c. 2024 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(4-24)
Townshend Carr Lincoln was known for two things around his neighborhood at Evergreen Estates, a community of manufactured homes in rural Ohio. Being perpetually drunk, and lacking any sort of social grace when interacting with other residents of the park. Therefore, he normally kept a safe distance from anyone else, while pursuing his daily routine. After rising early, and consuming a pot of black coffee with dry toast, he would typically adjourn to the comfort of an outside bench on his front porch. There, with the gusto of someone who had reached his 60’s in a disabled and shaggy condition, he would begin to swig rations of bourbon and beer. One after the other, in a repetitive cycle that quickly numbed him enough to tolerate the angst of having inhabited his narrow lot for over two decades.
This was his existence. A sort of life few would envy and no one would behold with reverence.
But up their street past other boxcar dwellings, and a cul-de-sac that veered off to the right, someone was watching. A woman of middle age, with a remarkable personality, and fully-developed, feminine curves.
Chessie Mae Preen had lived on the distant property for about two years. Her husband was a doting figure, a good provider and loyal in a strict sense of taking household responsibilities seriously. Yet despite being fit for his age, and athletic enough to participate in pickup games with young kids who played basketball next door, he had little interest in any romance with his spouse. Somehow, the fire had gone out between them, long ago. His drive to project manliness seemed to have evaporated into oblivion. Though gifted by nature, he had no interest in putting these physical blessings to work. This meant that his busty, long-legged spouse spent most days sipping vodka mixed with Kool-Aid. And pondering the weight of her boredom.
She would sometimes walk around the neighborhood, with their faithful puppy on a leash. The mutt was cheerful and friendly to everyone. A Poodle mix with an energetic disposition. But when passing by Lot 13, where Lincoln spent his days drowning in liquor, a sense of canine confusion took hold.
The puffy pooch would cock his head to one side and stare, as if some odd creature had emerged from the brush. This behavior reflected how everyone else viewed the old hermit, as someone who inspired a sense of wonder and perhaps, disbelief.
Chessie felt something else while her dog would linger, however. A reckless desire to experience the danger of an interlude with this mysterious figure. A phantom of sorts, with a gray beard and deep eyes.
Late on a Monday morning, after her hubby had exited on a journey for auto parts, in their county capital, she dressed in a tight blouse hued in screaming pink. And cutoff, denim shorts trimmed with strips of western fringe. Her stride was naturally lengthy and bold. Yet for dramatic effect, she performed a high-kick with each step. At the end of her target’s driveway, she did a pirouette while taking care not to stumble over her fuzzy companion. Then, called out with a greeting that resonated like the chirping of a songbird celebrating a glow of sunrise.
“Howdy, neighbor! Y’all are out here every day, I see! Rain or shine! That makes me smile, I got to confess. I’m glad to see yer doing good!”
The quiet hobo was still fairly sober. So, shyness kept a bridle on his tongue. He lifted his hand in a gesture of comity.
“Good morning, miss...”
The eager woman tied her pet at the end of a railing that ran out to the street. Then, she turned toward a long access ramp that bordered the weathered trailer.
“Maybe I can join ya for a spell? It’s a long hike to go all the way ‘round our property. My gams are aching! I’ve made the circle twice already!”
Lincoln could not help noticing the gentle sag of her generous bosom. Her mounds stretched the brilliant fabric she wore to its limit of elasticity.
“Umm, sure, I suppose. There’s a guest chair by my trash bin. That’s what I call it anyway. People use it when they pay a visit, which ain’t very often...”
She sat down with a plop and a jiggle. Then, began to confess her loneliness and hunger for adventure.
“I been here for a short time, me ‘n the big man moved up from eastern Kentucky. He had a job prospect in Cleveland. We were looking around for something affordable, ya know? But shit, it’s gotten damn expensive to live anywhere near the city. This dump was our last hope. The park manager said she’d hook us up with a nice spot for a couple, but what we bought was a hole-in-the-wall. With a leaky roof and a cracked-up slab underneath. It gets chilly in the winter! There are gaps around the windows! That bitch sold us a crock of shit!”
Her host nodded and shrugged, sympathetically.
“Yeah, that describes most of these longbox shanties. Mine ain’t much better...”
Chessie adjusted her top while speaking. Both nipples had turned inexplicably hard.
“My ol’ boy is good with his hands. Larden Preen can fix anything, or build anything! So, he got our place in shape before too long. But I don’t know what happened. Between his job and living in this damn burn pit, life just dragged him down. Y’all understand? I used to get kissed and squeezed, every morning. Now I could dress up like Dolly Parton, and he wouldn’t notice. It’s a gawdamm shame!”
Lincoln had started to feel uncomfortable. Sweat dotted his forehead.
“I’ve been running solo for 15 years. My wife bailed out when money got tight. So maybe you should’ve gone somewhere else for the Dr. Phil treatment. I don’t know much about wedded bliss...”
They locked eyes for a brief instant. Then, there was a yowling from the street.
Chessie howled in protest. Her long nails tapped the porch railing as she stood up and scowled.
“Just a minute, Percy! I’ve hardly been here long enough to say hello!”
Poodle yips and yaps echoed across the yard. Then, the tipsy iconoclast held out his bourbon bottle. This reflexive move came without a proper amount of forethought.
“One for the road, ma’am? Maybe that’ll calm your mood a bit...”
She swiped the container from his hand and chugged its contents until her throat burned.
“Hell yeah, cowboy! Y’all are a good dude! Thank ya so much!”
Her boots did a click-clack dance on the floorboards, as she stood up to leave. But then, a twirl threw her off balance. She fell into Lincoln’s lap, and began to stroke his wiry facial hair. This made him flinch with shock and surprise.
“Hey now, you’ve got to be careful with that joy juice. I’m a professional drinker, so maybe you need a warning. ‘Don’t try this at home,’ like they say on TV...”
Chessie reached between his beefy legs, and let her fingers wander. This made her newfound friend sit up, uncomfortably straight. Her eyes met his, once again.
“Every morning I see y’all are out here. Every damn morning! And today, I don’t know what got into me. I just figured maybe it was time to break the ice. What else might get into me, I wonder. What else, do ya think?”
Lincoln was out of breath, and thirsty. He wanted to get drunk, and be alone.
“I don’t do much thinking, miss. It makes my head hurt. Have yourself a good rest of the day...”
Her four-legged bodyguard growled and pulled at his leash. He knew instinctively that something salacious was about to transpire. It made him stand at attention, and hop on his paws with naked aggression.
“Yip yip, yap yap! Yip yap yip!”
Chessie pressed her lips against the loner’s mouth, adding a dart of tongue as an exclamation point. Then, she clattered down the wooden ramp on her high-heeled Dingos. Frustration made her want to kick the scruffy dog like a football.
“I’ll be out walking around here, tomorrow. Hope to see y’all again real soon! Yippee-Ki-Yay, Mofo!”
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