c. 2024 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(6-24)
Dana Alvarez finished filing paperwork for the sale of their trailer at Lot 109, just before noon. She lit a cigarette, and reclined in her roller chair. The vintage, Schult singlewide was in reasonably good condition, yet needed a few repairs that a handyman could accomplish easily. Her employer, the park ownership, had instructed that it be put on the market at a bargain price, with one stipulation – that the residence be fixed up within six months, with no payments missed in that time to rent the space. Darcy Trelane and her father seemed like ideal buyers. Because they had already lived on the rural property, and were familiar with the ins-and-outs of living at such an isolated oasis.
Evergreen Estates was not a place for the faint of heart to enter, innocently.
But as she savored her tobacco and menthol, suddenly, there was a clattering on the concrete patio by her office door. Fists began to pound the outside walls for attention. Her ashtray rattled on the desktop. Structural fatigue made the ceiling tiles overhead scatter dust on her workspace.
“OPEN UP, MS. A! WE’RE HERE TO LODGE A FORMAL PROTEST! THE PEOPLE OF THIS BUCKEYE NEIGHBORHOOD NEED TO BE HEARD! WE WON’T STAND BY AND LET YOU DESTROY OUR QUIET, CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY! OPEN UP AND LET US SAY OUR PIECE! OPEN UP, RIGHT NOW!”
The park manager cursed in Spanish. She stubbed out a half-burned smoke, and pulled her long, black hair back in a spandex tie.
“The door isn’t locked, come inside already! Dios mío, what has you so agitated?”
Linn Speck barged through the entryway with a group of angry residents following his lead. The rotund, blustering organizer was attired in a thin T-shirt, and cargo shorts. Because of the summer blast that Ohio was experiencing, he couldn’t bear to be dressed formally. His casual apparel was already sopping wet and soaked from the heat.
“YOU LET THAT DYKE AND HER STONER DAD BACK IN HERE? REALLY? WE’VE BEEN SINGING PRAISES TO JESUS THAT SHE FINALLY WENT HOME TO HER FREAK VILLAGE, IN CLEVELAND! NOW YOU’VE MESSED THAT UP AGAIN! ARE YOU JUST STUPID, OR DESPERATE TO GET THIS COMMUNITY FULLY OCCUPIED?”
Dana had never liked the loudmouth whiner, personally. Yet he was someone who dependably had his rent checks in her office, on the first of every month.
“Look, I couldn’t give a pile of mierda de caballo for what you think about my decision. Comprende? But I didn’t choose them. The owners said it was cool to sell that trailer to a fix-it guy. It has bad floors here and there, some drafty windows, and needs painted. You don’t like Miss Poindexter or her dad? Okay, I get it, all those piercings and tats, and whatever turn you off. It’s not my style either. Chica loca! But they had cash down on the sale. I know how they live, that’s good enough. You want to make trouble? Just remember the new lease, we put in a clause about harassment. Don’t start no mess, won’t be no mess. Right?”
Linn felt his overfed belly creeping out from under the plain, white tee. He stomped in place like a kid who was about to soak his underwear.
“I’VE GOT A PETITION SIGNED BY DOZENS OF PEOPLE! SHE AND HER LAZY PAPA NEED TO HAVE THE BILL OF SALE TORN UP AND THROWN IN THEIR FACES! SEND THEM RIGHT OUT TO PINE TRAIL ROAD, AND GIVE THANKS TO SEE THEIR ASSES GOING BACK UP SIDLEY’S HILL!”
The park supervisor frowned, and growled with her teeth bared.
“What did I just tell you, crazy graso? The owners decided, not me. Darcy signed the papers, and gave me a wad of dinero. It’s done! Sobre! Terminado! Your petition ain’t worth crap to me! This circus runs according to the executive board, not an elefante and his clown crew! Now get the hell out of my office!”
Her opponent slouched and grumbled, before turning on his heel. Defeat made him redden with anger and resentment. He had failed as a leader, and as a moral icon for their boxcar community.
“There’ll be more chapters to this story, I promise you, Ms. A! Pastor Forester from our church on the township square will be here every Sunday, to hold a gospel meeting. And I’ll be selling the Trump Bible and his gold shoes, after each service! God’s people won’t be quiet! You can’t silence the voice of his parishioners! You’ll see that miracles can still happen!”
Members of his MAGA horde loudly echoed their endorsement.
“MAKE THESE ESTATES GREAT AGAIN! MAKE THEM GREAT! MAKE THEM GREAT!”
Dana sighed and folded her hands. She wanted the agitator and his supporters to disappear.
“Dios santo! You want to be in charge here? I’d be glad to give up this job. It don’t pay enough, believe me. But you couldn’t handle this responsibility for five minutes. These crybabies would hurt your ears with their wailing. Complain, complain, complain! That’s all I hear, every day. You don’t have the bolas to handle it! Eres un eunuco! No balls at all!”
Linn rolled his eyes at her sprinkling of native dialect in their conversation.
“I’ll be back... you can count on it!”
The park manager snorted and laughed out loud.
“Yeah you will, Arnold Schwarzenegger, on the first of next month. With your rent check, big boy! Now cállate y vete a casa! Shut up and go home!”
The pudgy prude loafed back to his ramshackle trailer while nursing psychological wounds. He ended up in the driveway with a cooler of Milwaukee’s Best beer, and lawn chairs arranged in a circle. Yet other than Haki, his spouse of a dozen years, no one else had anything to say. His loss in the verbal battle had been a damning sin.
He squeezed a can of the golden brew until foam splashed in his face.
“I don’t care what that stupid woman says, this isn’t over yet! It’s not over! Tell me it’s not over!”
His loving bride nodded her head and sipped from a glass of vodka and raspberry Kool-Aid.
“It’s not over, honey! Keep fighting for what you know matters. I’ll be right here by your side!”
The few friends who were still present chanted in agreement. Their voices drifted up the street in a crescendo of faith. All the way to the inset porch of Townshend Carr Lincoln, his most hated enemy in the entire neighborhood.
“AMEN, MRS. SPECK! AMEN, AMEN, AMEN!”
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