c. 2024 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(6-24)
Linn Speck had planned an intervention, for the moment when Darcy Trelane and her father arrived to take possession of the mobile home at Lot 109. Yet as he arrived on a blistering, Monday morning, his concentration was immediately broken. A festive group of protest kids from Cleveland had already surrounded the singlewide trailer, in a human chain. They were attired in rainbow colors and tie-dye garments of all sorts.
In a demonstration of performance art, a makeshift prison cage had been set up in the front yard. There, one of the group was dressed in an orange jumpsuit and a short, scruffy, blonde wig. He scowled at those passing by the spot, with mock indignation and scorn. A thick coat of bronzer made his face look like a citrus peel. As part of the act, he was pelted with Taco Bell wrappers, and empty water bottles. Then, he grabbed the bars of his cell and began to howl.
“Let me out of here! I’ve got to make America great again!”
Members of the student troupe jeered and laughed and answered his plea with a ribald chant.
“CONVICTED FELON, NOW YOU SEE! PUT HIM IN JAIL FOR ETERNITY!”
Those who had come to stage a MAGA uprising were horrified by this spectacle. The rebel band had prepared themselves for some kind of incident, by carrying police gear and riot shields. Yet no one thought far enough ahead to be ready for a video event.
Cameras from Fox 8 News were on-site, and rolling. A live feed for Facebook was being beamed out of the park via a satellite link.
Linn chewed his bottom lip, and cursed. He had the rosy complexion of a butchered swine, waiting to be sold for a roast.
“WHAT IS THIS? THAT WOMAN WE HAVE FOR A MANAGER LET ALL THESE FREAKS INTO THE PARK? WHY WOULD SHE DO SOMETHING SO FOOLISH? WHY, DAMMIT? WHY?”
Confederate banners and Gadsden flags were flying from pickup trucks that circled the rural property. But the mob of local residents had been stymied by this creative burst of guerilla theater. Their battle plan had been one founded on force and superior strength. They had no answer for non-violent, intellectual combat.
Mama Molene Gant, a longtime LGBT activist and patron of progressive outcasts, stood in the home doorway. Her gray locks blew gently in the breeze, as she twirled in place. This made her long, broomstick skirt flutter and sparkle.
“Hmm! Sho’ got a problem now don’t ya? I figure yer looking fo’ trouble here, but there’s no messing with success. Ya done won yer battle and lost tha war, bruh! My girl from tha ‘hood by Lake Erie changed her mind. She ain’t moving back to this graveyard. I convinced her to stay put in Cuyahoga County. We love her and need her! But we done picked up the tab fo’ this boxy little shack here. It’s gonna be our playhouse, we’ll be staging shows every weekend!”
Linn felt urine soaking his boxer shorts.
“THE HELL YOU WILL! I’LL PUT A STOP TO THIS HORSE HOCKEY, RIGHT NOW! GOD’S ARMY IS READY TO ROLL! LOOK OUT, HERE WE COME!”
He gestured like a military general, sweeping his right hand across the horizon. On cue, residents who were standing by with diesel rigs and four-wheelers began to plow into the yard. Their aggressive treads tore at the grass and dirt. Deep ruts were left in the earth. Then, chunks of cinder blocks and concrete smashed the front windows.
Mama Gee and her college urchins were unarmed, except for a few nunchucks and padlocks draped from lengths of bicycle chain. They were scrawny and skinny, and untrained. The vigilante, trailer horde was an enemy they could not overwhelm, in numbers or with physical prowess.
Haki Speck bellowed through a megaphone, in support of her husband. She boasted a recycled, olive-drab uniform from an Army-Navy store, in Ashtabula. And an attitude that matched this look.
“LISTEN TO MY HUBBY! YOU’VE GOT ONE CHANCE TO ESCAPE WITH YOUR LIVES! AFTER THAT, ALL HELL IS GOING TO BREAK LOOSE! I CAN’T CONTROL OUR NEIGHBORS AND FRIENDS! THESE ARE PEOPLE WHO REALLY CARE ABOUT THIS NEIGHBORHOOD! HOW MUCH DO YOU CARE? ENOUGH TO STICK AROUND TO SEE BLOODSHED AND TEARS? GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN!”
The faux Trump flipped his makeshift cell, and started to run for cover. Kids piled into various Toyota and Honda sedans that had crowded into the driveway. A clattering of tiny motors filled the air. Undersized wheels spun and slipped. Then, their benefactor bowed her head in sorrow.
“Ya won this round, fo’ sho! We gonna step aside, and let ya run tha table. But just remember, fat boy, what comes around goes around. Yeah, it’s true as true can be. Ya just bit tha hand of destiny, and she ain’t pleased with yer shit! Gonna be a day of reckoning, I believe! I believe it with all my heart!”
The exodus of street performers, painters, and puppeteers happened quickly. Before anyone could react in force, the interlopers from Cleveland had escaped.
Linn massaged his flabby jowls, and hooted with victory.
“Look at them run, everybody! They’re cowards of the worst kind! A fair fight is something they didn’t want! How about that? I can’t say that it comes as a surprise!”
Haki bubbled over with porcine enthusiasm.
“He’s right, everybody! We sent them scurrying right back to the lakeshore! Good riddance to bad garbage! Good riddance to them all!”
As the exhaust fumes cleared, and tempers abated, Dana Alvarez appeared in a golf cart owned by the park. Her authority as manager of the isolated property was unquestioned. But now, what she had to say sent a chill through the lingering crowd.
“Well, you tonterìas really had a party today, right? Now you can sit on your duffs and drink your cat-piss beer. Good deal! You better give some thought to what comes next though, the paperwork for this trailer was already signed and sealed. That hippie chica from the city covered a deposit on lot rent that was due before anybody moved in to stay. So, guess what? Miss Poindexter still owns this longbox. Ay, caramba! Now she can take you all to court. That judge has had an earful from the Po-Po already. You want trouble? You got it in spades!”
Suddenly, Linn felt that his Army trousers were sopping wet. He had pissed himself, in plain view of everyone.
“I DON’T GET IT! WHEN WE DO GOOD, IT TURNS OUT BAD! WHEN WE’RE RIGHT, WE STILL COME OUT WRONG! I DON’T GET IT! I JUST DON’T GET IT AT ALL!”
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