c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(4-25)
Only a week after the Tesla brochures had been distributed at Evergreen Estates, a literal stampede of freakish, futuristic Cybertrucks appeared. They were on every street in the rural development. Most had the same silver, metallic hue of Linn Speck’s seminal acquisition. But some showed signs of a homemade customization in progress. They were colored in olive drab, and adorned with military markings. These alternate rigs teetered along on jacked-up suspension components, oversized tires, and reinforced underbellies seemingly ready for combat duty. Gun racks were visible. And front plates carrying a bold insignia that blazed with purpose. An X design from the renamed Twitter platform, now run by Elon Musk, himself.
Aimes Hefti, the self-appointed brigade commander of this new herd, took a lead position as vehicles circled the trailer park. He had shaved his head bald, and carried tattoos that were cryptic and strange. References to groups never seen in that part of Ohio, before. Upon reaching the lot where Townshend Lincoln drunkenly slouched on his outside bench, he shouted through a megaphone which was mounted on the roof of his steel mule.
“LINK, IT’S TIME TA SADDLE UP, DUDE! I’M TELLING Y’ALL, VMS FINANCING CAN PUT YER ASS IN THE SEAT OF A NEW, ALL-ELECTRIC RIDE! GET ON THE FREEDOM TRAIN, OLD FART! EVERYBODY’S DOING IT! DON’T GET LEFT BEHIND!”
The familiar notes of ‘Dixie’ warbled from his sound system. Then, a shower of empty, Bud Light bottles hit the pavement. He disappeared in a dusty cloud of loose stones and dirt.
Lincoln had not yet opened his bourbon jug, with the morning still raw and uncertain. But this verbal assault made him grab the container, and twist its cork stopper. He chugged the fiery liquid eagerly, until his face turned numb. Then, offered a brief petition to the sky.
“Lord help me, I can’t stay sober for five minutes in this neighborhood! Give me strength, please. Give me strength...”
A thunderous din echoed from the field next to their maintenance garage, where public events were sometimes held on the property. The squeaky squawk of Dana Alvarez, their feisty, manager-in-charge could be heard above this cacophony. She was quickly surrounded by residents who had come to show off their automotive purchases. But their impromptu gathering had not been authorized, beforehand.
The community queen was dark-haired, curvy, and decidedly attractive. Yet in the midst of this mob, she was clearly overwhelmed. Her voice cracked from strain. She lit a smoke and then pointed accusingly at the group.
“Hey, imbécils! You gotta get a permit from the owners to use this space. Dios mío! You know the drill! Don’t tear up the grass, we just had it seeded!”
Linn had taken a spot near the office door, after exiting his own transport. His jowls sagged slightly while he adjusted a pair of canvas suspenders, worn over a white T-shirt. A crisscross of strapping that barely kept his loose trousers from falling.
“We the people run this park, Ms. A! The resident association, that is! We’ll do what we want, when we want, and where we want!”
Aimes chortled at this attempt to display a bit of bravado.
“That’s the deal, buddy! Tell this bitch ta stand aside! We’re gonna have a meeting, and a race, gawdammit!”
Dana breathed heavily before flicking the butt of her cigarette into an empty coffee can.
“That’s how you talk to a woman? No wonder you live by yourself. Culo estúpido! Get the heck outta here!”
Instead of staging a confrontation, the militant commando raised his fist in the air, and gestured to indicate a circling of the hi-tech wagons. Without another word, the rowdy bunch started their motors and commenced to shred the front lawn, merrily. Mud and greenery were thrown from one end of their vacant field, to the other. The spark of batteries being drained buzzed their ears. Hoots and hollering added to this unbridled display of defiance.
On his outside porch, Lincoln dozed with the noon hour approaching. He had started his daily ritual too early. Beer foam dripped from his beard. A stench of Wild Turkey, 101 proof, filled his nostrils. He could hear that a disruption of some sort was taking place, nearby. But had already begun to tip toward the oblivion of an all-day bender.
Then, inexplicably, a slap of shoe soles bounced up his access ramp.
Linn had gained an unexpected jolt of courage from playing with his Cybertruck kin. So, he stood sweating at the crest of his neighbor’s entryway, appearing unprepared and oddly confident.
“Look, I know we’re not the best of friends, Link. But I really think you should review the terms of a VMS purchase. Their rent-to-own deals are incredible! Your old Ford SUV is a sad piece of poop. How much longer will it run? A month? Maybe a year? I know you don’t really go anywhere, but it wouldn’t hurt to buy something just in case. And it’d help, umm... send a message to all the protest kids who are trying to burn down those Tesla dealerships!”
The reclusive hermit was stunned to see his sworn enemy at so close at hand. He had to set his bottle aside before speaking.
“You’re really standing there, dumbfuck? Really? I could bash your teeth with one of my canes, right now, if I wanted. You’d be gumming your hamburgers and hot dogs for the rest of this summer! Don’t that make you feel just a little bit shy? What the hell, man? Get out of here while you can leave with your dignity!”
Linn cupped his flabby jaw in one hand, and pondered this offering of sober advice.
“You growl a lot, Link, but nobody is really afraid...”
There was a sharp swoosh of air, as a brass-collared walking stick swung forcefully from the inset cubicle where Lincoln was sitting. Suddenly, the fearless intruder turned pale. His mouth stung from a violent impact of wood. He began to dance like a schoolboy who needed a bathroom break.
“YOUUUUU MONSTER! I NEVER THOUGHT YOUUUU’D BUST ME RIGHT IN THE CHOPS! C’MON NOW, CALM DOWN LINK! CALM DOWWWWN ALREADY! CALM DOWNNNN!”
The contrarian loner had his other fist clenched with rage. He held the disability implement over his head.
“This is my drinking time, fatass! Are you gonna let me get back to business, or should I swing again? You make the call! Do it and don’t be slow!”
His adversary went running without taking the time to answer. His surrender provided an endpoint to their encounter that satisfied both men, completely.
Owning a Tesla truck was not on his bucket list.
No comments:
Post a Comment