c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(5-25)
Linn Speck had lived at Evergreen Estates for long enough that he knew most of the other inhabitants, at least on his side of the trailer enclave. He was popular among those who went to services up the hill, at Thompson’s Church of the Lord Jesus in Heaven. But despite being a veteran of the National Guard, and someone known for having summer parties at his lot, acceptance of the residential association he founded remained spotty. This dichotomy kept him feeling puzzled. He wanted to bolster his position as a leader in the community of mobile homes. Yet that goal always seemed elusive. Particularly whenever he was confronted by the combative, drunken hermit who lived further up his street.
Townshend Carr Lincoln presented a roadblock to his ascension that could not be removed.
With the mimicking of DOGE minimalism in full effect at their development, the balding, conservative organizer was a willing cheerleader for any effort to streamline the day-to-day operation of their property. But he also fretted over growing pains that affected everyone. There were necessary difficulties with reshaping how the park was managed. Yet for the moment, they were isolated from the very owners that controlled so much of their lives. He was hesitant to criticize anything about this metamorphosis, because of his fealty to the current president. He wanted to project an air of totality in supporting everything being done to erase the legacy of woke ideology, and its supporters. Still, accepting temporary hardships for the hope of an eventual gain was not easy.
Having these dual targets kept him aiming in different directions at the same time. To achieve efficiency while also being better served as a resident. Something that put him off balance. He did not appreciate feeling abandoned, but wanted to stay firmly on the side of his hero in the White House.
At Lot 13, there was no such disparity of goals in effect, however.
Lincoln had a basic routine for survival which kept him on track and able to cope. He stayed drunk and distant. Anyone or anything that entered his bubble was likely to feel the wrath of a cane swing, or a flying whiskey bottle. He did not embrace social habits, or welcome visitors. The parade of poor souls past his gravel driveway did offer a sort of entertainment, however. He would sit outside, sipping bourbon, and watch as if attending a theatrical premiere. The sight of unemployed neighbors treading on foot, stray animals wandering freely, broken vehicles shedding parts as they passed, or contract workers cutting weeds and filling crevices in the tarmac with loose stones, kept him grinning. There was a marked futility to life in the rural development. Yet in defiance of this predicament, each day brought a new attempt to endure and thrive.
Linn had scheduled a gathering of participants in his own space, to discuss the ongoing battle with bad conditions on their streets. Something that had worsened noticeably after the efficiency drive began. But it did not take long for the portly, red-faced fellow to realize that his initiative was an idea doomed to fail.
Darby Stronelli, his most active defender at the park, yowled in between swallows of Bud Light, while sitting on a pilfered crate from Dean’s Dairy. She did not make any attempt to sound diplomatic in her demand for change.
“THE POTHOLES ARE FUCKING HUGE, BUDDY! AND THEY ARE! I SAW A JEEP LOSE ITS MUFFLER LAST WEEK! AND SOMEBODY FELL OFF THEIR HARLEY! HOW LONG ARE WE GONNA PUT UP WITH THIS SHIT? WE OUGHTTA DO SOMETHING! LIKE MAYBE ANOTHER EX-CROW! GO WITH THE CROW! GO WITH THE CROW!”
Her distant cousin by proxy nodded, mimicking a bobblehead figurine. With his flabby jowls quivering.
“You mean, umm... escrow? I have to agree, it’s time for rent money to go into those accounts! Screw these California people! They’ve got to learn a lesson!”
Rottie, who once faced an eviction from his own longbox hovel, laughed and sneered, while smoking a twisted-up doobie. He had returned to participate, while being stealthy as a visitor.
“Good luck with that, they don’t give a shit about us in court! I got completely jobbed by the judge! He thought I was nothing but trash!”
Linn shook violently, with disagreement.
“That’s not true, friend! I heard an order was just issued, to make the company cough up details about their scheme. We’re really close to winning a victory here! They’ll have to fix things, it’s just a matter of time!”
Haki, his chubby spouse, was dressed in a pink sweatsuit. She cheered her husband’s determination.
“That’s it! They will have to make everything right! Right, right, right!”
Lincoln could hear the loud conversation echoing from yard to yard. He dribbled liquor down his Gildan T-shirt, while grumbling to himself. His hillbilly brogue was in full effect.
“Hah! Good luck with that shit, dude! You’ll have to wait fer months or years. They love to fight over turf, one judge overrules another! It’s like a shell game!”
Becoming bored with the meeting, Darby scratched her spiky head of hair, and coughed nervously. She wanted to go home for more light beer.
“DON’T THEY GOTTA OBEY WHATEVER THE COURT SAYS? HOW LONG WILL IT TAKE? C’MON NOW! THIS SHIT IS REALLY GETTING OLD!”
Linn patted his overfed belly, which protruded with a naked strip of skin showing.
“Well, I don’t know really. I was told there is one lawyer here in Ohio for the asset managers. We aren’t completely certain who represents the owners now, or even who they are...”
Rottie flicked the butt of his joint on the ground.
“Not sure? I thought you were doing all the leg work, man! What the eff? Are you slacking?”
Their association leader mopped his face with an old towel.
“I’m busy, okay? Collecting beverage cans for charity, getting signatures, contacting our local representatives, it’s a big job being in charge! I doubt any of you could handle so much responsibility!”
Haki agreed, enthusiastically.
“That’s right honey! Preach it! Preach it!”
Safely removed from the citizen interaction, Lincoln slouched on his wooden bench. He felt glad to be out of the communications loop.
“None of ya know a damn thing, and don’t really want to know! That’s how it works here in this dump. We take it high and hard, like a rookie playing baseball. But the damn game keeps going on! On and on and on!”
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