c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(5-25)
As the month of May drew to a close at Evergreen Estates, a pattern of cool weather had everyone in a funk. Despite being eager for the arrival of summer, and outdoor activities, residents of the trailer village were confronted with lower-than-normal temperatures, and rainy days. Combined with arbitrary cuts in services and a massive increase in lot rent, this potpourri of woes had the level of angst pegging an imaginary meter.
Catty, verbal altercations could be heard up and down every street. No one was in a good mood.
For Townshend Lincoln, this spike in discontent was undetectable. He stayed drunk and aloof as a matter of course. So, the cresting waves of anger did not reach his longbox hovel. He never visited anyone in the neighborhood, or attempted to socialize with those who sought his friendship. Disability only increased the sharpness of this habitual routine. He took pleasure in days when there was zero interaction with anyone. Though in an odd gesture toward comity, he would wave in response, when well-meaning citizens passed his ramshackle abode, and offered some form of greeting. Perhaps it was a leftover vibe from earlier days, when he had felt more like a genuine, human entity. Somewhere deep in his psychology was that kernel of awareness, lingering in defiance of what he and his life had become.
For most inhabitants of the rural park, it was obvious that staying distant from this outlier with shaggy hair and dirty clothes made good sense. Thus, they acted accordingly.
Yet Darby Stronelli and Linn Speck were two residents that operated outside of this logical bubble. The former was hyperactive, outgoing, and constantly on the prowl for scrap wood, flea-market tools, or discarded furnishings. The latter had styled himself as a savior appointed to lead those who lacked moral clarity, and sought guidance. His residential association provided an organized stewardship of the property. Both individuals were important components in the daily life of their community. Unlike the impaired, uncooperative bum with Kentucky spirits as his main source of refreshment.
Predictably, Lincoln had no interest in entertaining either person at his Lot 13 venue.
With the pace of outdoor work lagging, and hours of bright sunshine nearly non-existent, Darby took it upon herself to be an agent for peacemaking. She knew that her religious, cousin-at-the-corner had a longstanding beef with the reclusive alcoholic next door. So, on a mid-week afternoon, the spiky-haired, former urbanite marched across a vacant space that separated her own dwelling from the one of her neighbor, and mounted the long access ramp.
Her gritty voice echoed along with shoe leather slapping the wooden planks.
“HEY BUDDY! I GOT SOMETHING TO SAY! AND I DO! YOU NEED TO GET ALONG BETTER IN THIS PLACE, FOR A CHANGE. QUIT ACTING LIKE YOU GOT A STICK UP YOUR ASS! SIT DOWN AND HAVE A DRINK WITH LINN AND HIS WIFE, SOMETIME!”
The boozing loner was stunned by her appearance. At first, he wondered if it could be an illusion sired by the bourbon in his bottle. His hillbilly twang resounded forcefully.
“You ain’t welcome here. Turn yer tail around, and get lost! Alright?”
Darby grimaced and clenched her teeth.
“LOOK, I’M JUST TRYING TO SAY THAT YOU NEED TO PARTY WITH THE REST OF US, INSTEAD OF SITTING HERE BY YOURSELF! OKAY? IT’S KINDA WEIRD!”
Her fellow member of the junkyard oasis did not acquiesce to this petition, willingly.
“No, not okay! Yer not welcome here, did I say that loud enough? Get out with your dignity. Get off of my lot! I’m not inclined to argue the point!”
For most other residents, that caveat would have been enough. A warning to heed before the atmosphere became supercharged with acrimony and anger. But instead, the unwelcome visitor took two steps forward, and began to howl like a frenzied, feral cat.
“I’M TRYING TO TALK TO YOU, LINK! AND I AM! LISTEN TO ME FOR A DAMN MINUTE! JUST LISTEN, WILL YOU? GET SOME SENSE INTO THAT THICK HEAD!”
The contrarian iconoclast had used up his minimal reserve of civility. He pointed one of his mismatched canes with the immediacy of a spear.
“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! YOU AIN’T WELCOME, GAWDAMM IT! GET THE FUCK OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT! GETTTTT OUUUUUUT!”
Lincoln had a booming voice which carried well when speaking. Therefore, the entire street was soon aware that some sort of disagreement had erupted between him and the woman on his eastern flank. Front doors and windows opened impulsively. Cars stopped moving. Random individuals and young children who were outside, began to seek cover.
Darby was visibly shaken. She had become accustomed to being emotionally accommodated by nearly everyone in the park. Even those who were not fond of her grating demeanor and hustling skills, normally surrendered to maintain a level of decorum.
She took another forward step, coming even closer to a moment of Armageddon.
“I’M TRYING TO TALK SENSE, YOU OLD ASSHOLE! WILL YOU LISTEN FOR FIVE SECONDS? LISTEN TO ME DAMMIT! YOU’RE HARD-HEADED AS FUCK!”
The swooning hermit had already lost his composure, completely. A fact that was apparent to every observer, at trailer homes along their crumbling boulevard. Heads were bowed with regret, and a desire to turn deaf and blind. No one wanted to witness this spectacle, or ponder what it meant, in broader terms.
He stood up reflexively after a pause, and gestured with his walking implement.
“GET THE FUCK OUT! DO YA HEAR ME? GET THE FUCK OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT!”
At last, the uninvited guest turned on her heel. She was almost in tears. Yet too offended for a public breakdown. Her shouts and oaths echoed long into the distance.
“CRUSTY OLD ASSHOLE! DUMB MOTHERFUCKER! YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE! ASSHOLE!”
Once the pair of combatants had separated, an uneasy calm settled over the landscape. Suddenly it was oddly quiet.
Teetering on the edge of a high-proof stupor, Townshend Lincoln realized that he had just drawn attention to himself in an extremely unflattering way. A sin that he would never have wished to commit, for any reason. His anonymity among the pines was everything. Living in silent shadows made him safe, and secure. Only the intrusion of others brought a possibility of chaos and harm. He cherished being unseen, unheard, and unknown.
His mouth fell open while pondering this reckless twist of fate.
“Danggg... what did I just do?”
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