c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(5-25)
Being a confirmed loner meant that Townshend Lincoln did not pry into the business of other people at Evergreen Estates. Even though he often felt decidedly uncomfortable when neighbors openly displayed symbols that were both troubling and misleading. He was used to being alone and did not fear long periods of complete isolation. These extended moments of solitude helped him to work quietly in his makeshift office. A back room filled with boxes and books, and thrift-store furnishings.
Others in the community of mobile homes were not so disciplined and respectful of their neighbors, however. So, as gossip traveled around the park about Lizzie Lavender and her anonymous existence, intrusions via the internet began to occur. Much interest had been aroused about this unusual figure, who had taken over a trailer formerly occupied by her maternal grandmother. At first, the fact that she drove a Tesla automobile was puzzling. People in the junkyard oasis did not look favorably upon electric vehicles. But after the rise of Elon Musk as a presidential adviser, suddenly, that paradigm was exploded. The 47th American chief executive was adored locally as a sort of king or benevolent dictator. Someone with the literal status of a superhero. Therefore, opinions about the immigrant softened somewhat, as others in the development started to purchase their own models bearing that brand. Having a Tesla became a badge of honor, instead of a target for scorn.
In defiance of this shift, Darby Stronelli, the nosey and inquisitive resident at Lot 15, refused to change willingly. Instead, she redoubled her efforts to seek out clues about who now lived on the other side of her longbox dwelling.
Lincoln felt his stomach begin to ache as a call notification popped up on his cell phone.
“HEY BUDDY! ARE YOU ON YOUR PORCH YET? I KNOW YOU MUST BE DRINKING! AND I DO! THAT’S ALL YOU EVER DO IS DRINK! PICK UP THE PHONE, SHITHEAD!!”
The reclusive hermit reeked of bourbon and beer from the previous couple of days. His unruly beard felt crisp with dried residue still present.
“I’d be grateful for a few hours of privacy, if you could show me that kind of grace...”
His frenemy across the yard snorted and snickered. She had buzzed off her spiky hair into a crew cut, before the arrival of summer.
“HAHAHAH! OKAY LINK, I GET YOUR JOKE! AND I DO! YOU ALWAYS GOTTA BE A SMARTASS! I BEEN TRYING TO FIND OUT ABOUT THAT LADY ON YOUR OTHER SIDE. SHE’S TALL AS FUCK AND HAS BIG HANDS! DIDN’T YOU EVER NOTICE? AND A DEEP-ASS VOICE!”
Lincoln sighed and clutched his swollen belly.
“Nah, I never had a conversation with her. Maybe a word over the railing of my ramp, but I was inebriated at the time...”
Darby sneered and shrieked at her cellular device.
“OF COURSE YOU WERE DRUNK, OLD FART! BUT STILL, YOU SHOULDA FIGURED SOMETHING WASN’T RIGHT!”
Her contact up the street shrugged and took a swallow of bourbon.
“I don’t make it a point to pry into people’s lives...”
His neighbor squawked and shouted with disbelief.
“YOU DON’T CARE? YOU DON’T FREAKING CARE? C’MON BUDDY, THERE’S SOMETHING GOING ON HERE. I FOUND A POST ON FACEBOOK FROM SOME KID IN CLEVELAND, HE’S LOOKING FOR HER I GUESS. SHE MUST KEEP THIS PARK A SECRET, AT WORK. ANYWAY, I HOOKED HIM UP, I SENT HIM A HIT ON MESSENGER!”
Lincoln turned bright red.
“You did what? Shouldn’t that have been her choice, to provide details, or not?”
Darby bared her yellow teeth.
“HAHAHAHAH! LINK, YOU’RE AN IDIOT! I GUESS THE DUDE IS ON HIS WAY HERE RIGHT NOW, I TOLD HIM YOU LIVE NEXT DOOR SO MAYBE THERE’S SOMETHING HE CAN FIGURE OUT FROM WHAT YOU SEEN AND HEARD!”
The contrarian outcast was livid. He nearly spilled his container of brown liquor.
“You did what? I’m not a narc, dammit! I don’t know much, anyway...”
His fellow citizen hopped up and down on her billiards table. She was in an outside barn used for gaming and watching sports events.
“SHITHEAD! YOU NEVER WANNA GO WITH THE FLOW AROUND HERE! WHAT THE FUCK, BRUH? WHY CAN’T YOU FIT IN FOR A CHANGE?”
Lincoln belched beer foam and slumped over his arthritic knees.
“Darb, I hate this place. Is that a surprise? I never wanted to come here, and by God, I haven’t wanted to stay here. But it’s a cheap place to live, especially for an old, disabled fellow...”
There was a pause and a giggle.
“YOU COULD GET A CYBERTRUCK, LIKE THE REST OF US! AND YOU COULD! LINN SPECK GOT ONE AND HIS CREDIT IS SHOT! THAT BASTARD IS ONE POOR SON-OF-A-BITCH! QUIT CRYING LIKE YOU GOT NO MONEY!”
The shaggy exile shook his head and winced from intestinal cramps.
“You have a better situation than anyone here, and still hustle friends for free brew. Think about that, doesn’t it make you embarrassed?”
Darby slammed her phone against the wall.
“DUMB MOTHERFUCKER! TAKE THAT BACK! TAKE THAT BACK!”
The iconoclast cradled his device in one hand, and coughed forcefully.
“Sorry, sister. Did I strike a nerve there?”
A flurry of insults and curses echoed from the high-tech wafer of plastic.
“ASSHOLE! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A CRANKY OLD ASSHOLE!”
Townshend Lincoln smiled with a slight measure of satisfaction.
“Yes, I am...”
Their contentious call ended abruptly, bringing a welcome moment of silence. Then, a crackle of rubber tires over gravel sounded from the driveway. Someone in a Toyota Prius had arrived surreptitiously. The vehicle barely made any noise when turning around. A tattooed individual with piercings and Day-Glo hair sat behind the wheel.
Beauregard Bloch had embarked on a personal mission, when his former friend had been expelled from the Queer Conundrum offices. He wanted to seek out the home base of his fellow journalist, and perhaps, cajole her into returning to their progressive enclave by Lake Erie. Without the Tesla Swasticar, of course. But the atmosphere at Evergreen Estates made his skin crawl. Confederate banners and Gadsden flags were everywhere. A pine tree standard flew over the property entrance, with its historic plea of ‘An Appeal To Heaven.’ There were pallet-board shacks and overgrown weeds, and dog fences along the street.
With his voice whispering weakly, he gestured through the open window.
“I’m looking for my pal Lizzie. Are you Mr. Lincoln, sir?”
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