c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(6-25)
The official service of Elon Musk, as head of Donald Trump’s DOGE project, ended with a whimper. Causing chaos at the federal level, and saving far less money than intended. With a trail of rubble left behind in the form of court battles and political skirmishes. Yet a point had been made, namely, that spending cuts could reshape the role of government with drastic force. The lesson reverberated across America, and ultimately, settled into the swampy soil of properties such as the Evergreen Estates mobile community, east of Cleveland, Ohio. In places where prefab trailers were parked on concrete slabs, rented to occupants for a monthly fee, this idea grew on its own, idiopathically. Much like weeds multiplying in the unoccupied fields. Soon, owners from coast to coast were eagerly reducing their own costs, by hacking away at traditional services and safety measures. For the residents who were involved, this meant living under minimalist conditions. For their company masters, it provided a dividend of increased revenue, and fewer logistical headaches.
But in Thompson Township, a rural district of Geauga County, life continued much as it ever had, before. Hardship and sacrifice were staples of the trailer lifestyle. So, those who inhabited this isolated development were not genuinely surprised by being neglected. Their social status was already one beneath every other level of modern civilization. They were almost literally invisible. Except for those moments when law enforcement, regulatory agencies, or banking institutions needed to become involved. For Townshend Carr Lincoln, a fallen member of a bloodline notable for its courage and eloquence, leading a united republic, the need to reduce wasteful spending was more immediate. And, more basic.
He simply had to find ways not to spend recklessly, when blitzed on his porch.
Ordering edible goodies from a local pizzeria had become too convenient in recent times. He discovered that a website had been set up, online, with an option to pay much like any retail purveyor. It mimicked the design used by Walmart, Target, or Amazon. Even when tipsy enough that hobbling to his desk with disability canes presented a challenge, he could access this portal easily. Despite generally being busted and in need of gastronomic discipline, this allowed temptation to overwhelm his sense of reason on a regular basis.
Every month, he watched fearfully as his credit card statement yielded larger amounts of debt to be paid. It caused him to feel nauseous, when attempting to balance his checkbook, having run out of money. But after rounds of brew and liquor on his porch outside, a rebellious mood always prevailed. One of hunger, and frivolity.
Drivers for the pizza emporium became very familiar with his address.
On a Sunday evening, he wrestled with himself while on his favored perch, a bench fashioned from scrap wood that had once been a useful construction in another park. He dozed slightly as was his habit, then caught a second burst of energy that made him feel revived. Hunger pangs stabbed at his belly. And finally, he stood up, staggered a bit, and then sat down again, abruptly.
Hidden, hillbilly roots were exposed by a basic need to fill his gut.
“Naw! Don’t do it, dammit! There is a heap of snacks inside! I don’t need to waste any more dinero this week! Quit jonesing fer grub! Quit it!”
He was strong enough for a moment. But then the tingle of peckishness returned. His appetite had not been sated by cheese curls, baby dills, shelled peanuts, or beef smokies. He wanted something more substantial, more carb-intensive. More intestinally sound and satisfying.
Again, he struggled to rise, then chided himself for bring weak.
“NO DAMMIT, NO! I’M ALREADY CARRYING A BIG-ASS BALANCE ON MY PLASTIC! SCREW THIS SHIT! I’VE GOT TO GET IT TOGETHER! NO MORE DRUNK SPENDING! NO MORE!”
As he swigged bourbon, a scraping of loose metal on the pavement became louder. From the top of his street, he saw a ratty, Chevrolet Suburban dragging its muffler. At the wheel was a young woman he had never seen before. Her dyed mane streamed out of the open window. Country music played loudly enough that she remained seemingly unaware of her vintage vehicle shedding parts, while dodging potholes. Her evasive twists of the steering wheel made the rig bounce and sway as if part of a video game. By the time she reached the front corner, there was little left of her exhaust system.
Lincoln stared straight ahead, with disbelief. Piles of rubbish had become more prevalent in recent days, from similar incidents along their broken boulevard. In earlier times, a maintenance crew might have sought to clear such junk items, fearing that it provided evidence of neglect. Yet now, efficiency had turned the development into a dry pool of indifference. No one cared about anything, or anyone. Only the monthly tribute paid to occupy a specific lot mattered. All else had been relegated to a listless realm of apathy, governed by a desire to slim costs and grow overall profitability. Valued goals for any capitalist institution.
The South African billionaire from Pretoria had made it all possible.
Suddenly, the shaggy boozer felt very detached from consciousness. Almost to the point of entering a dream state, through inebriation. He floated virtually, free of physical impairments for the moment. Around him, walls and windows passed with the lazy, loping cadence of woodland scenery during a trail hike. Then, he found himself at the computer screen, in his home office. What had been a large bedroom, in better days. When so obliterated by beverage alcohol, he could not attain the focus needed to work a cellular app, for making purchases. But the large display allowed him to sin freely, in financial terms.
He squinted through a pair of dollar-store, reading spectacles, to see the menu. From the extensive selection of Italian pies, a few stood out for his inspection.
“Veggie Pizza – Onions, mushrooms, green peppers, black olives, tomatoes, mild peppers, mozzarella and provolone cheeses, on either a red or garlic white sauce.
Meat Craver Pizza – Ham, sausage, pepperoni, bacon, with mozzarella and provolone cheese.
Pretzel Pizza – Homemade dough smothered with delicious jalapeno nacho cheese, topped with pepperoni, mozzarella and provolone cheeses, and featuring an outer crust made into a pretzel, topped with salt.
Dill Pickle Pizza – Garlic white sauce, chopped pickles with mozzarella and cheddar cheese, drizzled with homemade ranch dressing.
Breakfast Pizza – Scrambled eggs topped with ham, bacon, green peppers, onions, sausage, cheddar, mozzarella, and provolone cheeses.”
His cheeks were ruddy red, and burning. For no reason in particular, he added banana peppers to the Meat Craver variety. Then hit the send icon after entering his saved information.
“That’ll do it dammit! I’m famished! It’s time to eat!”
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