c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(6-25)
The month of June had begun with unseasonably cold temperatures in Ohio. An odd welcome to the summer season which was so close at hand. At Evergreen Estates, this unexpected chill had everyone feeling uneasy, without a specific cause in mind. Something had infused a vibe of finality into the park continuum. A sense that they had, at long last, arrived at a point of great decision. The air crackled with palpable tension. Yet hopelessness kept everyone subdued. The usual rounds of domestic squabbles, disagreements with neighbors, and incursions by sheriff’s deputies, all fell silent.
Then, a notice appeared on the door of every resident. It carried the corporate logo of Pemmican Asset Management, which had its main office on the west coast.
“With sincere regret, it is our duty to inform those who live in this community that the ownership group responsible for overseeing your property has decided that our holdings must be trimmed at this time. In a move to fortify our financial situation, we are about to jettison unprofitable possessions, so that our resources may be used to better maintain those that we feel have genuine value in the marketplace. Be advised that our operations at this park will cease on June 30th. We are surrendering our deed to all the acreage, buildings, and facilities. Wells Fargo will be in charge of liquidating the assets, or reselling them, as they see fit. You will be hearing more about this situation from that respected, financial institution, in the coming days...”
Lincoln was drunk upon receiving this dreadful, company communique. Despite rummaging through drawers in his kitchen for a pair of corrective glasses, he still had difficulty reading the letter. Finally, he crumpled the paper in his fist, and growled while taking another bottle of bourbon out of a cupboard by the broken dishwasher.
“I can’t make any sense of this scribbling! But there’ll damn sure be squawking about it. All I have to do is sit, and wait for the shitstorm to arrive!”
His prediction turned out to be a prophecy that was quickly fulfilled.
Darby Stronelli, the energetic eavesdropper from next door, appeared at the bottom of his access ramp. She took care not to get too close, with the memory of her last visit still fresh in recollection. In her right hand was a copy of the closure announcement.
“HEY BUDDY, DID YOU READ THIS FUCKING NOTICE? WE’RE ALL SCREWED! AND WE ARE! HOW CAN THEY THINK WE’RE GONNA MOVE OUR STUFF IN A MONTH? THAT’S CRAY CRAY! I GOT THREE BARNS OF SHIT TO HAUL OUTTA HERE!”
Lincoln had worn the same clothes for an entire week. He was shaggy and sweaty, and reeked of stale beer, and liquor. His T-shirt boasted stains of many meals, eaten carelessly. Yet any trace of his hillbilly accent disappeared. He was momentarily sharp in focus, despite being full of alcohol.
“I couldn’t read it! My eyes are bad, nowadays. Anything in fine print gets lost...”
The spiky-haired woman cackled and stomped her work boots.
“LINK, YOU’RE A GAWDAMM MESS! THEY’RE DUMPING THIS PLACE, UNDERSTAND? I DON’T FREAKING BELIEVE IT! HOW MUCH MONEY WILL THAT COST THOSE PRICKS? THEY GOT A HUNDRED TRAILERS HERE AT LEAST! THAT’S A LOT OF CASH, I THINK! A LOTTA LOTTA CASH IN THEIR DAMN POCKETS! BUT NOT WHEN THEY QUIT THIS GAME!”
The boozing hermit shrugged and continued to raise his bottle.
“They’ve got their own ways of doing business. Getting rid of a red line on their balance sheet is easy I guess, just a matter of crossing it off the list. Maybe like one of us sending a junk car to the boneyard, because we got tired of spending money on replacement parts...”
Darby snorted and shook her head.
“C’MON LINK! CAN YOU GET YOUR CRAP TOGETHER IN A MONTH? DAMN, DUDE! HOW’S THAT GONNA HAPPEN? YOU CAN’T EVEN WALK! YOU’LL END UP IN THE STREET, ON YOUR BUTT!”
Lincoln nodded with agreement. Her assessment was severe, but correct.
“Yeah, I can’t carry much. Can’t even stand up without at least one of these disability canes. My best bet would be to start a fire and let everything burn down...”
His nosey neighbor seethed with irritation. Her cheeks flushed bright red.
“I TOLD YOU WE SHOULDA DONE THE EX-CROW! FUCK THESE IDIOTS! FUCK THEM! THEY DON’T DESERVE TO GET OUR LOT RENT! EX-CROW! EX-CROW! EX-CROW!”
Her contrarian associate lowered his gaze, and huffed.
“Escrow would’ve just sped up the process. Otherwise, it would be the same. I’d guess they’ve been thinking about this for some time, as an offshoot of the efficiency drive. I bet our county judge halting evictions probably tipped the scales. Why stick around if they can’t run their business efficiently? That’s what it is, after all. A cold-hearted business...”
Darby spat on the ground, and hopped on her spot like an angry rodent.
“NAW, DAMMIT! NAW! IT CAN’T JUST BE ABOUT MONEY! WE’RE ALL LIVING HERE! THINK ABOUT US! IT HAS TO BE ABOUT US! US, US, US!”
Her contact across the empty lot actually laughed out loud.
“See, you say that because it feels good. If you’d ever owned a business, it might be different...”
The angry female kicked and cursed in response. She was once again at the point of losing her temper.
“SO, YOU’RE ON THEIR SIDE, YOU FUCKING TRAITOR? YOU’RE ON THEIR SIDE? YOU DUMB PIECE OF BULL POOP! NO WONDER EVERYBODY HATES YOU AROUND HERE! YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE! A BUTTHEAD ASSHOLE!”
Lincoln scratched his gray beard, and sighed.
“No friend, I’m not on their side. Not at all. They’ve been running this trash pit into the dirt for years. I just don’t think it’s a surprise to see them cut their losses, and run...”
His vocal neighbor suddenly turned quiet. She sputtered fearfully, while pondering the closure of their park.
“What’re we gonna do, Link? Where can we go? I don’t wanna live on the street again! Screw that homeless shit! This is a flipping joke, but it ain’t funny! Not a damn bit funny!”
The reclusive iconoclast did not argue. He huddled over his knees, feeling very inebriated.
“You’re right. It’s not funny at all...”
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