c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(12-25)
With the rent strike in effect, I did not anticipate encountering a line at the door of Dana Alvarez, our park manager. In fact, I suspected that no one else in the community was likely to pay their monthly bill on time. Except perhaps for my neighbor across the street, Maylene Jefka. She was a matronly old widow with a strong sense of duty and honor. For her, shirking the responsibility of a leaseholder might represent a slide into sin. That was something too distasteful to imagine her embracing. Yet for anyone else, the notion of evading contractual obligations would be welcome. There had already been plenty of grousing about the rise in our regular fee, of $75.00.
On my way to our village office, I had to pass the corner home of Linn and Haki Speck. I could see that one of them had hidden behind tattered drapes in their front window. The reflected glare of binocular lenses flashed briefly, as I hobbled along. This telltale sign almost made me want to raise a one-fingered salute while in motion. Yet I restrained myself, and kept silent. Standing guard at the maintenance garage was Aimes Hefti, who had positioned himself so as to be out-of-sight from the personnel who were present. I expected some sort of confrontation to occur, and while dragging my canes across the tarmac, he stepped into my path with the boldness of an instigator.
“WHERE YA GOIN’ LINK? Y’ALL GONNA HAND YER CHECK OVER TA THAT BIG-EYED BITCH, IN PERSON? I FIGURED THIS SITUATION MIGHT’VE WOKEN YER ASS UP! BUT NO, YA DON’T DESERVE THAT MUCH CREDIT! GO AHEAD AND KISS HER ROUND BUTT, DO IT LIKE A GOOD LITTLE DICKHEAD! Y’ALL MAKE ME SICK!”
I paused to catch my breath. His challenge stiffened my resolve. As a visceral reaction, I wanted to swing one of my canes toward his teeth. But I could see that he was carrying his sidearm in a holster. It hung from his belt as an open invitation for chaos. Something I did not need or want.
“Commando, you’re a damn nuisance. Let me pay my tribute and go home, okay? I don’t need the sheriff calling when Christmas is so near. My plan is to get drunk and pass out, so Santa Claus can leave me a lump of coal by the garbage bin, like last year...”
Aimes adjusted his stance, and grunted with a growl of disgust.
“OLD MAN, YA GOT NO EFFIN’ BALLS! I THINK THIS SHITHOLE HAS SCREWED UP YER HEAD! AIN’T YA BEEN FRIGGED ENOUGH OVER THE YEARS? THESE CROOKS ARE DONE ROBBIN’ US, THEY’LL GET NO MORE MONEY FROM ME OR ANYBODY! THEY CAN CALL OUT THE LAWMEN, I DON’T GIVE A DAMN! LET ‘EM STAMPEDE IN HERE LIKE A HERD OF BULLS! WE’RE UP FER SOME ACTION! THE PARK MILITIA IS ARMED AND READY!”
I knew his attitude would be different with deputies on our streets. But arguing the point was useless. I let him chatter away while turning toward the office door.
Upon entering, I could hear Dana Alvarez pleading with a distant representative, over her cell phone. There were still swaths of spray paint on the outside walls, and bags of rubbish sitting around its perimeter.
“Ayyyyy, you gotta do something, boss! These people have gone loco, you get me? They tore up my little spot here, and I don’t have one check in the drop box! No dinero, compadre! We are broke for this month, totally, flat-ass broke! You gotta do something! Call the big guy, Sheriff Rath, at the county’s safety center!”
The voice of Nakano Volca buzzed in her ear, from his own workspace in Ithaca, New York. He did not sound pleased.
“Ms. A, I thought we had made some progress with the takeover by my credit cooperative. Don’t these people understand that we are trying to help improve their station in life? Every owner that has worked with Wells Fargo seems to have exploited their ignorance. We want to give them a measure of dignity, and a fair shake! Why isn’t that good enough?”
The on-site supervisor shrugged while tapping at her computer keyboard.
“Hey, I don‘t know! This is nothing like managing apartments, the people here are dirty and dumb. They want everything for free! I’ve seen dozens of ‘em come and go already, and I ain’t been here too long. Ay caramba! But it’s a job, you know?”
He sighed regretfully while making notes about the unpaid bills.
“Our strategy as a collective is to work with those in debt. We don’t like dealing with police officers, of any kind. It is against our philosophy. This is a refuge from traditional bankers and their enforcement partners...”
Alvarez snorted cigarette smoke. She wanted to end the call and lock her door.
“Okay, okay, I get you. You ain’t gonna do nothin’ about this, right? So, what happens next month? And the month after that? And the next month, after that? How are you payin’ the bills here, señor?”
Her comrade from the Proletariat Property Co-op was stymied by this logical appeal. Yet unwilling to surrender his viewpoint without analysis and discussion.
“There’ll be a way to negotiate, let me have a conversation with the governing board at my company. A hasty decision would not be wise. Trust me on this, we have been in business for a long time...”
The park caretaker slammed her device on the desk. Then, she stubbed out her smoke.
“I’m done with that imbécil. He can beso my culo grande! I’ll call Mister Tom myself. That guy will get things done, he has some big cojones! He knows how to handle this redneck dump!”
Stacey Perk, a young secretary at the safety center, took this desperate call as a polite gesture. But did not forward the request for contact until a superior was available. The morning had been busy with meetings and press inquiries. But finally, her petition to be heard was granted.
Sheriff Tom T. Rath was at his desk in the department facility. He wanted to enjoy a coffee break before sorting through postal mail and handling disputes left from the previous day. But his underling insisted on being acknowledged.
“Sir, I got a call from the manager at Evergreen Estates. I’m sure you are very familiar with that location, it is the development of mobile homes in our northeastern township. She said you need to serve eviction orders for some of their residents, immediately! The court filings have already been made. She has called three times, today!”
The law professional bowed his head in reflection. He had been glad not to deal with issues in the park for several months. Something that seemed like a miracle.
“Alright, alright, I hear you! We never have good luck in that place, it’s always a headache. But it comes with the territory. How many notices has the judge signed? How many families do we have to chase out of their homes?”
Stacey shuffled a stack of official, faxed documents they had received. There were more than she could count, quickly.
“Umm, to be honest sir, it looks like... almost all of them!”
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