c. 2025 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(12-25)
On the first day of December, lot rent at Evergreen Estates increased by a sum of $75.00. Not a considerable amount when viewed from the lofty perch of a lawyer, banker, or elected official in Ohio. Yet enough for the blue-collar residents of my neighborhood to become rebellious. Unrest already percolating on the streets of this mobile-home park was increased, many times over. For the property manager, getting residents to pay what they owed in a timely manner had already been challenging. Though the yield of this rise was, in financial terms, glorious for our distant owners. But at ground level in the rural community, it amounted to a frontal assault.
With this new cost in place, mounds of dog feces began to show up around the office and maintenance garage. Along with scattered bags of trash and automotive junk. A rusted-out muffler system was leaning against the entrance door, when I arrived to give my tribute. I had to jostle it out of the way with one of my walking canes. It rattled noisily when hitting the concrete, and disintegrated into a pile of metallic debris.
Because I had been an inhabitant of the isolated wasteland for so long, my reaction to this hike in expenses was nullified. I had already been using credit cards to buy food each week, because my disability stipend only stretched so far. And, I did not qualify for many assistance programs that were available to those with families and different situations. I might have eliminated brown liquor from my daily routine, to help balance this disparity with more important needs. But the thought of trading a bad habits for a change to sobriety caused me to cringe. I figured that no longer savoring the drunken pleasure of Tennessee whiskey, every day, would tempt me to use my Ithaca Model 37 shotgun for a purpose it was never intended. Specifically, ending my torment with an explosive burst to the forehead.
After the short trek to our supervisor’s headquarters, I sat outside in the cold, on my front porch. Layered garments kept me warm enough to drink and grumble, alone. When others passed my driveway and access ramp, in their ratty vehicles, there was much head shaking visible through the frosted glass. Disbelief inspired cursing and exclamations of wonder. Yet I had long ago become known as a hermit with odd habits. So, no one was really surprised.
At some point after sunset, the dip in temperatures caused me to crawl inside, despite being wildly inebriated. I ended up on the sofa, nestled in an assortment of decorative pillows and beverage cans. Snoring loudly and dribbling saliva and alcohol into my beard.
Then, a rowdy gust of wind pressed against the plywood walls of my trailer. It buzzed through all of the window seals, and made my longbox hovel rock sideways on its improvised foundation. From the shadows, a familiar figure emerged. One that was feminine, and fierce. She hovered in the midst of cardboard boxes, stacked cases of beer, and scattered furnishings. Her eyes were like hot coals, glowing and fiery. She reached out with fingertips that were sharp and brilliant.
“GAWDAMM, LINK! YER JUST AS ORNERY AS I REMEMBER FROM YEARS ‘N YEARS AGO! I FIGURED BY NOW Y’ALL MIGHT’VE CHANGED A BIT. BUT NAW, ALL I SEE IS THE SAME DAMN BAG ‘O BONES, ALL DIRTY AND SWEATY AND BABBLING IN YER SLEEP! WHAT THE EFF, YA NEVER DID GET OUTTA THIS SHITHOLE, HUH?”
I was groggy and still loaded. My eyes wouldn’t focus properly. But I recognized her sultry howl.
“Ezzie? Esmeralda Jonovic? The militia queen? How did you manage to escape the pit of hell on a frigid night like this? Was Satan busy torturing souls, or something worse?”
She smiled with pointed fangs. Her lips were broad, and blood-red.
“HE’S AN ASSHOLE, I SWEAR! THAT BASTARD NEVER GOES ANYWHERE FER PLEASURE, IT’S WORK, WORK, WORK, ALL DAMN DAY LONG! I AM SOOOOOOO BORED BEING DOWN THERE WITH HIM! I’D GIVE MY LEFT TIT TA GET BACK HERE FOR A GOOD SWIG OF YER LIKKER AND A BONFIRE! IT WAS FUN LIVIN’ NEXT DOOR, I TELL YA! I ALWAYS APPRECIATED YER COMPANY, EVEN IF Y’ALL DID HAVE SOME FUNNY POLITICAL IDEAS, LIKE ‘LIVE & LET LIVE’ AND ALL THAT SILLY HORSESHIT! YA GOT SOME BIG BALLS, OLD SON, WHY NOT USE ‘EM FER GOOD?”
My cheeks were blistering red, from the heat of her presence. Yet I nodded in agreement.
“I keep to myself. That hasn’t changed...”
The dead militant shrieked with laughter. Then, turned more serious in her mood.
“I HEARD THERE’S A NEW REGIME IN CHARGE HERE, Y’ALL GOT SOME LIMP-WRISTED COMMIES CALLIN’ THE SHOTS! NOW THAT’S HARD TO FRIGGIN’ BELIEVE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS! IT JUST DON’T STAND TA REASON. THERE’S ENOUGH FIREPOWER IN THIS ‘HOOD TA SHOOT UP EVERY TOWN ALONG LAKE ERIE! THERE AIN’T NO REASON TA KISS ASS! SCREW BEIN’ POLITE, PUT UP OR SHUT UP! FIGHT THOSE DICKS! FIGHT FOR GOD AND COUNTRY! FIGHT THOSE CHINAMEN OR RUSSIANS OR WHATEVER THEY ARE!”
I coughed up phlegm and high-proof residue. My longish hair was matted and greasy.
“Ezzie, we don’t know that much about the group that bought our development. But I think their co-op started out as a classroom project. From what I’ve read so far, they want to level the field of play for everyone. That can’t be a bad thing, we’ve been getting robbed for years...”
My erstwhile neighbor cackled defiantly. She did not agree.
“NAW, NAW, NAW, THIS IS HOW IT ALL STARTS! PEOPLE KISS A LITTLE ASS TA GET FAVORED, AND THEN MORE, AND MORE, AND MORE! BLOOD HAS TA SPILL SOMETIME, IT MIGHT AS WELL BE NOW! STAND AND FIGHT, LINK, YA GOT THE BACKBONE! I KNOW IT! I STILL RECALL HOW HARD YA CAN BE WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT! OH YEAH, I DO REMEMBER IT WELL!”
Her wailing subsided with a confident grin of lustful intentions. That vibe of virago superiority turned my stomach. A kiss was waiting, on the pouting crest of her mouth.
“Look, I was rather tipsy in those days, an easy mark for a bounty hunter of sorts...”
She had her hands clenched and ready to strike.
“Y’ALL ARE TIPSY EVERY DAMN DAY! THAT AIN’T NO EXCUSE! I COULD TAKE YER SLOPPY ASS AGAIN, RIGHT NOW, IF I WANTED! RIGHT FREAKIN’ NOW!”
I belched out a breath of stale brew.
“Ezzie, you don’t belong here anymore. People are tired of battle. They are ready for new ideas, new opportunities, and new hope...”
Suddenly, the phantasmic apparition quieted as if being scolded.
“DAMMIT! HE’S CALLIN’ ME FROM THAT DARK PIT OF DEATH! I THOUGHT HE WAS BUSY PLAYIN’ KING SHIT WITH HIS DEMONS! BUT NO! I GOTTA GO BACK NOW, AND BOY, Y’ALL KNOW I DON’T WANNA TO GO BACK! I DON’T EVER WANNA GO BACK!”
A plume of smoke and ash filled my living room. There was a cry of agony and regret. Then, my former companion across the side yard was gone. Her ghastly image had returned to the void.
My whiskey jug had run empty, at last. I took pleasure in knowing that it was time to sleep, and escape.
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