c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(8-26)
Health journals across the North American continent were filled with stories of senior men who suffered cardiac emergencies, and fell into bouts of depression as a result. Or, who were driven into extreme regimens of fitness and endurance, to bolster themselves against having such episodes in the future. But for Townshend Carr Lincoln, there was no change in his daily routine after surviving a near-death experience. Instead of fretting over his age and physical condition, he simply caught a ride home from the hospital with one of his nephews. Then, took a seat on the wooden bench that was his favored spot for drinking in the afternoon hours, and began to indulge in the household reserve of Evan Williams Bottled-in-Bond Bourbon.
It did not take long to reach a point of tipsy detachment from his environment. As notifications filled the Messenger app on his cell phone, he swooned in between swallows of the brown liquor. His niece, who was still on duty with her employer, sent a humble plea for sanity as he continued to imbibe.
“Uncle Link, I hope you didn’t go home and start boozing it up again! You need to take it easy for a while. I am guessing you were told to check with your regular doctor in a week or so, to monitor your heart rhythm. Stay clear of the pickled sausages and pork rinds...”
The shaggy hermit laughed to himself while guzzling his high-proof swill. He was glad she could not hear his terse response.
“They wanted me to wear a home monitor, but I won’t tell you that of course!”
Another line of text appeared on his wireless device as the drinking continued.
“This is really serious! You’ve got to buckle down and pay attention! If my mom were still alive, she’d grab you by the ear! We can’t handle another funeral in the family right now. Do you understand?”
Lincoln belched and passed wind in a dual show of gastronomic defiance. He did not have any intention of surrendering his liberties in the name of staying alive and independent.
“Girl, when the time comes, I want to be right here, with a whiskey tumbler in my hand! Not stuck in a bed with tubes in both arms and wires attached to my skull. I’ve seen too many other people in this family expire in that fashion. It’s a kind of ending I refuse to write for myself. Let me go with a blast of moonshine and a hand-rolled cigar! They can bury my carcass in the yard here, next to a Black Lab, Golden Retriever, and a half-dozen cats...”
His courage was stalled for a moment, upon realizing it was at just such a point in the normal arc of his weekly timeline that the first cardiac event had occurred. This sobering realization made him pause and take inventory of his faculties. His bones ached, his head throbbed, and he felt woozy with fatigue. Yet all of these symptoms were quite normal, and did not concern him in the least. So, with a tip of his bottle, he began to swallow the potent distillation again.
His eyes watered freely. A burning sensation filled his throat. Everything was as it should be, on a typical day in the rustic, trailer village.
As this ritual grew more intense, another message appeared on his phone. This time from a younger nephew.
“Uncle Link, I worry about you living alone. Did you ever think of getting a place in our neighborhood? I think it would be better to have you right on this street, like everybody else. We want to help you stay safe. You matter to us!”
The contrarian loner shuddered at the thought of being visited every day. His privacy was a benefit of being separated by a buffer zone of miles, at a remote park in the pines. He answered by talking to himself, on the porch.
“Nah, thanks buddy! Your sister would be hounding me about how much I eat and drink over here. She’d be bringing me hummus and salads and all kinds of fancy, vegetarian horseshit! I don’t need that prissy kind of chicken scratch, I want real, down-home vittles! The kind of meals they serve in God’s country, not a college cafeteria! With a stiff beverage afterward, to calm my damn nerves! That’s the grub that’ll get me saying halleluiah, and amen!”
As he emptied the container of Kentucky spirits, a neighbor to the east appeared in his gravel driveway. Darby Stronelli stood nervously at the foot of his access ramp, fearing to come any closer. But her canine companions did not feel the same need to maintain their distance. Both young, spotted pooches came running to offer affection.
“Link, how are you doin’ buddy? I really figured you were gone this time, and I did! My husband said you were white as a ghost. They made a big scene gettin’ you outta here. That was off the hook, bruh! I figured they’d be sizin’ your ass up for a coffin!”
Lincoln shrugged while maintaining the tempo of his libation.
“Honestly, I don’t remember much about it. I faded out in the middle of getting blitzed. The EMT crew said I fell on my porch, and landed against the storm door. All I remember is being sore as hell when I woke up in the Intensive Care Unit. Those nurses were going wild. It’s the most female attention I’ve had in years...”
Darby frowned and stomped her work boots. A sheen of sweat glistened in her spiky hair.
“You dumb old bastard! That was a wake-up call and here you are gettin’ loaded again! Look at you, it’s like nothing bad ever happened!”
The solitary bum shrugged for a second time, and wheezed phlegm from deep in his lungs.
“Look, everybody has a timer ticking away. You only get so much on the clock. That’s how it goes for everybody. When it’s my turn to make an exit, I won’t shed any tears. Screw that kind of weakness! Let me die holding a glass in my hand!”
His neighbor winced with a visible amount of concern. But stifled a desire to lecture him about having such a careless attitude.
“Okay, buddy. I get it. You don’t care about livin’ or dyin’ right now. It’s all good. But just remember you’ve got friends in this park. People who actually care about you being well and happy!”
Lincoln burst into a fit of raucous chortling. Both of his middle fingers raised, in unison.
“HAPPY? IN THIS AWFUL RATHOLE? THAT’S FREAKING HILARIOUS! BUT TO QUOTE ELVIS PRESLEY, ‘THANK YOU! THANK YOU VERY MUCH!’”
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