c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(10-26)
When Linn Speck set fire to the singlewide home of his reclusive neighbor, that rebellious act had emboldened him to resume the campaign to lead residents of Evergreen Estates, as head of a community association. He felt powerful and victorious, whenever looking up the street at what remained of that spartan dwelling. Literally, just a heap of ashes and scrap metal, scattered over its original, concrete foundation. But as time passed with the arrival of fall, and a brightening of hues that heralded the seasonal change, he began to realize that his status within their rural development had not improved. Past supporters who previously endorsed his campaign to become their exalted defender now hid when he appeared in public. Attendance at his yard parties dwindled. Gifts of macro beer and salty snacks vanished from his redwood deck. For the first time that he could recall since coming to the junkyard oasis, he was an outcast. Shunned in silence, and no longer a favorite member of their group.
Being treated so rudely darkened his mood. He was unaccustomed to playing the role of an exile, particularly while still living on his corner lot. Eventually, he could not contain the emotions swelling in his gut. While quenching his thirst with chilled cans of Milwaukee’s Best and Jägermeister, sitting alone in a folding chair, the rotund instigator again decided to offer a first-hand protest. Teetering from alcoholic vertigo, he sluggishly walked from his own driveway to the vacant slab which T. C. Lincoln had occupied. Then, stumbled over loose debris at its edge.
“I HOPE YOU ARE IN HELL RIGHT NOW! BECAUSE THAT’S WHERE YOU BELONG, OLD MAN! RIGHT NEXT TO THE DEVIL AND ALL OF HIS POINTY-TAIL BUDDIES! SCREW HIM, AND SCREW YOU TOO! YOU ARE NOTHING BUT DOG CRAP TO ME! I AM GLAD YOU ARE GONE! YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!”
As before, he unzipped his fly and then let loose with a golden shower of urine.
On this occasion however, the nerd girl and gamer, Trina Trelane, had her exterior wi-fi camera activated from next door to the destroyed longbox. She was known by many in the park as ‘Miss Poindexter’ because of her thick, black spectacles, in addition to a nosey disposition that kept her always waiting and watching for things to happen in the park. Her buzzed hair always glowed in a shocking shade of red or purple. The surveillance device she owned had been mounted on a swivel joint, and was able to rotate for a broad-range view of the exterior yard. This meant that no one could pass without being seen.
Once an activity alarm brought the electronic unit to life, it started recording video evidence, automatically. Even after sunset, her distant neighbor could be easily identified in the moonlight. The data stored on an inboard memory-stick could be retrieved, remotely. As it happened, the yield offered damning confirmation of misdeeds that were transpiring, in a timely manner. And, suggested that the visiting perpetrator must have been responsible for what occurred, before.
Trina sputtered milk and sugary cereal, when reviewing the record on her computer.
“Holy shit! That bald bastard really did burn down Link’s trailer! I knew it all along! I knew it! I knew it!”
The isolated development had a Facebook page dedicated to sharing news and notes that related to their tiny enclave. So, she immediately posted a link to the clip, under an anonymous name. Though many who watched the video knew immediately who must have put it online.
Pokemon Queen 46821 – “Take a look at this, everybody! We’ve got a real troublemaker in our midst! Are you surprised? I’m not, not at all! He’s probably still pissed off about being knocked on his butt by the old dude that lived on my eastern side. We weren’t friends really, but I got a kick out of his attitude. That poor guy didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought about his life! I guess you might say he was a free spirit! I am too, yes I am!”
The contrarian boozer had never been popular at Evergreen Estates. Yet a measure of sympathy was generated by the thought of him being homeless. Evictions were common in the park, and always ugly. Therefore, every resident resented the thought of being expelled, under any circumstances.
Predictably, Linn attempted to deny his role in the fire. But with this subsequent demonstration of glee being put on display, he had little credibility with any of the other leaseholders. Horns honked as vehicles passed his vintage abode. Then, beer bottles began to fly. Trash accumulated on his lawn. And obscenities were shouted from the street.
None of these incidents made the flabby instigator feel guilty. He was defiant and proud of removing his opponent from their development. Only a protest from his estranged wife brought any hint of remorse. Her comment on the residential page caused him to chill with emotion.
“I knew it all along, mister! You’ve got no heart. To be honest, you are in love with yourself! I put up with that nonsense for many years, but it’s over now! You’re a fat weasel and a backstabber! You treat everybody the same, like they owe you some kind of worship! So believe me, I am thrilled to see you get exposed in this little community! You deserve to be outed! Good luck, husband! I hope someone kicks your flabby ass! You definitely have it coming!”
The public message provided a double shot of comeuppance. Not only had his role in the act of arson been revealed, but now those who lived in the neighborhood also knew that his marriage was failing. Everything that he depended upon was crumbling at his feet. Only a visit from their county sheriff could make his day any worse.
Linn sat at his kitchen table, swigging cheap brew and German liquor. He cursed and cried while flipping through pages of his wedding album. This session of self-torture eventually brought him to a point of total inebriation. After becoming tipsy, he fell on the linoleum floor. Then rolled from side to side, in an attempt to right himself. But darkness descended as he lost consciousness. He would snore and sniffle while dropping into a woeful state of obliteration that swallowed him, entirely.
His vengeful day of reckoning was now at an end.
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