Brokenhearted in Bakersfield
16 - UPWARDLY MOBILE
Doom wears the grin of a
splattered Three Horned Piss Lizard.
Broken Heart Park was draped trailer-to-hitch in black crêpe. Oh, it ain’t like we was all sentimental or
anything about Edna’s tragic passing, or the hundreds of dollars’ worth of
damage; it was just that the train that ripped through the heart of our beloved
community was filled with decorations for Halloween. Once that locomotive jumped those tracks it
released black crêpe paper that was draped over just about everything, and to
look at Broken Heart Park you might think we was tee-peed by juvenile jokers
from a mortician’s school. But there
wasn’t going to be no services for Edna Peevy, who was already mopped up and
just a memory, and there’d be no fancy wake with bitty cheese sandwiches or
cocktail weenies for us grieving survivors.
Feeling sorry for myself, I sort of ambled on over to check in with Chet and
Hippie Mary. I knocked on their open
door. “Howdy, neighbors,” I inquired
real friendly, “got beer?”
There was a whirl of activity going on. From behind me came a voice, “Well,
look who it is. I haven’t seen you since
the farm went bust.” Hippie Mary’s
bracelets and beads jangled as she tossed an aluminum chair past me.
“You’re too late. Beer’s been packed.”
“Whoa,” I stammered, “what’s going on?”
“Can’t you see? We’re moving out. We’re through putting up with crooks and
thieves and crooked cops stealing our crops, and now that Edna....” Hippie Mary
stopped mid-sentence, and I believe I saw her eyes well up with tears.
Outside I heard a heavy crane start to pull the giant locomotive out of Broken
Heart Park and put it back onto the rails it rode in on. I had to wonder what are the odds that the
train that comes by Broken Heart Park would be vandalized with the entrails of
piss-lizards causing it to jump off its tracks and kill a longtime friend and
neighbor?
Then I noticed Hippie Mary was talking again, as I caught her saying something
about “…and Chet can start his job at the Gas’n’Gulp.”
“Stop right there,” I held up a hand.
“Did you say Chet Baker’s gonna work at the Gas’n’Gulp?”
“He is,” Hippie Mary answered, hands firmly placed on hips. “All he has to do is sit in that little bulletproof
box and make change. He can do that.”
“What for?”
“So we can afford Stardust Acres.”
“Stardust Acres?”
“Stardust Acres.”
“Chet,” I hollered into the trailer, “is that true? You move’n on out to Stardust Acres?”
I saw his lumbering shape moving back and forth in the shadows. I feared the worst.
Then a sweet, familiar voice rose from behind, “Can I catch a ride with
ya’ll?” It was Lorleen Littlesum
herself, my lovely dancing Indian Princess neighbor. And she was standing right there next to me
with her short-shorts on and tube top stretched taut against her chest, and
holding a packed suitcase.
“You, too?” I couldn’t hide my shock and
horror.
“Like, I’m so outta here,” Lorleen’s eyes darkened, and I could see she was
very serious for a dancer. “I’ve given
it a lot of thought. I’ve decided to
move to Stardust Acres and shorten my commute.
Mr. Smite’s renovated the old motel out back into affordable studio
apartments, and he’s offered me a very good deal.”
“That makes Sonny Smite your landlord as well as your boss,” I cautioned her,
“ain’t that a coincidence of interests?”
“I don’t know nothing about coincidences,” she sniffed. “All I know is Sonny, I mean, Mr. Smite, has
painted the place real nice, and he’s put in hotplates and sinks with running
water and a mini-fridge in the kitchenette.
He convinced me, like, I deserved a better standard of living than this trash heap.”
It about broke my heart to hear Lorleen call Broken Heart Park a trash heap. But before I could muster any words of
protest, a dark green flatbed truck pulled up and a cloud of dust settled over
us, as I noticed a logo for Stardust Acres painted on the truck’s side.
Hippie Mary pointed to the truck and said, “Stardust Acres has a special, time-limited
offer to move in new tenants,” she uttered the magic words, “for free.”
“But, Mary…” I tried to reason with her, palms turned up.
“Let’s go, Chet,” Hippie Mary cut me off.
“We still need to pry the picnic table off the cement. I know you just got through nailing it down,
but we aren’t leaving it behind.”
I’ll admit my eyes was misting up as I watched the little Breezy River DeLuxe
mobile home get hauled up onto the back of that green flatbed truck. I even considered throwing myself in front of
the vehicle to prevent them from leaving, but I knew that would only slow them
down. As my mouth hung open caked with
dust, I sadly witnessed my friends and neighbors head on out to start a new
life at Stardust Acres.
Black crêpe flapped all around me.