Trailer Trash (Love thy Neighbor?)

By Crystal Benson

     TammieJane lives with her daughter MollyBeth in a small trailer park called 'Shady Grove Trailer Court' which is one of the worst trailer parks in all of Texas.  It's a shady place to live with hardly any shade left.  She is also the manager of this dump, but not by her choice.  Here y'all find potlucks, pot bellies, pot smokers, cheaters, beaters, screamers, criers, and maybe even a few runaways.  Compared to the size of the state, this itty-bitty town of Bottom Grove, Texas has the most action of all places. 

Will it ever end?  Probably not!

There is more that goes on in this Trailer Court than potlucks in the Recreation Hall every Sunday after church.  TammieJane is the manager and could write a book about everything she sees and hears of what goes on here.  If it wasn't for the money from running this place, she would take her daughter, MollyBeth to Hollywood to be an actress.  She learned a lot about drama just by all the daily reports she writes.  Each day was like a soap opera, with either drunken men hitting their women, mama's screaming at their brats or something worse.  911 is pre-programmed for speed-dialing on every phone in the park.  The Cop Shop is three blocks away, but always twenty minutes too late for most incidents.  Oh, and the part about 'love thy neighbor?'  Yeah, that happens more than you think and not just after dark.

     There is more trailer trash here than in the dumpster!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crystal Benson
• Release date: Feb 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386935506

Crystal Benson

Crystal Benson is the middle child of seven children. She was born in Lancaster, California but raised mostly in Illinois and Iowa. She has lived in Iowa, Arizona, California, and New Jersey. She attended school in Moville, Iowa at Woodbury-Central School and in Kingsley, Iowa at Kingsley-Pierson High School. She has worked as an Administrative Assistant and as a Front Desk Supervisor at two different Hotel Establishments. She was never an avid reader until while traveling she picked up a book from a campground library due to boredom. She has been reading books ever since. She now lives in Arizona and misses her traveling days.

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ChApTeR  OnE

Hey, y’all!  My name is TammieJane. 

Way down south is Bottom Grove, Texas, which is an itty-bitty town that sits about five miles from a bigger one.  This town itself may seem small, but the main street has every type of supplies y’all would need without havin’ to leave the area.  Some of the shops are a bookstore, a library, a craft shop, a barber, a beauty salon, and a tv & appliance store on one side of the street.  The other side has a feed store, a lumber and hardware store, four small clothin’ stores, an ice cream shop, several knick-knack shops, a candy store, and a toy store.  Stores that are set aside from the others with more parkin’ available are Dollar General, Bubba’s Bait Shop, Cooter’s Car & Camper Repair, a mini-mart at Gary’s Get Gas & Go, The Yacht Club, and Piggly Wiggly.  On the side streets, the shops are mostly doctor offices and other small business office spaces.  The small Fire Department and the Police Station are both three blocks away from the only trailer park within miles.

There are two eatin’ places, one is Duddley’s Diner and is open 24 hours a day which serves the best meatloaf and fixin’s around these parts.  The other eatin’ place is Barbie’s BBQ which is close to the other end of the long street down by the railroad tracks.  There’s a whole mess of construction to a new buildin’ goin’ up on the other side of the tracks across from Barbie’s BBQ, and the sign out front reads ‘Waffle House coming soon!’  I’m always hearin’ talk about ‘where there’s a Dollar General; a Waffle House is nearby.’

It was a sad day a month ago when Duddley’s Diner had to close up on two days due to the owner’s death.  Unfortunately, Duddley Johnson died while chokin’ on a chicken bone found in his chicken and dumplin’s.  He left a will for two of his favorite waitresses, Hayley, and Alyssa to take over his business.  The girls were not related, and neither one of ‘em knew a spittin’ thing on how to cook, so they left the Diner’s name the same and kept workin’ the tables.  All the help stayed on and was thankful for a job, and the business ran, as usual.  The only two days it ever closed was the day Duddley died and the day of the funeral when the Undertaker laid him in the ground.  Duddley was a good ol’ man, and the locals here will miss him forever.

Now, Barbie’s BBQ was somethin’ else all together cuz she served up the best bar-b-que anythin’.  She always listed everythin’ on the menu which her three brothers brought back to her, after their day of huntin’ in the woods.  Deer, beef, and pork weren’t the only thing she served up dipped in sauce.  She had all kinds of small animal meat she fixed into nuggets, like fox, rabbit, raccoon, squirrel, and beaver all with their special dippin’ sauce.  Many a-folks would come from all over to try out her bar-b-que deer ribs, fried taters, and coleslaw platter. 

Barbie’s parents owned a cattle ranch, so the brothers had a backup plan if deer huntin’ season was over.  Their mother made the bar-b-que sauce, but Barbie smoked the meat for hours at just the right temperature to make the meat slide off the bone.  Most of her customers liked to gnaw on the rib bones and lick the sauce off ‘em too.  She had to change the listin’ on one of her menu items from her famous ‘Big Boner Platter’ to ‘Big Bone-in Platter’ cuz one of the church ladies made a formal complaint to Deputy Bottom sayin’ the wordin’ was just down-right nasty.  There’s one in every crowd!

Now, we get a lot of ‘em tourists wantin’ to ride around and see what we all look like since we are on the map as a sight to see when in Texas.  There are still billboards along the freeway tellin’ y’all how to get here from there and to bring a camera to take pictures of the town.  I mean, we all love to have y’all stop on in here and make y’all selves at home, it’ll keep the town on the map and make the local businesses happy too.  Why, heck, I even keep a space or two open in my trailer court for those over-night RV’ers who actually want to spend two days here wanderin’ around the area.  Now, of course, that was way before this town became the sideshow of the bigger one up the road a bit.  Now we folks, we got ourselves some pride here too, just not in the trailer court I’m stuck havin’ to manage for unknown reasons to me.

Now you see, I was born and raised here, so I ain’t been too far from home much, but over to that bigger city and back to here again.  When I graduated from high school, which was a blessin’ on my part, my girlfriends and I all went out and got stoned with some college boys, but still made it home before mornin’.  We all left our cars at home, knowin’ we were gonna party all night and didn’t want to be out drivin’ anyway. 

I thought my folks saved up money all these years for my college tuition too.  I figured I might not make it through the first year, but it would get me away from here.  The only thing is, a week later they took my funds, packed their bags, and moved out west to Arizona to a small town called Bullhead City, Arizona.  They wrote me a note and left it layin’ on the kitchen counter for me to find when I woke up the next day.  The paper said I had to grow up sometime and take responsibility for my life, which they thought NOW was as good a time as ever. 

They were the managers of this place for ten years and passed the baton to me as the ‘new manager’ of this soap opera drama dump called ‘Shady Grove Trailer Court.’  My mama taught me how to audit the books and papers for the business, so when daddy got sick, she could take care of him.  Why are men such babies when they get a cold?  This place is huge with ninety-four rented spaces, and half of these ‘so-called tenants’ could run a Payton Place of their own.  This trailer court used to have lots of trees like a shady grove, so I imagine it is how it got its name.  Over the years most all the trees here dried up and died, so now it’s just a different kind of shady.

I hated the thought of bein’ alone after my parents left, but nine months after one of those college boys kissed me at a party, I ended up with a roommate.  She’s a pretty little thing and looks just like a mini-me, she acts like me too.  I named her MollyBeth after Mildred in space 27 and Beth in space 28, my mama’s two best friends, who are also sisters.  Mildred legally changed her name to Molly to feel young again.  They used to take care of me sometimes when I was in grade school, and now they alternate babysittin’ for my kid if I need to get out and mingle again.  I told ‘em I’m a little more careful when I drink or smoke some of the ‘mary j wanna’ now.  One little crumb-snatcher is enough for me now since I ain’t married ‘n all.  

I’m still livin’ in space 25 in the same two-bedroom trailer, but the master bedroom is now mine, and the other room is the bedroom for MollyBeth.  My little girl is three and a half already, and I had to put up a fence in the front to keep her outta the street when she plays in the yard.  I feel bad when she looks across the way and barks at the dogs like she’s one of ‘em behind a fence too.  I gotta give her credit though, cuz when they start yappin’ and get her barkin’ back at ‘em, they shut right up, bless her little heart.

I received a mysterious letter in my mailbox one-day, years past statin’ I inherited half of this gold mine, ha, ha.  The letter was hand-delivered and shoved in with the rest of my mail, so there was no postmark on it from where it came.  The message read somethin’ like, if I could keep the revenue of ‘Shady Grove Trailer Court’ above water for five years, the real reason I am stuck here would come to town with a good explanation and sign over his half.  All I gotta say is it better be more than a great story like maybe a blow me away fantastic story!

Now, y’all may think I can just up ‘n leave anyways, but this here ankle bracelet says I can’t.  I got it as a souvenir when I got drunk one night at the Policeman’s Ball at the bigger city over yonder.  Deputy Frank Bottom invited a bunch of us from this here trailer court cuz he wanted our vote at the next election for Sheriff.  Of course, the few of us who went had to wear proper clothes ‘n all, wife-beater shirts, tank tops, cut off jeans and flip-flops were not acceptable attire.  Well, I guess I got a little too drunk and also pissed off an FBI agent in the midst of it all.  My fat, hot pink, sparkled, ankle accessory is now more fashionable than the standard basic black ‘Property of FBI’ ankle monitor bracelet.  

After about a week wearin’ it, I no longer limp bein’ offset with more weight on one leg than the other, I just carry my kid on the other hip to balance my walk.  I already done tried to pry the darn bracelet off and to my surprise, two men showed up with FBI badges tellin’ me it can’t happen again.  Well, little do they know, it can, but I won’t do it again.  One of ‘em said, when the time is right, the one who ordered it there will come and take it off.  The next day I bitched to Deputy Bottom that those men came faster from somewhere than his men have from the Cop Shop three blocks away when I dial 911.

The town got its name from Frank Bottom’s great-great-grandma, ‘Kathy Louise Bottom.’  While at the Doctor’s office and waitin’ for her appointment, she read a newspaper article that stated drinkin’ the juice from black cherries will help with her bowel movements.  Well, the story goes that Kathy drove right on over to the big city ‘Pick & Plant’ garden and nursery by the same afternoon.  She talked to the store owner and bought the whole inventory of dwarf black cherry trees and had ‘em delivered and planted on her property before the day was over. 

Kathy Bottom was a well-liked woman in town and very generous too.  She also bought regular cherry trees, and donated ‘em to this nearby trailer court, so the tenants here wouldn’t jump the fence and eat her cherries.  Within a year and a half, her grove of trees started producin’ enough juice, so she bottled up the stuff and sold it at the local market.  That was before they built the Piggly Wiggly which we have now.  She had a great sense of humor, unlike her great-great-grandson, and made a slogan up to be printed on the bottles which read, ‘From one Bottom to Another, it’s the juice to poop’ so she named the liquid ‘Poop Juice.’  She made a lot of money and got the town to grow by puttin’ up a sign at both ends of the road to make drivers stop on in and check it out. 

Deputy Frank Bottom lives with his mama, and they are now the only Bottom family members still livin’ in town.  You can tell he stays in the shadow of his mama’s apron.  I heard Frank’s mama call him Francis at the church social on Sunday and man y’all should see him shrug the chill off his shoulders.  I’ve done called him the name too, when I get pissed when he don’t come a-runnin' fast enough when I got me some trouble in my trailer court.  I’ve already been told I can’t shoot my tenants, not even in their foot to stop their bickerin’, so, therefore, we gotta wait for the cops to show up late as usual.  Deputy Bottom was always reachin’ for his sides and hitchin’ up his pants before he started to walk.  He tried to leave me a bunch of incident forms one night, so when trouble happens again, which it will, I could get started fillin’ ‘em out.  I told him, Damn you, Frank, I ain’t the doggone Park Police, y’all do your own job!

Years ago, this here town used to be called a landmark, yep believe it or not.  People would flock the streets just to get the souvenirs which read bottoms-up, hittin’ bottom, butt-head, ass-wipe, or anythin’ else to do with your derriere.  Every store in town stocked t-shirts, signs, magnets, posters, cups, and mugs, well y’all name it, they done sold it. 

The Cop Shop received a gift box of coffee mugs, and every one of ‘em read butt-head, and the men were the only ones drinkin’ from ‘em.  Someone in their establishment wrote ‘dumb ass’ on all the water cups in their lunchroom over by the big ol’ water jug which they filled with sweet tea, imagine that. 

One of the women in the station is Officer PamelaJean Whipper who is the youngest employee in the office and can run the whole place by herself.  She is the silent instigator of the gift box of mugs, and the one who boils up a fresh batch of sweet tea every night to bring into the office every mornin’.  She has the tall drinkin’ glass which she takes into work each day which reads, ‘Sweet as Sugar, Hard as Ice, Cross me Once, I’ll Shoot y’all Twice.’  She likes livin’ out in the country and made herself a private shootin’ range for more practice in case she is ever called in for backup on a police call.

I remember once when I went to the Cop Shop to file a report on a-missin' gallon jug of sweet tea.  Apparently, SallyJo in space 46 left it on her porch one mornin’ when she went to church.

***Now SallyJo always talked to all the single women at church tellin’ ‘em to find a good man all they needed to do was cook somethin’ special for the potlucks.  She told DonnaMae from our trailer court to watch if a single man went back for seconds on her food.  It was a tell-tale sign which he was either hungry or loved her cookin’ and to go and chat with him a bit.*** 

When the potluck was all over, and the folks took their dishes back home, SallyJo freaked out screamin’ and told me to call 911.  She was shakin’ from head to toe sayin’ she was a victim of burglary of her jug of sweet tea from her front porch, and by golly, it was gone by the time she returned home. 

***It’s the only jug in her row of trailers with a bright yellow sunflower hand-painted on the glass.  She bought the glass jar at the Piggly Wiggly.  She almost started a cat-fight right there in the store in aisle 4 with Virginia Lou in space 18, another tenant from our trailer court.  The jar was the only one with a sunflower hand-painted on it cuz the others had butterflies on ‘em.  There was a really nice jar with lemons painted on it, but it’s just wrong to put sweet tea in a lemonade jar!***

I told SallyJo just to walk on over and ask Bobby in space 48 if he done took it.  He was always tryin’ to flirt with her and probably has it so she would have to go to his place to get it back.  He would then ask her to sit down and chat a bit, but no, I have a responsibility to my tenants to help when needed accordin’ to the damn letter. 

***I swear, one of these days, that dang letter is gonna be the death of me yet.  The person who wrote the letter to me wanted everythin’ noted and recorded of any crime, harassment, cat-fight, and soap opera drama which happens in this dump.  Maybe the guy who wants to know the goin’ on’s here is gonna write a book about this here trailer court and call it ‘Trailer Trash’ now wouldn’t that just be a hoot!***

The time when I called 911 about SallyJo’s burglary, Officer Whipper told me Deputy Bottom was out of the office on another incident.  It was when I walked the three blocks to the Cop Shop to file the damn report.  After I stepped in through the front door with my little girl, MollyBeth to her office, she asked, Why, did y’all drive here so quick?  I still don’t have anyone to go out to your place to do a ground search of the area for the tea jug.

As I point down at my daughter, I say, I didn’t drive at all, we walked here, and we did it as slow as her little legs would go.  I don’t like to make her run a marathon like I see some mama’s do.  It is such a pretty day out so I thought I would bring my daughter for y’all to watch while I filed the report for one of my tenants on the stolen sweet tea jug.

Officer Whipper was about my age and had a funny sense of humor havin’ to listen to all the crap which happens in my trailer court, either each day or each week.  She worked here at the front counter durin’ the day but helped out her best friend, Debbie at The Yacht Club on the weekends.  The Yacht Club was the coolest name the owner, Marcus Waters in space 29 could name the only bar in town.  He didn’t own a boat and the nearest water source was from a garden hose.

I’d love to babysit this little squirt sometime if you want to go out and party at The Yacht Club some night with your friends.  Heck, I’ll give y’all a drink voucher too for all the stress you deal with in your dang trailer court you run over yonder.

I smile and say, Thanks, but lately every night this week someone is complainin’ about other people’s dogs runnin’ loose and poopin’ in their yard.  Like what am I to do about it, go around and match up the size of dog poop to each dog’s butt?

MollyBeth started gigglin’, surprisin’ly not when I said poop, but when I finished talkin’ and said the word butt!  She has the sweetest little giggle which can get the whole room laughin’.  When she sees other people laughin’ along with her, it’s when she starts goin’ overboard.  Her drama is grabbing at her belly and leaning back a tad still gigglin’.

Officer Whipper and I kept laughin’ until we saw Deputy Bottom and another officer escortin’ a half-naked drunk through a side door that led right to the detainin’ room.  From there, another officer will take the deputy’s chicken scratch report of drunk and indecent exposure.  He’ll rewrite it then follow up with the detainee to have him finger-printed, and then taken down the hall further to the bookin’ area for his overnight stay in a cell.

I finished fillin’ out the report on the missin’ jug and handed the paper over to be input into the computer.  MollyBeth politely asked for a lollipop sucker which she saw in a jar on the back counter.  After both items got exchanged, I picked up my daughter and told the officer I would get back with her on the drink vouchers.  Right before I was to walk out the door with MollyBeth on my hip, I heard the inmate wallowin’ about losin’ his shirt literally right off his back.  He said he wasn’t completely drunk yet either.  When I turned around, I recognized him and his voice as the principal from my school of a few years back, what a shame!

The walk on the way back to the trailer court seemed a bit longer cuz I was carryin’ my sleepy little girl the whole way.  When we got home, my legs were plum tired of walkin’.  In her bedroom, MollyBeth slowly let go of her hold on me to be laid down on her bed for her nap.  When I stood up, I still felt a little weight on my back and reached around to pull the remainin’ red lollipop sucker off my shirt.

Hard to believe, but the rest of the night for me was as quiet as a mouse sneakin’ through the halls of a cat house.

ChApTeR  TwO

While I had a quiet night, the next day was a different story altogether.  Each day in this trailer court was a new adventure for my report book which got thicker each week.  Last