[Listen]
[Sound of an ax chopping wood. Quirky music fades in…]
Christopher Gronlund:
I want to make one thing perfectly clear: this show is not about lumberjacks…
My name is Christopher Gronlund, and this is where I share my stories. Sometimes the stories contain truths, but most of the time, they’re made up. Sometimes the stories are funny—other times they’re serious. But you have my word about one thing: I will never—EVER—share a story about lumberjacks.
This time, the residents of a trailer park battle the city and developers in an attempt to save their homes from demolition to make way for a golf course.
But first, the usual content advisory…
“Lakeview Estates” deals with the loss of homes, a broken housing market, corruption, mention of drug and alcohol abuse (including teen marijuana use), death, arson, violence, incarceration, and marriage infidelity. Also: after a six-episode run with no swearing, that’s back, too!
Man, that content advisory makes it sound like you’re in for a brutal story, but I can assure you: it doesn’t linger on any of those elements very long, other than people fighting to save their homes.
All right, let’s get to work!
Lakeview Estates
Prologue
Everybody has a dream. Before falling asleep most nights, Jerrod Pyle dreamed about walking across a stage to thunderous applause. The speech he gave changed depending on his mood, but he was always the first person to win an Oscar in an Iron Maiden t-shirt.
Bonnie Kirkland dreamed about going on the Price is Right and winning big. When she was younger, her mom won a TV on the show, but Bonnie wouldn’t settle until she took the Showcase Showdown.
Carlos Espinosa was a fix-anything grease monkey who dreamed of one day racing funny cars and leaving Sean Bellemeur and Doug Gordon in his dust.
No one knew what the Flynn triplets dreamed about, but it was likely based off something they saw in Half-Baked or a Cheech and Chong movie.
Noah Cooper dreamed about becoming a professional wrestling superstar. He had a long way to go, but he was the reigning Pineywoods Wrestling Alliance’s Hardcore Championship.
Not everyone’s dreams were as lofty. Ms. Rose dreamed about simply making it to the end of her life while dealing with as little bullshit as possible.
These dreams might seem funny to most people, but dreams were all that’s left in Lakeview Estates Mobile Home Park.
* * *
Jerrod was walking along Pine Street, on his way to Nate’s Corner for his Friday morning Gansitos and Dr. Pepper breakfast, when he saw the sign.
Zoning Change
Notice of public meeting about this property
For information call: 987-555-1212
He pulled his phone from his pocket, snapped a photo, and continued on his way.
* * *
Since its construction in 1961, Nate’s Corner stood at the crossroads of Kimball Avenue and Dove Road in the tiny East Texas town of Tooksberry. The white, clapboard building not only served as the town’s only gas station, but welcomed locals with groceries and bait—and travelers with refreshments and souvenirs. They were known for their kolaches, and heaven help the pedant who pointed out the sausage rolls were actually called klobasneks, while kolaches were fruit pastries. That’s not how things worked in Texas.
The second story of the building was a small apartment where the store’s owner, Nathan Yate, lived. Just like his name, he inherited the business from his father, who inherited it from his. Between the two windows of the upper floor were painted wooden American and Texas flags. Three small spotlights hung from the soffit above, shining brightly on the painting at night so even the drunkest of residents would never forget where they lived.
Jerrod entered the store and waved.
“Mornin’, Nate.”
“Morning, Jerrod. How’s it going?”
“Good. You?”
“One of those mornings where I wish I was a trust fund baby with all the time in the world to sleep in.”
“That would be the life,” Jerrod said. He entered the snack aisle and grabbed two packs of Gansitos without slowing down. At the far end, he swung past the drink coolers and grabbed a Dr. Pepper.
“Ah, the Friday breakfast,” Nate said.
Jarrod pointed to the Gansito packs. “Well, just one. The other goes in the freezer for tomorrow morning.”
“I can always put a couple packs in the ice cream freezer for you when I close on Thursday nights.”
“Thanks, but I like my routine.”
“Gotcha.”
After Nate rung up the order, Jerrod said, “Have you heard anything about a zoning change in town?”
“No. Why?”
“I saw a sign about it while walking here.”
Jerrod pulled out his phone and showed Nate the photo.
“Where is this?” Nate said.
“Right at the bend where Pine Street turns into Taylor. Right there in front of the trailer park.”
“You gonna call?”
“Yeah, when they open” Jerrod said. “Would be nice finding out what’s up. Especially since it’s right there.”
“Yeah. I wonder if it’s the town center Itchy’s always going on about.”
“That’s a good point. Ever since Holstein built one, he’s been obsessed with making this town like them.”
“I swear, that boy needs his own vision.”
“He’s too dumb for that,” Jerrod said.
The two laughed, and Nate said, “That’s why he’s our mayor.”
* * *
The 75 mobile homes of Lakeview Estates were packed into a 1000 by 750-foot rectangle of land on the edge of Tooksberry, over 250 lives playing out each day where meadows and ponds gave way to thicket and pines. It was the only home Jerrod Pyle ever knew. When the property owner, William Pate, moved to Conroe to be closer to his daughter and grandchildren, there was only one person he trusted with running the trailer park. It was a job Jerrod took as seriously as his passions. He ensured those who rented never waited long before something broken was fixed, and he was always lenient with those a bit behind on payments. The pride he took in the trust extended to him by Mr. Pate carried over to the residents. It was not a dusty community full of dilapidated structures and cars up on blocks, the kind of place where children in dirty diapers raced past dogs chained to trees and fences. The residents of Lakeview Estates may not have possessed much in the way of material goods, but they made up for it with dignity.
As Jerrod made his way toward the office trailer, he saw Noah Cooper lifting weights beneath a cedar elm in his side yard. Noah had leveled a spot beneath the tree for a square rubber gym mat, a weight bench, and dumbbells. Anyone who had seen him wrestle knew that stealing his gear would not be in their best interests. In addition to the potential hernia from moving so much iron, one would not want to find themselves on the wrong side of someone who was regularly slammed through folding tables, took steel chair shots to the head, and rolled around in barbed wire for fun. Jerrod waited for Noah to finish a set of bench presses before approaching.
“Gotta sec?” he said.
Noah sat up and stretched. “A quick one, yeah.”
“Thanks. Two things. First, I should have time today to pull highlights from last Saturday’s match for your YouTube channel. But the bigger thing: have you seen the zoning sign at the bend just outside the trailer park?”
“No. What’s up?”
“Dunno. I tried calling on the way back from Nate’s Corner. Got city hall’s voicemail, so I’ll call back when they open.”
“I’ve not seen it or heard anything about it,” Noah said.
“Gotcha. Well, I need to open the office, so I’ll let you get back to your workout. I’ll catch up later about the next documentary meeting.”
“Cool deal. And let me know what you find out from the city.”
“Definitely.”
* * *
A tiny pile of envelopes full of checks and money orders greeted Jerrod on the other side of the mail slot in the office trailer’s front door. When the first day of the month fell on a Friday, it meant a longer-than-usual day, with most residents getting paid and rushing home to pay rent on their homes or land. He gathered the envelopes and placed them on his desk before popping the second Gansito pack into the freezer. After processing the first batch of payments on Mr. Pate’s old desktop computer, Jerrod pulled his laptop from his backpack.
While managing a trailer park was not Jerrod’s dream, it was a job that still allowed him time to focus on the life he imagined as a kid. In 1999, when Jerrod was 15, he decided he’d direct movies. When Steven Spielberg won the Oscar for Best Director and began his acceptance speech with, “Am I allowed to say I really wanted this?” something switched inside that teenager living in Lakeview Estates. Jerrod was raised to believe that wanting something more in life than what little you were given was akin to sin. It was greedy. It was a way of thinking reserved for people who thought they were better than others. For Jerrod’s parents, taking what you were given resulted in his father overdosing while Jerrod was still in high school, and his mother drinking herself to death shortly after graduation.
With Mr. Pate’s help, Jerrod enrolled in the closest thing to a degree in Radio/TV/Film in the area: a BA in Mass Communication from the University of Texas at Tyler, in Longview. The half hour drive from home was more affordable than packing everything up and heading almost five hours away to Austin. During his studies, Jerrod realized he was more suited to interview people and tell their stories than he was directing blockbusters—and for a kid from backwater East Texas, it was a more realistic pursuit. YouTube allowed him a way to distribute the short documentaries he made about people most wouldn’t give a second glance, and his latest project—a joint effort chronicling Noah’s attempts to make it as a professional wrestler—brought even more attention to his endeavors.
At 9:00 a.m., Jerrod took a break from cutting the best clips from Noah’s most recent match and called city hall.
* * *
Two weeks later, Jerrod and a handful of residents from Lakeview Estates attended their first city hall meeting to find out why the zoning sign was placed at the bend outside the trailer park. After Mayor Bradley Stevens called the meeting to order and his best friend and council member, Scotty Walsh, led the Pledge of Allegiance, it was on to business. The mayor’s wife—and Board Secretary, Carrie Stevens, called role and announcements. For Jerrod, it was more boring than sitting through classes that didn’t hold his interest when he was younger. The council seemed just as bored, only coming to attention when it was time to vote on previous business. Hands going up, followed by “Ayes,” seemed automatic.
Jerrod came to attention when the mayor said, “Will the secretary please read the first application before the board?”
Carrie Stevens adjusted her microphone. “There is one application before the board. West Industries, ZB23-D-03, 300 Pine Ridge Road, Block 1300 Lot 1.00. This applicant seeks a Use variance from section 154-43 to allow construction of Mallard Lake Public Golf Club.”
“Thank you,” the mayor said. “We open the floor to thirty minutes of comments of public interest. A reminder: each speaker is limited to three minutes.”
The eyes of Lakeview Estates were on Jerrod. He stood up, stepped to the microphone at the podium, and said, “Yeah, I’d like my time.”
Mayor Stevens smiled and said, “You don’t get to just stroll up there and babble, J.J.—”
“It’s Jerrod!” he said.
“As I was saying: you don’t get to just stroll up there, J.J. You have to sign up to speak.”
“Fine. Where do I do that?”
Carrie Stevens walked over and handed Jerrod a notebook and pen. She pointed to an empty ledger page where Jerrod gave his name, address, and phone number.”
When the mayor nodded, Jerrod began. “I have some questions.”
“We discussed that order of business in our last meeting,” the mayor said. “This is why I encourage everyone to attend these meetings regularly.”
“I don’t think you mean that, Itchy.”
“You’ll address me as Mayor Stevens, here.”
When Jerrod and the mayor were in Boy Scouts, on an overnight camping trip, Bradley Stevens and Scotty Walsh were setting up their tent in tall grass, away from others. Jerrod and Noah wandered over and told them it was a bad idea. A young Mayor Stevens told Jerrod to mind his own business. It wasn’t until a few days later, when Bradley’s legs were covered in chigger bites, that he realized Jerrod was trying to help. As he scratched his way through classes for days, he was given a nickname that followed him into adulthood.
“So, we don’t get to ask questions?” Jerrod said.
“You do. But that was an order of business in a previous meeting. You can go to the city website to view the minutes and watch the video.”
“So, something’s going on right in our backyard, and we don’t even get mail or anything?”
“We send mail to those within 500 feet of any proposed plan.”
“You know I’m gonna go home and grab a yardstick,” Jerrod said. “And if it’s off, I’m raising hell.”
“I’ll remind you to watch your language, J.J.”
“Yeah, well fuck you, Itchy!”
* * *
Noah Cooper walked behind Jerrod in the field behind the trailer park, making lines in a notepad each time Jerrod moved a yard stick one length closer to Mallard Lake. After Jerrod was escorted from city hall by Officer Perry McCollough, the resolution passed unanimously. Noah told Jerrod some residents in attendance even welcomed the measure, saying a golf course in their backyard was at least better than a shopping center.
“At least we’ll still have this view.”
Jerrod ignored him and continued moving the yard stick. He occasionally paused, checking the GPS map on his phone against the map of the new zoning area on the city hall website. He eventually stopped and said, “How many marks?”
Noah tallied the tick marks in the notepad and said, “one hundred seventy-two.”
Jerrod multiplied that by three on his phone’s calculator. “Five hundred sixteen feet. Damn…”
Noah gave his best friend a moment and then said, “Maybe it won’t be so bad.”
“It’ll be weird,” Jerrod said. “All these trees cut down—all this natural grass replaced by a green carpet full of rich assholes playing golf.”
“It’s still better than all the development in Holstein.”
“Yeah, but how long before we get like that? How long before the people who grew up here can’t afford to stay—and this entire area ends up like every place else?”
Jerrod continued walking until reaching the edge of Mallard Lake. He stared at the water, watching it shimmer in the gloaming. Noah stood by his side until the frogs called out and a huge moon rose over trees that would soon be gone.
* * *
In the weeks that followed, Jerrod grew to accept the place he retreated to for solitude would soon become a manicured space he wouldn’t legally be allowed on unless he took up golf and paid a green fee. He grudgingly admitted his friends were right: it was at least better than parking lots and stores, and the crowds that came with them. As nearby Holstein grew, Mayor “Itchy” Stevens seemed hellbent on showing Holsteiners that Tooksberrians had a better quality of life. One had to drive to Longview or Marshall to play golf, so a course in town would send the message that Tooksberry was superior to all neighboring towns.
Eventually, Jerrod’s schedule of running the office and maintenance at Lakeview Estates, working on the documentary with Noah, and recording Sunday services for the First United Methodist Church of Tooksberry returned to the center of his thoughts.
On the first cool afternoon in October, nothing was going to ruin Jerrod’s good mood: no more seemingly constant air conditioner maintenance and insect control, and no more sweltering days of landscaping and swimming pool upkeep. It was a slower, pleasant season with time to edit and plan while waiting for fewer things on the property to go wrong. After a productive morning and early afternoon, Jerrod checked mail. A letter from the City Attorney caught his attention. He opened it where he stood and scanned the page. The line that stopped him read:
NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVEN that the City Council of the City of Tooksberry will consider taking action by approval and passage of an ordinance that will authorize the City Attorney to commence eminent domain proceedings against the above-described subject property…
* * *
On Sunday mornings, most residents of Lakeview Estates made the walk up the hill on Creekview Drive to the First United Methodist Church of Tooksberry. Growing up, it was a refuge for Jerrod, a place to get away from strung-out parents and spend a morning in the company of friends and Reverend Lawrence Terry. The tiny church served as more than just a place of worship: it was a gathering place for kids after school and during summer break, a place for area seniors to gather, and for evening addiction programs Jerrod’s parents ignored. This day, the residents in attendance waited to hear why Jerrod gathered them there in such a hurry.
“Evening, everyone,” he said. “I suppose ya’ll are wondering why I called you here. The property received a letter from the city that has the potential to change all our lives in a big way. I called with Mr. Pate, and he said it’s okay if I share this with you.”
Jerrod read the letter.
In the front row, Ms. Rose fanned herself with her hand until Bonnie Kirkland pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse and took over. Several deep breaths later, and she was feeling better. People looked to each other as if to say, “Did I really hear what I think I just heard?”
Eventually, Carlos Espinosa said, “So, what’s this mean for all of us?”
“I don’t know,” Jerrod said, “but Mr. Pate’s meeting with his lawyer tomorrow. The only reason I pushed for telling y’all before hearing back about that is I know how word gets around in this town. You can bet I called the city right away on this one. They’re meeting next Tuesday to discuss this.”
* * *
Tooksberry City Hall was in a renovated Burrus grocery store. Most residents thought it was fitting that the City Council sat where the freezer section was once located—especially on an evening they were discussing such a cold decision. After the meeting was called to order and previous business was addressed, it was time to discuss seizing Lakeview Estates for expansion of the public golf course. The Council was visibly on edge; they had never seen a standing room only crowd. Worse: they had never seen so many people sign up to speak.
Each resident who spoke was met by Mayor Stevens assuring them, “We understand and sympathize with your concerns. This difficult decision is for the public good of all Tooksberry.”
After each speech, Carrie Stevens looked at the ledger, called the next resident’s name, and reminded the group how much time was left.
When Carlos Espinosa’s turn arrived, he asked how many more people were signed up to speak. Carrie counted and said, “Seven.”
“And there’s only twelve minutes left?”
“Yes,” she said.
“What happens to those who won’t have time?”
Carrie looked at her husband. Mayor Stevens said, “They can submit their concerns in writing. We will not extend the time we’ve allocated for this matter.”
“Can I see the list?” Carlos said.
Carrie turned the book around as Carlos approached. He looked at the list, realizing Jerrod was second to last.
“I’m giving up my time so Jerrod can speak.”
Each person who followed did the same.
When Jerrod stood up to take his turn speaking, Noah Cooper said, “Stay calm, Jaybird…”
Jerrod took a deep breath and began. “I know this is all a done deal. Mr. Pate’s lawyer said it would cost a lot to fight, and that we’d likely still lose if we did. After his push back, he said the city’s offer on the land is even fair. You have all of us over a barrel. I know we’re not gonna convince you to change your minds at this point, but I’ve enjoyed watching ya’ll squirm as each person spoke tonight. That means you know what you’re doing is wrong on a basic level.”
“Do you have a point to make?” Scotty Walsh said.
“Yeah. I don’t see how this is in the public good of Tooksberry when we make up a lot of the public in town. I know things change, but this is ridiculous. You want to bulldoze our homes and build a golf course and bigass houses, but what about us?”
“Language, J.J.—language…” Mayor Stevens said.
Jerrod didn’t give Itchy what he wanted. He took a deep breath to steady himself and continued. “Like I said: what about us? Where do we go? We can’t even afford an 800 square-foot house in the old part of town because they’re now going for three or four-hundred-thousand dollars. And even if Tooksberry had apartments, I’m sure a one-bedroom place would cost more than your mortgage each month ‘cause y’all got in when the getting was good. The rest of us work too hard and for too little to have your kind of luck. And say I did have money to buy a house…I put a big chunk down, and some rich asshole three states over or a multi-national conglomerate offers more than I have and turns it into a fuckin’ AirBnB—”
Mayor Stevens hammered the stand with his gavel and said, “I told you to watch your language…J.J.”
Jerrod closed his eyes to compose himself. When he opened them, he said, “Okay—fine. I’m sorry ‘bout that, y’all. Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah: and then, when we’re out in the streets, you’ll point at us and say, ‘Those losers should just get better jobs,’ totally ignoring the fact that a lot of us are working two or three jobs already and barely getting by. Then what, you arrest us for loitering and fine us into oblivion? After that put us in jail ‘cause we default on fines we can’t pay because you keep adding to them? All so a couple already-rich mother f— … rich people who don’t even live in the state can get richer? I don’t see how it’s good or in the public interest when much of the public ends up without homes.
“And what sickens me most about all this is then, on Sundays, you’ll all drive your fancy little cars over to Longview and bow your heads in your Jesus-Dome of a mega church and pretend to follow a savior you’re nothing like. Meanwhile, Reverend Terry is part of this community. Your guy just wants to be on TV—”
Mayor Stevens hammered his gavel repeatedly while shouting, “Order!”
Jerrod said, “I know you’re about to sic Perry on me again, so fuck it. I can see it in your face that there’s more to this, and I aim to find out what you’re really up to, Itchy! All of you!”
Officer McCollough approached the speaker’s podium. Jerrod put his hands up and said, “Don’t fuckin’ touch me, Perry—I’ll go, I’ll go.”
Before leaving the building with Officer McCollough at his side, Jerrod turned back to face the City Council and said, “I swear to God, Itchy—I’m gonna make you regret the night your momma and daddy flopped around in bed and made your dumb ass if there’s anything more to this…”
* * *
The resolution to seize Lakeview Estates passed unanimously. In the weeks that followed, Jerrod called Mr. Pate almost daily with new ideas about ways to fight the city. Each time, Mr. Pate said, “We both know how small towns work.”
On Jerrod’s final call, Mr. Pate said, “My lawyer’s looked things over in every way, Jerrod—and they have a solid case in the public interest, even though we both know that’s not right. But money talks, and a golf course bringing people in from all over is deemed better for Tooksberry than a trailer park. We’re lucky he was able to get a better deal on the land.”
“You’re lucky,” Jerrod said.
“No, we’re all lucky. I’m driving up on Friday. I wanna to tell everyone in person, so keep this just between us until then. There’s plenty of money for me to leave for to my daughter. I’m prepared to give each household $25,000 to help with moving…or whatever they want. Can you get everyone at the church at 6:00?”
* * *
The residents of Lakeview Estates gathered at the First United Methodist Church of Tooksberry on Friday evening. Jared, Reverend Terry, and Mr. Pate sat in front of the altar, while the rest of the crowd occupied the pews. The Flynn triplets sat beside Ms. Rose. From their teen years on, Ms. Rose was like a grandmother to the brothers. The best Jerrod could make of the relationship was once the brothers discovered weed, they went from terrorizing the trailer park to being three of the mellowest teenagers one would ever meet. While Ms. Rose never approved of their habits, she appreciated their company.
When the last of the stragglers were seated, Reverend Terry signaled to Mr. Pate. He rose and stepped to the pulpit.
“Thank y’all for coming out. I know this ain’t an easy time for any of us. First, I want everyone to know I did all I could to stop this seizure from happening. I don’t think it’s a city’s right to take property for any reason, but it especially hurts because this is all about money. My lawyer told me I’d be wasting what little retirement funding I have fighting this and would likely have nothing in the end. That’s why I took the deal.
“I want y’all to know that wasn’t easy. Y’all know me well enough to know I feel a bit guilty about this, even though it ain’t my fault. What I’m about to say isn’t said out of guilt, but because I’ve always cared about that little plot of land and all y’all. So, for now, until the order to vacate comes through, I’m not collecting any rent. And I’m giving $25,000 to each household to help with moving expenses.”
A buzz rose from the crowd as those in attendance verified with neighbors that they heard Mr. Pate correctly.
He continued. “I wish I could give everyone more or just swap Lakeview Estates for a new place, but there’s no time. What’s left will be enough for me, my daughter, and her family, but it’s not like I’m gonna be traveling the world in style or anything. I hope y’all understand.”
Heads nodded, and Carlos Espinosa said, “Thank you, Mr. Pate.” Ms. Rose fanned herself and told the Flynn triplets, “I have nowhere to go.”
One of them said, “You can come with us,” but she shook her head as she fought to catch her racing breath.
Another said, “Are you okay?”
Ms. Rose closed her eyes. “Just…not feeling quite right.”
The third of the brothers noticed her sweating and said, “We need to get her down,” but she was already on the floor.
* * *
Naomi Grace Rose took her final breath in the company of friends in the church she loved. By the time paramedics arrived, there was nothing anyone could do. Mr. Pate drove the distraught Flynn triplets to the hospital, figuring they were in no state to get behind the wheel, even if they weren’t stoned. The rest of the crowd slowly dispersed. Reverend Terry stood at the door letting each resident know he was there for them if they needed anything. When the last parishoner left, he turned to Jerrod, gave him a huge hug, and finally cried himself.
* * *
Jerrod awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of sirens. In his dazed state, he thought about Ms. Rose and the ambulance, wondering if someone else’s heart finally gave out under the stress of it all. The cacophony of emergency vehicles stayed on the far side of town, fading to nothing as Jerrod fell back to sleep.
* * *
The second time Jerrod was awakened by noise, it was to pounding on his front door. He pulled back the edge of his bedroom curtains and saw Itchy Stevens standing on his stoop, illuminated by the first light of morning. After pulling on an Iron Maiden Trooper t-shirt, he went to the living room and opened the door.
“Why the hell are you pounding on my door, Itchy?!”
“You know why, J.J.”
“No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”
“Don’t give me that shit! You fuckin’ know!” Jerrod had seen Itchy angry, but never in a slobbering rage.
“It’s too early for this,” Jerrod said. When he started closing the storm door, Itchy forced it back open.
“Get your ass out here, J.J.”
In high school, Itchy Stevens started calling Jerrod J.J. when word got out that meth had a grip on his parents. The two Js stood for “Junkie Jerrod,” and were often followed by taunts about his parents—and how he was destined to follow in their footsteps. Jerrod knew even then if he ignored it that others would eventually stop taunting him, but teenagers aren’t known for a Zen-like ability to let things go. As an adult, Jerrod was able to let it go, but as he stared at the person he suspected was somehow responsible for displacing an entire community, remaining calm took more discipline than usual.
“Call me J.J. one more time, motherfucker.”
Itchy grinned and stretched it out: “Jaaaaay Jaaaaay.”
Jerrod made a fist and slowly brought his arm back; then, he took a deep breath and let it go, shaking out his hand before stepping back to close the front door. It crashed into him as Itchy shoved his way inside and took a swing at him.
Jerrod grew up wrestling with Noah, and as adults, often let his best friend practice new moves on him. While not as formidable as Noah, along the way, Jerrod learned how to hold his own and defend himself. He used Itchy’s momentum against him and took him to the ground, tying up his arms in the process. It would have been easy to take out decades of hatred on Itchy’s exposed face, but instead, Jerrod said, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“You burned my fuckin’ house down!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I know you did it!” Itchy said while trying to break Jerrod’s hold.
“Look,” Jerrod said. “I hate your dumb ass, and I would love to see you suffer for being a lifelong piece of shit, but I wouldn’t do something like that. Not even you deserve that, and Carrie sure the hell doesn’t. I’m gonna let you up. Before I do, I want you to remember: you forced your way into my house. I can legally stand my ground and kill you, but I don’t want that for you, either. We good?”
“We’re good,” Itchy said.
“All right.” Jerrod released his grip and offered Itchy his hand when he stood up. Itchy ignored it and stood on his own.
As he left Jerrod’s trailer he said, “If I find out it was you, you’re dead.”
* * *
In the month that followed, Lakeview Estates slowly emptied. Bonnie Kirkland moved to Shreveport to live with her daughter, and Carlos Espinosa moved to Ennis to be closer to the Texas Motorplex. Other people Jerrod knew from his very first memories packed their lives into U-Hauls to move away—some near, some far. Some used the $25,000 from Mr. Pate to pursue dreams, while others planned to hold on to it for as long as possible.
The Flynns were packing their trailer the day before Thanksgiving when Officer McCollough pulled up with the sheriff and a couple deputies. Jerrod couldn’t make out what was being said, but in the end, all three were handcuffed without a struggle, placed in the backs of police cars, and driven off. The next day, Jerrod got a call on the office phone that he needed to be present when the county came to seize the Flynns’ possessions. When he asked what was happening, he was told they weren’t at liberty to say. Jerrod grabbed a couple tripods, set up two cameras and a microphone, and then sat down beneath his favorite tree to watch.
When Noah wandered over, Jerrod brought his index finger to his lips, signaling to be quiet. He sat up, and quietly made his way to the far side of the office trailer.
“What’s going on?” Noah said.
“I don’t know—they won’t tell me. But they either finally busted the triplets for weed, or it has something to do with Itchy’s house, I’m guessing.”
“What’s with the cameras?”
“It hit me when they wouldn’t tell me what’s up: I should have been recording a lot more these past couple months. Documenting all this.”
“For what?” Noah said.
“Just to have. Proof, I guess. To let them know we’re watching.”
When the movers contracted by the country had unloaded the U-Haul the Flynn’s started filling, as well as their trailer, Jerrod grabbed one of his cameras and walked over.
“Get that thing out of my face,” Officer McCollough said.
“I can legally film this. I’m not interfering with law enforcement doing their job, and until the end of the month, I’m still the voice of the property owner—so I’m not trespassing. Can you at least tell me what’s going on? Please?”
Officer Perry McCollough smiled and said, “You’re right. You can film this. And it’s my right to not say another word.”
“Thank you, Perry.”
“For what?”
“Showing the world just how corrupt this city is…”
* * *
Jerrod and Noah were the last to leave Lakeview Estates after selling their trailers. They combined the money with the payout from Mr. Pate and bought a house in downtown Tooksberry.
When Noah said, “We should just get the hell out of here,” Jerrod told him, “Fuck that—this is where we grew up. They want us to leave, and I’ll be damned if Itchy gets that as well.”
“There’s more to life than just spiting him, Jaybird.”
“I know,” Jerrod said. “This isn’t just to spite him, though. It’s to keep an eye on him, ‘cause I think this is all crooked. But mostly—this is home, and I don’t want to leave. Do you?”
“Nah.”
“There we go, then.”
The two used their new space more as a base of operations than a home. When Jerrod wasn’t documenting the stories of locals and creating online ad campaigns for small businesses in the area, he was working on Noah’s wrestling documentary. And when he wasn’t working on that, he was digging through public records and doing all he could to see if his hunch that Itchy was up to something more was right. He pulled footage from the city council meetings he attended from the city website and began compiling all the footage he’d shot over the years around Lakeview Estates, all the way back to the day Mr. Pate gave him a Sony Handycam for the work he did around the property. He watched hours of interviews he’d conducted with residents from the trailer park, marking highlights, hoping to find the story of the community within it all.
If nothing else, long after the spot of land where he grew up was forgotten, people would come to know his home through the documentary he decided to make about the place where he was raised.
* * *
Jerrod and Noah made a point to attend every city council meeting, which clearly bothered Itchy and Scotty. Sometimes Jerrod signed up to speak about city business, while other times he used his three minutes to make a tenuous connection between a zoning change or other proposal to talk about how his home was taken from him by the city. One evening, Itchy had enough.
“If I may, J.J., you at least have a home. Our home was burned down by your three friends.” He looked at Carrie and then back at Jerrod. “So, you’ll have to forgive me for tiring of this near-weekly performance of yours.”
Marshall Flynn was convicted of arson and sentenced to twenty-five years for burning down Itchy’s home in retaliation for Ms. Rose’s death, believing the heart attack that took her was caused by the stress of a forced move Itchy somehow had a hand in. The other two triplets—Marlon and Marcus—had alibis, but ended up sentenced to five years each for their roles in the arson. Their plan? If Marshall were caught, they believed they could win on a technicality because they all looked alike and wouldn’t be able to say which one did it. They were surprised to find out it wasn’t that easy.
“It’s not a performance,” Jerrod said. “Both of us had our homes taken against our will. But only one of us seems to care about the other’s situation.”
* * *
Jerrod was shooting twilight hour footage on Main Street when he heard someone call his name. When he turned around, Carrie Stevens approached.
“Where’s Itchy?” he said.
Carrie shook her head.
“Sorry. Brad.”
She smiled. “Just between us, I do think the nickname y’all gave him back when is funny. But no woman wants to be married to someone named Itchy. It’s Wednesday. Wednesday nights, he goes to church.”
“You don’t?”
“Nope, it’s my night off. I go to that place once a week, and that’s plenty. It’s more like a concert than a church service.”
“Seems that way,” Jerrod said. “You can always come back to our church. Reverend Terry’s still the same great guy he’s always been.”
“I know. But it’s important to Brad that we attend as a couple.”
“Gotcha.” Jerrod ran his fingers through his hair.
“Why do you put up with him?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m sorry,” Jerrod said. “I shouldn’t have said that—it’s none of my business. It’s just…you’ve always been so nice. To everyone. I guess I always thought you’d go off to college and never look back at this place.”
Carrie Stevens looked down Main Street, a place stuck in time. It was the same street her parents and grandparents knew. More family before that.
“I thought about it,” she said, “but what was I gonna do? Y’all have a lot going for you. I really didn’t. Everything I was was gone the day after I graduated high school. No one cared who I was in college. Nothing I did, here, mattered out there. I mean, what did I really do? I was head cheerleader—that’s about it. Following Brad to Austin and back is as good as it gets for me.
“After the fire, I did try convincing him to move. Just start a new life someplace else. But he’d rather be a big fish in a small pond than challenge himself.”
“Like I said, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay.”
They each lingered an awkward moment before Jerrod said, “Well, I’ll let you get going. Good seeing you, Carrie.”
“You, too.”
Jerrod was half a block away when Carrie called his name. He turned back.
“I want you to know,” she said, “that taking your homes was wrong. I almost left him over that one…”
* * *
Jerrod sat with Noah in his best friend’s Nissan Versa, camera in hand, waiting for Itchy to leave his temporary home on Scotty’s property. The two joked that they should have been private detectives as adept at following and recording the mayor they’d become in a matter of months. For someone who droned on in city council meetings about how much better Tooksberry was than Holstein, Itchy sure did a lot of shopping and eating in his rival town.
The plan this time was to tail him to Longview and get footage of him walking into Waypointe Church, showing how far he was willing to drive to avoid churches in his hometown. Jerrod decided, if he couldn’t discover the mayor’s plan with the golf course, he’d at least have plenty of negative footage come election season.
Following Itchy on back roads was easy; all it took was riding far enough back that even if he looked in his rearview mirror, he’d not know it was Jerrod and Noah behind him. As they got closer to Longview, Noah closed the distance, hoping the mayor of Tooksberry’s attention would be more on traffic in front of him than behind. When he drove past Waypointe Church, the two thought Itchy was on to them. When he pulled into the Longview Executive Inn and Suites, Jerrod told Noah to keep driving, figuring they’d been spotted.
“Pull onto this side street,” Jerrod said.
Noah took a right and pulled over in the grass. Jerrod craned his neck, waiting for Itchy to pull out and go the opposite direction. After waiting several minutes, Jerrod told Noah he’d be right back.
He ran to the far side of the hotel and peered over a fence. Itchy’s Mercedes was parked in front of a row of rooms. Jerrod raced back to the car to grab his camera gear.
“What’s up?” Noah said.
“He’s there! I’m gonna set up a camera on the rooms.”
“What about me? I can’t just sit here.”
“I don’t know. Go find a place and give me a call when you do.”
Jerrod was already running back to the hotel when Noah shook his head and put the car in gear.
* * *
Jerrod was hiding in the bushes of the neighboring Lone Star Hotel when Noah called and asked how long he’d be.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I have a camera set up and I’m monitoring it through my phone’s app.”
“Do I have time to get a pizza?”
“What?”
“I’m parked in the back corner of the Pizza Hut parking lot. I figured I’d get a pizza if we’re gonna be sitting a while.”
“Yeah…I mean, if you want to.”
“Cool…”
* * *
The sun was setting as Noah walked along the sidewalk, carrying a large meat lover’s pizza. He stopped between the two hotels and whistled. From a cluster of bushes, Jerrod returned the call they’d used since childhood. Noah surveyed the area and headed in.
After taking a seat beside Jerrod in the bushes, Noah said, “Got you extra red pepper packets, Jaybird.”
“Thanks.”
He opened the box, and grabbed a slice. Jerrod claimed his half of the pizza with a deluge of red pepper flakes and did the same. After devouring his first piece, Noah pointed to the phone on the ground in front of his friend and said, “Anything good yet?”
Jerrod pointed to a door on the camera app monitor and said, “They’re in that room.”
“Who’s they?”
“Dunno. Some woman parked around the back, went up, and then knocked. Itchy let her in.”
“Where’s the camera?”
“I mounted it on that fence. The trees hide it pretty good. Now, we just wait to see what it sees.”
* * *
When the pizza was wiped out, Noah said, “This is fun.”
“What is?”
“Sitting in the bushes with you. It’s like being little kids again…making forts and knowing all the good places to hide around town.”
“Yeah,” Jerrod said. “I feel for kids growing up in Tooksberry today. We were lucky to come up right before everything changed. I think we’re doing all right for a couple fuck-ups from a trailer park in Ass-Crack, Texas. I might not be directing movies, and you’re not a wrestling superstar yet, but at least we’ve stayed true to who we are.”
“Hell yeah,” Noah said. “And shit, there’s still time for those bigger dreams.”
Jerrod nodded. “Always is if you keep at ‘em! And even if they never come, we’ve still had fun along the way.”
* * *
Jerrod was considering turning off his phone to save the battery when the door to Itchy’s hotel room opened. He looked around and stepped out, followed by a woman who was definitely not Carrie Stevens. They embraced in a kiss. Itchy ran his hand over her body, ending on her butt, which he patted as they parted ways. After Itchy and the woman left, Jerrod retrieved the camera and headed home. There, after transferring the camera footage to his computer, he zoomed in on the woman on his system’s monitor.
“Holy shit,” Noah said.
“What?”
“That looks like Kristin Martin.”
“Who’s that?”
“The wife of the pastor at Waypointe Church.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Jerrod said.
“I know one of the A/V guys, there. He shot some footage when we thought the wrestling promotion might get a local TV deal. He invited a bunch of us to the church to look at their gear setups. She saw a bunch of wrestlers and sure seemed interested in us…if you know what I mean?”
* * *
Even before he began piecing together a documentary about the seizure and destruction of Lakeview Estates—and the effect it had on residents—Jerrod began his most ambitious video project to date: a timelapse beginning the day the trailer park was demolished that would be complete the day Mallard Lake Public Golf Club opened. Reverend Terry allowed him to set up a camera in the church. The safe location directly across the street from the construction site let Jerrod take a photo every 30 minutes that would later become footage he planned to use in his documentary, showing the passage of time between sections. Once a week, Jerrod stopped by the church to download images from the camera and to chat with Reverend Terry.
“Something’s bothering you.”
Decades of guidance and later, friendship, gave Reverend Terry an uncanny ability to seemingly know when something was knocking around inside Jerrod’s head.
“Yeah. Noah and I followed Itchy into Longview a couple days ago. We just wanted to get some footage of him walking into that huge church, but we ended up catching him meeting with someone in a hotel.”
Reverend Terry raised his eyebrows, but let Jerrod continue.
“Noah said it’s the wife of the pastor at Waypointe. It’s great for the documentary and could maybe even help this town get a new mayor if we leaked it during election season.”
“But…?” Reverend Terry said.
“But…I don’t want to do that to Carrie. We were never really hang-out friends in high school, but she was always nice to everyone—even me. Everyone at the trailer park. No idea why she ended up marrying Itchy, but still…Noah and I don’t want to see her hurt.”
“That’s very kind of you two,” Reverend Terry said. “One question, though: if you were married and your wife was cheating on you, would you want to know?”
“Yeah.”
“Then there’s your answer.”
“I don’t want her to think we’re doing all this out of revenge.”
“I think even Itchy knows you’re a good person. I’ve counseled enough people through breakups over the years. Some people seek counseling and stay together after something like this—others leave an old life behind and find a new way to live. But in every case, people deserve the right to decide how they want to handle things.”
* * *
The following Wednesday evening, Jerrod sat with Noah in his car, waiting for Itchy to leave. This time, they didn’t follow him—they waited for his car to disappear down Oak Street and then waited five more minutes before walking up and knocking on the front door of the guest house on the back of Scotty’s property.
Carrie answered, dressed for her evening alone on Main Street.
“Hey, y’all. Is everything okay?” she said.
Jerrod nodded. “Yeah. Do you have a minute?”
“For what?”
Jerrod held up an iPad and said, “We have something to show you…”
Carrie invited them into the living room. Noah took a seat in an oversized chair that was the perfect size for him, while Jerrod and Carrie sat on the couch. Jerrod placed the iPad on the coffee table in front of her.
“Before I show you what’s on here, I want you to know we won’t do anything with it unless you want us to.”
“What’s going on?”
Jerrod played the video.
“Who is that?” Carrie said when Kristin Martin got out of her car.
Jarrod advanced the video to Itchy and Kristin leaving the hotel room. He paused it to magnify the frame.
Carrie stared at the screen and said, “That fucking piece of shit…”
Her hand trembled as she pointed at her husband and his mistress. Jerrod waited for tears that never came.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “This wasn’t easy to show you. I asked Reverend Terry if I even should, and he said you had a right to know.”
A full minute later, Carrie said, “He’s right: I do. What do y’all plan to do with this?”
“Whatever you want,” Jerrod said.
“What do you want to do with it?”
“Use it for the documentary somehow. But we weren’t gonna do another thing without telling you about this first.”
Carrie steadied herself with several deep breaths and then said, “You want something good for your documentary? Go get your cameras. I’m already dressed, and I have a lot to say…”
* * *
In the time it took for Noah to race home and pick up gear for an interview, Carrie drank a glass of wine. By the time Jerrod and Noah set up two cameras, microphones, and lighting, she finished another. She was loosened up when they were ready to begin.
“So, how’s this all work?” she said. “Are you asking me questions, or what?”
“I can,” Jerrod said, “but it’s usually best to just let someone talk. Don’t worry if your thoughts wander or you have to stop to think about something. We can cut out all that later. Ready?”
“Yeah,” she said.
When Jerrod gave Carrie the signal, she began talking.
“My husband, Bradley Stevens, and Scotty Walsh have been best friends since childhood. They played football together and attended college together. They were in the same fraternity at UT Austin: Sigma Chi’s Alpha Nu chapter. They have a fraternity brother named Matt Chappell. He’s a homebuilder today. They have another frat brother named Kirby West, the person building the golf course in town.
“I can only tell you what I’ve picked up from them talking, here and there, but Bradley and Scotty made sure to steer the city council to accepting Kirby West’s proposal for the golf course, even though he’s never made one. He’s a landscape designer. A good one, but still. He wanted a shot at a golf course, and they gave it to him.
“There’s no reason anyone would dig into their pasts to find out it was a sweetheart deal for all of them: Kirby getting to design a new course, and Bradley getting to feel like he one-upped Holstein as the better town. I think he’s never forgiven them for knocking us out of the regional playoffs in 2000. Itchy still says it was a bad snap and not his fault that he fumbled.
“The next phase of the plan is a golf community full of big houses. They’re waiting until things are further along, and then Bradley and Scotty will steer the city council toward giving that deal to Matt Chappell. The worst thing about all this is kicking y’all out of your homes. They sold it as being for the greater public interest of Tooksberry because they can’t legally profit from it. Of course, that’s not stopping them from making money.
“This is where it gets a bit hazy for me, but there’s a fake company set up in an offshore account. They have an ‘employee’ who doesn’t really exist move funds through a fake invoice scheme to another account in the states. Bradley and Scotty have access to that one—they set it up so the payments look like consulting fees for work they don’t even do. We’re also getting a new house on the golf course for a steal through one of those accounts, somehow. It’s all a bunch of friends doing favors for each other and making money along the way.
“I’m talking about this now because I’m done. I’ve put up with a lot of shit…sorry, I’ve put up with a lot of stuff from my husband over the years, but this crosses the line. When everything they’re doing is done, I’m reporting it. I want to give them enough rope to hang themselves. It’s bad enough they cut other companies out of being considered for proposals, but there’s no excusing tearing down your homes for a crooked deal. I’ll never forgive what the Flynn’s did to our house—I’m fine if they rot in prison the rest of their lives—but none of that would have happened without Bradley and his friends and this plan.
“When this is done, I want them to hurt more than all of us put together.”
* * *
Four months later, just as Carrie claimed, the Tooksberry City Council unanimously approved a zoning change for a golf community, with Matt Chappell getting the contract to build the new homes. After that, life in town returned to its slow normal pace. Some Wednesday nights, Jerrod met up with Carrie for dinner on Main Street, to keep up with Itchy’s plans, but also to talk about whatever was on their minds. While he never cared for most of the people in Tooksberry High School, he found himself fascinated by the stories of the people who left town that Carrie was still in touch with. When he’d done all he could do with the Lakeview Estates documentary, he shifted attention to Noah’s. And when that slowed down, he contacted former residents of the trailer park for more stories and footage. His online marketing company was doing well enough that he considered petitioning for a zoning change of his own on the house he shared with Noah, making it an official place of business clients could visit, but he knew it wouldn’t pass the council’s vote.
Months became seasons—time seemed to expand and contract at once, making life a blur. Some days, Jerrod was amazed by how much he’d completed on projects, while other days passed by too fast, with no time to finish a thing. With each visit to Reverend Terry at the church, the progress around Mallard Lake Public Golf Course surprised him. Every time it seemed they were nearing completion, something new would spring up as he worked on his master timelapse.
Three months shy of the golf course’s completion, Carrie finally called the county and had her say.
* * *
The arrest of Itchy and his fellow conspirators was not the exciting thing Jarrod imagined. There were no FBI agents working in unison with the IRS, storming homes and taking them in against their will. Rather, there was a knock on the door and Itchy willingly going along with law enforcement. He was booked and released on bail to wait for a trial date. The only footage Jerrod shot was Itchy leaving Scotty’s guest house in handcuffs and placed into a cruiser.
The shame of being arrested and on the news didn’t deter Itchy and Scotty from acting like they’d done nothing wrong; in fact, when addressing the city council, they positioned themselves as victims in the whole affair, all for trying to better the town. Jerrod tried provoking the two at city council meetings, walking a fine line of accusations and not being escorted out by Officer McCollough. It wasn’t until Jerrod and Noah bumped into Itchy on Main Street that he pushed the mayor to the point of breaking.
“Itchy,” he said, “Got a sec? I’d love to get your side of this story. Nothing big: just about the upcoming trial and your divorce.”
“Fuck you! Get that camera out of my face, J.J.”
“We just want to hear your side of things. If there’s nothing to hide, it seems like you’d be more than happy to talk.”
Itchy ignored him and continued walking.
“I’d really love to show you all the footage I have. Especially your Wednesday night visits to the Church of the Longview Executive Inn and Suites.”
Itchy turned and charged. Noah restrained him before he got hold of Jerrod, who put his camera in the mayor’s face right as he said, “I’ll fuckin’ kill you, J.J.!”
Jerrod smiled and said, “I’m guessing that threatening a potential witness at your trial won’t sit too well with your bail bondsman or the court. But feel free to keep talking. Unlike you, I’ve got nothing but time.”
* * *
Jerrod and Noah helped Carrie pack what belongings she’d accumulated since the fire into a ten-foot U-Haul moving truck. It was a seven-hour drive south to Corpus Christi, where an old high school friend offered to help her through the final stages of the divorce by providing a place to stay and a job in her consignment shop, giving Carrie time to figure out the rest of her life.
Carrie climbed into the truck and rolled down the window. “Thanks so much, y’all.”
“For what?” Jerrod said.
“Doing the right thing. I don’t know how I could have done this all without you.”
“Well, thanks for always being nice to us when no one else was,” Jerrod said. “I know this isn’t how any of us wanted things to work out, but it’ll all be good. I really believe that.”
Carrie smiled. “I do, too.” She started the truck and said, “This isn’t goodbye for good. Y’all better stay in touch. And when that documentary’s done and it makes it into festivals, because it will—you damn well better invite me. I’ll be there.”
“Thanks,” Jerrod said. “Be careful heading down south.”
“I will.”
Jerrod raised his camera and filmed Carrie driving down the street. When she disappeared from view, he panned over and up, capturing what would become the final scene of his documentary: a shot of the Tooksberry water tower glowing in the fading spring light.
* * *
Mallard Lake Public Golf Course opened to local fanfare on a perfect day in May. Only two residents of the new Lakeview Estates development—Mayor Stevens and Scotty Walsh—knew it was once a trailer park.
Bradley “Itchy” Stevens, Scotty Walsh, Matt Chappell, and Kirby West were ordered to pay $200,000 to each former mobile home owner or lessee displaced by their scheme. In addition to the millions owed in restitution, each served a six-month prison term, followed by twelve months of home incarceration. In the end, all four still profited on their scheme.
Carrie Stevens assumed her maiden name—Carrie Galloway—and opened a snow-cone stand called Carrie’s Cones north of Isla Blanca Beach in Corpus Christi. She discovered she was far more suited for condo life on the Gulf than small-town life in East Texas.
Bonnie Kirkland not only made it on The Price is Right, but she won the Showcase Showdown. In her bedroom, she still watches the evening news on the TV her mother won when Bonnie was a kid.
Carlos Espinosa used his restitution funds to build a car that took third place in the Street Car Takeover at Texas Motorplex. He’s a long way from facing Sean Bellemeur or Doug Gordon in a big race, but he vows that one day, they will know his name.
The Flynn triplets turned out to be model prisoners. Marlon and Marcus served one and a half years before making parole, and Marshall will be out in plenty of time to catch up on life. Once a month, they make sure a dozen roses are placed on Ms. Rose’s grave.
The documentary about Noah Cooper, combined with his strong work ethic and solid social media presence, brought some much-wanted attention his way. He said goodbye to the Pineywoods Wrestling Alliance after finally getting a break with Ring of Honor wrestling in Florida.
Jerrod’s timing in releasing the footage of Itchy and Kristin Martin’s hotel meeting to the media couldn’t have been more ideal. With the negative publicity, Itchy was finally toppled as mayor, and The Lakeview Estates documentary premiered at Sundance Film Festival. Jerrod invited Carrie as promised, but she couldn’t make it to a showing until it played at South by Southwest in Austin. Other festivals followed, until the January morning Jerrod watched the live stream of the 96th Oscar Nominations. He almost vomited when he was chosen as one of five documentaries in the Documentary Short Film category.
It may not have been the Academy Award for Best Picture he dreamed about as a teenager, but to this day he’s the only person to ever accept an Oscar in an Iron Maiden t-shirt.
[Quirky music fades in…]
Christopher Gronlund:
Thank you for listening to Not About Lumberjacks.
Theme music, as always, is by Ergo Phizmiz. Story music was by Roy Edwin Williams, licensed through Epidemic Sound.
Sound effects are made in-house or from Epidemic Sound and freesound.org. Visit nolumberjacks.com for information about the show, the voice talent, and the music. Also, for as little as a dollar a month, you can support the show at patreon.com/cgronlund.
Next time, it’s not only the November anniversary episode, but the 50th story episode of the show! So, what’s in store for the most NOT Not About Lumberjacks story of the year? How about this:
A lone lumberjack finds herself alone on the side of a mountain with whomever—or whatever—killed her fellow loggers.
[Quirky music fades out…]
[The sound of an axe chopping.]
Until next time: be mighty, and keep your axes sharp!
