This is the Downton Abbey of Trailer Parks

April 20, 2012

Our Family Crest

I’m telling you, Mr. Reporter, we’ve got a regular Downton Abbey, honest to Oprah, class system in this here mobile home community.  Maybe not to the uneducated (or should I say educated?) eye, but there is a whole system of haves and havenots that makes this place downright soapish.

Take Mr. Timmerson.  That is not a Greco Mobile Family Sustainable A4 unit.  That is a top of the line foreign masterpiece of Japanese white trash engineering.  If I took you inside his domicile, you would say to me, “Irma, why can’t I hear the wind and/or car repair anymore?” Well, Mr. Timmerson would explain to you the nuances and futurisms of his Komachi Live Forever Home.  The walls are packed with dolphin blubber.  Yeah, that’s right. Real dolphin. Flipper filling.  Only legal in Japan.  That trailer is Q-U-I-T-E. It’s like living inside a Samurai’s heart.

And then just around the bend, you have the Less Desirables.  They’re classless, fed dollar sucking, ne’er-do-betters. Look at Amy Jo Lucy.  She lives alone. (This week.) It’s a simple existence. She’s almost like one of those servants in Downton Abbey.  She’s in awe of high rollers like Mr. Timmerson.  All day, nothing to do but wheelchair herself from her Waco Mini Mobile to her usual haunts. The post office.  The Five and Dime.  The abandoned playground. The Subway sandwich knockoff Stubway that Evelyn Jeterson started after she had that falling out with the franchise and that I know everyone swears tastes just like Subway but I can tell.  Those aren’t real sandwich artists in there.  They didn’t go to sandwich art school.

See what I mean?  We just gab and gab like that show.  So much drama.  You want backbiting? Old Lady Johnson down at 44 Easy St. has got the dirt on everyone.  I used to wonder how.  But then I caught her going through people’s garbage. Learning their secrets. Peeping out doctors’ bills and credit card statements. And listen, Honest Engineer, I’m trash, but I’m not that shade of trash.

But here’s the latest gossip.  Some doctor/lawyer who lost a bunch in the housing looking to buy our trailer park with his remaining assets.  Now doesn’t that seem like the first season of Downton? (Which I try to explain to Tamantha is the way Britlanders say ‘downtown’. Their accent is sexy. It’s like they’re chewing on lingerie.)  Where was I? Oh yeah. Rich Man. He’s telling Mr. Dubai that trailer parks are the next boom business.  As the rich get richer and the poor getting dumber.  It’s gonna be like serf city in this country.

Where do I fall?  Isn’t it obvious by my fashion sandals and the french manicured toenails that stick out from thereof?  I’m the lady of the house. I’m the queen mother of this cul de sac.  I should sue that show.  They probably stole it out from under us.  Too bad you can’t sue other countries. That’s in our Constitution.



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