Twitty Road

There was no reason to suspect that the sweet elderly couple living in a tiny trailer park on Twitty Road were seasoned Russian spies implanted in the dead center of Florida. But there they lived for the past ten years. They paid their lot rent at the trailer park, aptly named South Park. The adult cartoon show, South Park, offered a weekly blistering social satire of this country. It was the only show of interest to Marvin and Mary. 

The cookouts and happy hours were dreaded. Everyone shared a similar fate here. This place, well watered and well groomed, stood as an oasis in the heat and desolation of Florida. South Park was the last stop for the residents.  Marvin and Mary joined the frequent cookouts and drinking parties. They could often be seen walking hand in hand down the dingy street at sunset. The clouds usually put on  a pretty good show as they began to glow pink and purple with the setting sun. It was the only thing they really did enjoy in this, pardon the pun, God forsaken place. 

As Marvin and Mary entered the Dollar General store a half mile from their trailer park, they were greeted by Sam. He leaned forward as he heard the bell chime when they entered. They had come to detest Sam. He was fat, lazy, and void of any hint of curiosity in the world. The only apparent interests in his life were sports, smoking, coffee and bourbon. His car, parked at the end of the lot out front shared his limited life. Bumper stickers and decals were barely visible with the dirt. On the counter sat a small TV blaring a basketball game. An ashtray overflowed with used butts. There were no smoking rules here. 

“What’s up folks?” shouted Sam to his regular weekly customers. He knew Marvin and Mary by name of course. They did the short walk from South Park every Saturday. He was not surprised that Mary headed for the Easter display. She will be mailing some cards and candy to her two grandchildren. Marvin will be checking out the tools. He knew a lot about electronic things and he liked to do his own home and car repairs. Marvin often offered car maintenance suggestions for Sam but these were politely ignored. 

Marvin and Mary would usually meet in the household goods aisle. They would generally get a roll of paper towels and a box of zip bags, along with bread, crackers and a box of cereal. All of this for a buck. The couple shook their heads slightly at the sight of dozens of snack foods. They forced themselves to buy a bag or box of some disgusting thing which should not be called food. They would throw it in the trash later. 

The scenery on Twitty Road was grim especially in the Dry Season. There were scattered worn out orange trees well into menopause. The fruit was limited and discolored- nothing like the perfect oranges found in supermarkets. The shrubs and grasses were all pale and half dead. They knew it was even worse just south of here. There were thousands of acres of sugarcane stretching out as far as the eye can see in all directions on the perfectly flat terrain. Workers were the modern slaves. 

The only remarkable point of interest on Twitty Road was a 100 foot cell tower across the street from the trailer park. Marvin looked it over on each walk as if he was counting the steps on the attached ladder. Otherwise, they had little to look at. The fields were pale, half dead, with scattered plants and weeds struggling to survive the Dry Season. 

This would be their last visit to the Dollar General. Last Saturday Marvin and Mary  had received the launch codes. The moles were loyal workers embedded deep into the defense department. They were loyal to themselves and a lucrative payoff. Information was passed to another agent in their neighborhood. Then the agent delivered the information in the weekly Saturday morning drop at the Dollar General. These carriers fit in perfectly with the local crowd in their dress, pickup trucks, smoking, beer and gun loving bumper stickers, etc. 

Marvin smiled at the irony. The launch codes were placed last week inside a toy B-52 bomber in the cheap toy department. Marvin knew this last message would be their extraction instructions and their new assignment.  Marvin and Mary chuckled as they browsed through the Easter cards. Mary had pulled out a card with a chubby baby wearing bunny ears. The child’s face was covered with chocolate as he sat cross legged in front of a basket with candy wrappers all about. Marvin and Mary shared a telepathic thought, “How appropriate for these hedonistic, self-indulgent capitalists”.

Marvin walked out of the store with their usual supplies. As he approached the lot beside the store he bent over and picked a wild flower for Mary. After she embraced him, he smiled at her and held her hand. She withdrew the small plastic package, the size of a stick of gum from his hand, smoothly, without a glance. He had picked it up in the weeds as he bent over to pick the flower. They walked away smiling, with their extraction orders. Everything was going as planned.

Suddenly, three black SUVs whipped into the parking lot. Instinctively, the couple rushed back towards the front door of the store. As they reached the door Marvin reached into his waistband to withdraw a Glock. Marvin was greeted by Sam, pointing an automatic pistol, held at arms’ length. As they knelt in the parking lot, handcuffed, Sam peeled away his face and removed a fat padding from his belly. He was quite rugged looking and very much alert and ready. Sam slowly peeled away the fake grey hair and aging masks to reveal the Russians in their true form. “Welcome to America” he said warmly.   

Down the street, a grey maintenance van pulled up to the tower. Several residents of South Park watched silently. Two men scampered up the tower, taking some type of box off a metal post. It was placed in a canvas bag. They quickly descended. The two men got into the van and they drove off. Marvin and Mary will not be at the Happy Hour tonight.