RE: Trailer Trash

RE: Trailer Trash - 64, They don't stop coming.

Fri, 25 Sep 2026 14:10:49 GMT

“Well—how do you feel?!” Mrs. Macintire asked as the Acura pulled away from the parking lot and left Springton General Hospital behind. “Excited?”

“Unbothered!” Tabitha answered with a sigh of contentment. “Moisturized. Happy. In my lane. Focused. Flourishing.”

“Oh, all that, huh?” Mrs. Macintire said with a chuckle. “Sounds good, sounds good. And, your hand’s doin’ okay? You’re holding it all weird.”

“It’s okay,” Tabitha reported. “Just need to get used to things again.”

She glanced down at where she was cradling that arm tucked in up against herself. With her slightly thin and pale wrist held still just beneath her chin, it gave her the posture of someone who was taken aback—it looked like she was caught in a surprised gasp or clutching at their pearls. Although that wasn’t the case, Tabitha still felt weirdly protective of the hand now that it didn’t have the rigid shell of a cast protecting it from the cruel savagery of the late nineties world.

“Hm, if you say so!” Sandra quirked her lip. “So. McDonald’s? As your treat for being so good through your hospital visits? It’s just gettin’ around to lunchtime at school, I’d bet, and that’s usually what we do. I remember Hannah just loved showing up with a Happy Meal box when she came back to school from a half-day. Make all the other little girls green with envy.”

“Hah, no that’s okay, really,” Tabitha shook her head. “I’m not Hannah! I was never too into McDonalds, and I don’t really have lunch. I just—”

“Ohhh, I see,” Mrs. Macintire gave her a knowing smile. “Yeah, that makes sense. That Bobby boy will still be at school this time, so obviously—”

“—I just, well yes, actually, I do want to see him, but not even just him!” Tabitha groaned in exasperation. “I want to try to catch all of my friends before school’s out for the weekend. I think I’m hoping we can have a get-together Saturday or Sunday, and (...)

RE: Trailer Trash - 63, Cast off those preconceptions.

Mon, 03 Aug 2026 13:43:19 GMT

The Macintire household happened to be the closest from Springton High and so Tabitha was dropped off first—she thanked Casey for the ride and hopped out of the Jimmy, waving goodbye to everyone. Although it had been another long day of high school, Art Club had her in pretty high spirits, so Tabitha wore a small smile as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. There was a bit of homework to take care of, but nothing too tedious, and after that she planned to make scalloped potatoes for dinner.

Tuesday night I didn’t really impress with those green beans and instant potatoes, Tabitha recalled. Then, Wednesday night Mrs. Williams really knocked me down a peg or two with her butter potatoes and garlic broccoli… I feel like now I have something to prove! I know for a fact that my scalloped potato recipe absolutely slays. They just… they didn’t get a great first impression of it, because last time I just brought it out as leftovers from the other Thanksgiving. THIS TIME, I’LL SHOW THEM!

She kicked off her new sneakers, and set her bookbag upon the table so that she could settle in and finish a worksheet. It was amusing how easy it was as a teenager for her to slip into idle fantasies about how much she might impress people with her cooking—she was right at that unique age where those happened with high frequency. Tabitha thought she remembered reading in her past life that it was a common fixture of anxious avoidant personality disorder, which had been one of the many labels she tried on when looking to discover what in the heck was wrong with (...)

RE: Trailer Trash - 62, Art Club meeting.

Sat, 17 Jan 2026 20:22:18 GMT

As invigorating as it had been to get Manager John in trouble for his scheduling shenanigans on Tuesday afternoon, as well as see both Tracy and Manager Bob practically lining up to kick the man when he was down—that incident wasn’t without its consequences. On Thursday morning after having enjoyed an entire Wednesday off, Mrs. Moore clocked into work at Food Lion to discover a stony-faced Manager John… who had decided not to put her on register today.

“We don’t need you in Front End today,” Manager John said in a flat tone devoid of all of his usual pretense of friendliness. “They need someone in Bakery, so head on over and ask for Claudia.”

Having spent a few days already learning the ins and outs of being a checkout clerk and getting comfortable with that, Mrs. Moore helplessly complied, feeling the familiar creep of icewater in her veins at the prospect of having to restart training in a whole new area from scratch. Not only that, it was in Bakery, the department that both Cindy and Frank had warned her about the other day! There didn’t seem to be anything she could do about it right now if Manager John wanted to make her shifts difficult for getting him in trouble. Thus, Mrs. Moore had headed back across the aisles towards the corner of the store where she remembered the bakery was, and with hesitant, halting steps she finally went around the counters there and entered the tiled area for employees just behind, feeling as skittish and unsure of herself as a lost child.

“Can I help you?” An irritated voice demanded.

RE: Trailer Trash - 61, Singing to herself.

Wed, 12 Nov 2025 18:05:01 GMT

Deb and Mike’s ‘DaM’ Good Wings was one of the familiar places to eat for Mr. Moore, sandwiched in between a nail salon and a tax accountant in a strip mall just four blocks down from their trailer park. The place was a restaurant only in loose terms—Deb wasn’t shy of telling her customers that their small business only survived by clinging onto one of the few liquor licenses Springton was willing to mete out. They sold cheap beer, they dispatched greasy as hell fries and wings in cheap styrofoam containers, and the decor inside was so dated that ashtrays were still resting on every table. It was the closest a little town like Springton had to a dive bar—because this was a semi-dry county, the nearest real bar was way out in the sticks, halfway to Sandboro.

Been a while, hasn’t it? Mr. Moore thought to himself as he pulled open the grimy door and stepped inside.

The smell of unfiltered fryer grease was strong, all of the tabletops here looked sticky, and the walls featured yellowed football posters and various Budweiser and Miller Lite neon signs. This late in the evening, quite a few of the tables were full—mostly the younger local crowd, of which Alan only recognized one guy who was apprenticed under one of the plumbers he knew—and then off in the corner was Ricky Davis. Ricky was in his early forties, fat and balding but had big, expressive features that made him seem more charismatic than he had any right to be.

Always was tryin’ to make himself out to be like a redneck John Belushi, Mr. Moore remembered. Hell, for YEARS and years he was tryin’ to rock them big shades all the time like he was a Blues Brother. Hah!

“Alan! Hey man how ya doin’?” Ricky called, raising a beer. “Good to see you, man. Good to see you. Been a while, huh?”

“Yeah, damn,” Mr. Moore nodded. “Few months already, huh? Thanks for comin’ out and meetin’ me on such short notice.”

“Hell, (...)

RE: Trailer Trash - 60, The cost of being cool.

Sat, 29 Mar 2025 14:28:04 GMT

“The fuck do you mean she wasn’t at the party?!” Brittany raged, using her fingertips to shove Ashlee back again. “Uh, hello? That exact bitch I pointed out to you was at the party. She said so herself, now everyone thinks I’m an idiot.”

Brittany wasn’t usually prone to lashing out in physical acts of violence like Erica always had—the sharp little shoves stung, and Ashlee covered the tender aches they left behind just above her boobs, but they didn’t hurt. Not like fists did, not like it used to when Erica kicked her. Ashlee recoiled back against the wall and shielded her face all the same, because if she’d learned one thing over the course of her childhood, was that you never wanted to let your abuser believe they weren’t hitting you hard enough.

“I don’t know!” Ashlee wailed. “I—I don’t remember seeing her there. I don’t know!”

She really didn’t remember seeing the smiling girl from that yearbook photo. No one believed her, though. This morning Clarissa had mentioned that oh, yeah you’re wrong about it, she was totally there, but Ashlee only trusted her own recollection. There had been two older guys and two older girls—probably sophomores or juniors. Tabitha and her boyfriend, and then Tabitha’s two cronies, they all seemed like they were probably freshmen. Then five elementary kids, which were cousins or younger siblings (...)

RE: Trailer Trash - 59, The terrible tantrum.

Thu, 02 Jan 2025 13:37:13 GMT

“Hannah, it would just be for—” Tabitha tried to explain.

“NO, No you can’t leave you can’t leave—!” Hannah wailed, and her quaking voice rose in decibel until Tabitha flinched back from the sheer volume. Dgou CAN’T leeEEEAAaaavee—!!”

When Hannah’s pitch became a downright squeal, Officer Macintire and Mrs. Macintire exchanged meaningful looks and then rose up from their seats. Seeing that they were keeping their calm, that the two parents had a response to this and weren’t panicking filled Tabitha with relief—because she herself was thrown into a panic by this sudden turn in the little girl’s mood. Tabitha had been warned that a tantrum or emotional episode like this might happen sometimes, they had told her it was possible from the very beginning.

But, nothing prepared her for actually seeing it happen firsthand.

Over their many weeks together, Hannah had been on such outstanding behavior for her that it had become a point of pride. Tabitha had perhaps began to delude herself into thinking that perhaps she was some exceptional Mary Poppins figure who was simply outstanding with children. It was easy to start thinking that when she only dealt with the little girl at her best, and never underwent the trials and tribulations of Hannah at her worst.

RE: Trailer Trash - 58, Home is where the heart is.

Fri, 08 Nov 2024 14:29:54 GMT

As always, a trip to Springton’s Food Lion was a nostalgic affair. In her past life she had stopped shopping there when she moved out of the trailer for college—even after moving ‘back’ to the area, her apartment was over towards the other side of town. At that point she had gotten groceries at the Kroger in Fairfield, since it was closer. Memories of the Food Lion here in town from her past life now were scant—she maybe remembered following behind her father with the shopping cart, listless and annoyed to be there.

Memories from her present life had stolen center stage, because this was where Tabitha hunted carefully for bargains and cross-checked coupon prices throughout this past summer. Her parents finally conceding the food planning to her had been one of the first instances of regaining agency and starting to feel like her life was in her control again, so they were positive memories. Even more than those ones, she remembered coming here for ice cream to celebrate right when they’d taken her home from the hospital.

Was excited and just so… HAPPY. It was one of those rare moments where I felt like I was connecting with my ‘child’ self, Tabitha recalled, unbuckling her seatbelt.

Riding in the back of a police squad car was a novel experience, because Tabitha hadn’t thought cops were allowed to use their patrol vehicles for personal errands. Apparently, here in Springton it was even somewhat encouraged; an off-duty officer was still an officer, and the presence of a police car throughout town was a reassurance to everyone, and in theory helped to deter crime.

“Alright girls, looks like (...)

RE: Trailer Trash - 57, The girls locker room.

Tue, 10 Sep 2024 15:50:18 GMT

“Hey, do you know Matt Haynes?” Alicia asked. “He’s uh—he’s the other, other Matthew. Apparently, he has a crush on you.”

“Uhh,” Tabitha froze in the action of setting her bookbag on the cold table of the quad. “Matt…?”

“Haynes,” Alicia repeated, sizing up Tabitha’s expression with a grin as if to determine whether or not Tabitha was faking her ignorance. “How do you know him?”

“I don’t think I do?” Tabitha gave Alicia a puzzled smile. “I just know, um, the only Matthew I know is… Matthew…”

To her embarrassment, Tabitha’s mind momentarily blanked on the last name of the Matthew she knew. For a moment she wanted to identify him as Casey’s Matthew, but that didn’t seem accurate. Those two were in a relationship, but she couldn’t speak on how close it was, and Matthew didn’t belong to Casey, per se. When she thought about describing him as Mrs. William’s son, she thought that was awkward, because Alicia wasn’t anywhere near as close to Mrs. Williams as she was, and might not know who she was talking about—but that made her realize that obviously the direct descending relation to Mrs. Williams also made Matthew’s last name Williams. Obviously!

“Williams!” Tabitha blurted out. “Ugh! Sorry, it’s early—and I’ve been trying to remember so many people’s names that it’s making my head spin.”

(...)

RE: Trailer Trash - 56, The vagaries of adolescence.

Mon, 08 Jul 2024 19:00:55 GMT

After bundling back up to brave the winter weather, Tabitha joined Officer Macintire for a walk back down the street to the bus stop. What should have been a casual and thoughtless endeavors was instead made excruciating by Tabitha’s overactive imagination and self-consciousness. She knew by now, at least somewhat, how to act around her peers—other teenages her age. It was rough realizing she had no clue how to act around adults.

No! Not how to act around adults, Tabitha corrected herself. I’m cool with Mrs. Macintire. I’m fine around Mrs. Williams and her husband! It’s just… context, I guess. I’m slowly but surely coming to grips with treating Mrs. Macintire as a mom, and that WORKS because she’s a great mom. She’s great! But, is this dude trying to be a father figure to me? Is that how this works?! Is he a good dad? Probably! I guess. I don’t know.

Dwelling on the meaning of fatherhood was a real weird thing to ruminate on as they walked down the sidewalk together, Tabitha leading by a few feet but taking care not to get too far ahead. Officer Macintire was pacing himself and taking it slow and steady. How did he compare to her actual father, Mr. Moore?

They DON’T compare, Tabitha wanted to be huffy about it, but instead a wave of melancholy fell over her. No, that’s probably not fair. I don’t know. I don’t know!

(...)

RE: Trailer Trash - 55, Misery, tedium, and despair.

Wed, 15 May 2024 13:36:06 GMT

Tabitha was going back to school today, Mrs. Moore thought as she stared down at her hands folded in her lap. Hope she’s having a better time of it than I am here.

She had to hold her hands together to still them, because otherwise they would shake.

The sterile light of the Food Lion’s break room this morning was ominous and terrifying, and half a dozen polite good mornings had been exchanged with the other employees there as they started their day. Everyone on this shift seemed curt and for the most part the niceties offered seemed particularly hollow—Manager John explained that these regular coworkers took time to warm up to new hires, because it was rare that new people lasted longer than a few days.

His joke—if that was supposed to be a joke—was not comforting to her in the slightest, and though Manager John chuckled to himself at it, she was unable to muster up anything more than a wincing smile. Manager John read off parts of her welcome packet to her while skimming past entire swaths of paragraphs as ‘legal mumbo jumbo,’ and skimmed through the sections detailing her ‘first week of training’... as if standing near Tracy yesterday while she ran a register was more than good enough to cover those basics.

So, she was now outfitted in her collared blouse tucked into slacks, over which a Food Lion apron had been donned—the way it tied around her waist made her feel extra fat and exposed and grotesque, but she shoved all of those feelings (...)