Home of Wes Platt and OtherSpace MUSH
“Therefore, let it be resolved that the City of Cypress Knee welcomes one and all to celebrate the commemoration of our one hundred and sixty-seventh anniversary during Founder’s Day Weekend.”
Adelaide Spruce, chair of the city council, set the proclamation aside and then looked toward the other five present members of the board.
“Do I hear a motion to approve this proclamation?” she asked.
Jumper was among sixteen Florida alligators that Dean Gallant snared for Naughty Nico’s back in the late ‘90s for Rutledge Silloway.
Gallant, a raging alcoholic and rumored kiddie-diddler, could slither like a moccasin through even the most seemingly unnavigable patches of Cypress Swamp.
Before the death of Tag Kern, six people had died by hanging from the tower of Cypress Knee’s trademark roadside attraction.
The first hadn’t been that long after the grand opening of Nico’s Natural Wonderland, in early 1967, when a recent Heck High School graduate named Brian Willoughby got his draft card. The note he left behind read: “Saving myself the trip out of the country to get to the body bag.”
Chip Pendleton, chief of the Cypress Knee Police Department for the past five years, closed the driver’s side door of his green-striped white Crown Vic and looked over the roof at his deputy chief, Oswald “Ozzie” Clendening. The rollers cycled red and blue.
“Make sure no one messes with the body,” Pendleton said. “Round up any witnesses you can find at the tower. I’ll check his room.”
Ozzie nodded. “Sure thing, Chief.” He turned toward the doughnut boob for a moment, saw the hanging man’s silhouette, and then turned his gaze back to Pendleton. “Chief, what was he doing here, do ya think?”
Pendleton shrugged. “We’re not even sure it’s him yet. Rutledge says if it is him, he checked in under an alias.”
“It’s all over Twitter, though.”
The chief laughed. “Twitter killed Jeff Goldblum once. Denzel Washington too, if memory serves. “
“If it is him, though…” Ozzie’s voice trailed off.