Stumpknocker, Florida: The Town Crazies(Phil Penne) I just got back from a visit to Stumpknocker, Florida, my favorite place in the whole wide world.

I got there just before noon and stopped over at the Magnolia Café for a bite to eat. I was the only one in the place, since everybody else was in Harker for the annual Founder’s Day Celebration and Rattlesnake Roundup. Mildred and Patty, the owners, were sitting at one of the tables rolling up silverware in paper napkins and laughing themselves silly. I sat down with them and asked what was so funny; Patty said they just had both of the town crazies, Gilford Anderson and Maudette Perkins, in the Magnolia at the same time, arguing with each other about Elvis Presley. Mind you, they both agreed he was still alive; it’s just that Gilford had Elvis running a worm farm in Gibsonton, while Maudette countered vehemently that no, he had plastic surgery and was performing on the Ramada Inn circuit.

Gilford is a wiry old guy with eyebrow dandruff and a bald patch on the top of his head that eventually becomes hair that reaches down to the middle of his back. He lives towards the north end of town in a little shotgun house painted olive drab, with tinfoil duct-taped to the roof to keep the x-ray beams from the satellites from spying on him. He keeps ceramic dogs on the front porch, and can sometimes be seen fly fishing in an old claw foot bathtub in Wilma McKinley’s yard that she uses to water her horses.

Gilford’s of an age that would make him a Vietnam vet, and he seems to know a fair amount about it, so everyone pretty much agrees that was his war. But if you ask him, he also saw action as late as Desert Storm, where he’d sit around drinking beer and planning sorties with General Schwarzkopf. He was also in the service as far back as World War II, storming the beachhead at Normandy, manning a fifty caliber anti-aircraft gun at Pearl Harbor and sitting copilot in the Enola Gay when they dropped “The Big Noise” (as he calls it) on Hiroshima, all on the same day.

Nowadays when Gilford’s not telling war stories in front of Eugene’s barber shop, or sitting buck naked in the old DeSoto that’s up on blocks in his front yard, he’s out collecting possum roadkill, a natural resource in abundance around Stumpknocker. He sells the hides and skulls to tourists, but he especially likes it when he finds one that got whacked by a tire or bumper, but not busted up too bad. Those get stuffed and sold at a premium price, and the meat makes for some good eatin’, a delicacy Gilford refers to as “flat rat”.

Maudette Perkins is known as the “Crazy Cat Lady”. Maudette lives in a Sears house put together in nineteen aught nine by her daddy, Clyde – ‘Colonel Clyde’ to the folks who knew him. Maudette shares the place with her seventy-some-odd cats; on nights with a full moon the place sounds like the string section of a middle school symphony orchestra.

All of Maudette’s cats are named for either presidents of the United States or first ladies. There’s the twenty-two pound tabby that goes by the name of William Taft; the ugly female with the really loud meow is Eleanor; Clinton is the gray one that is always humping the females; and Tricky Dick, who’s always sneaking around watching what all the other cats do – oh, and can’t forget Mamie, who Maudette dresses up in fancy hats.

Going to Maudette’s place is an adventure; last time I was there she brought me some special iced tea with her secret ingredient. A quick glance into the glass would make you think the secret ingredient just might be the mini marshmallows. She sat me down on the couch flanked by a cat on each armrest; Abe, a lanky, homely looking cat, and Jackie O, a pretty female with a pink collar. Maudette sat down next to me and opened a photo album. One page of people pictures, six pages of cat pictures, one of people, six of cats – you could see a pattern developing. I wasn’t even sure about all the people pictures; Maudette didn’t even know who a lot of them were, and one picture of an attractive Asian woman had, “Copyright 1998 Buxton, Inc.” printed in the lower left hand corner of the print. I couldn’t swear to it, but I’m pretty sure that particular picture came with a wallet.

It was getting on towards sundown by the time I was done visiting with Maudette. The cats were getting restless, knowing that the umpteen cans of cat food were soon to be opened, my allergies we kicking into high gear, and I had inhaled enough cat hair to weave a good sized blanket. I bid Maudette a fond farewell, reminded her one more time that a bra is customarily worn under a dress, not over it, and headed for my car.

Mildred and Patty tittered as I gulped down the last of my sweet tea and finished the story of my last visit to Maudette’s. Patty carried the tray of wrapped silverware over to the counter area and stored in on one of the shelves, right by the catsup and the order blanks. As I got up to leave, Mildred asked if I saw what was left of Maudette’s barn.

“Yes ma’am, I did. How’d it get burnt down?”

Mildred just smiled and shook her head. “That’d be the Hullabaloo of Aught Two.”

“Hullabaloo of Aught Two?”

Mildred sat me back down and started explaining.

Well, sorry, but it’s getting late and I need my beauty sleep, so that’s all I got right now about my most recent visit to Stumpknocker, Florida, a place where you can still see the stars at night.

---