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Iguana Man
John MunroEvery Florida neighborhood has that one guy who always seems to be on his porch, sipping something cold, watching the world go by. In Raymond and Oscar’s corner of the state, that’s Iguana Man. Nobody’s sure if he has a real name; if he does, no one uses it. What they do know is that he’s been sitting in that same weathered lawn chair for years, wearing sunglasses no matter the time of day, and accompanied by his constant companion: Winnie, a surprisingly chill green iguana who rides his shoulder like she owns the place.
Iguana Man doesn’t get involved in the chaos ... he observes it. Whether it’s a Florida Man jet ski stunt gone wrong, Raymond getting talked into another questionable “adventure” by Oscar, or the police pulling up for the third time in a week, Iguana Man is there, leaning back, quietly amused, occasionally muttering, “Yup… saw that coming.”
He and Winnie are the unofficial historians of the neighborhood’s weirdness, witnesses to more bizarre events than most news crews. If Iguana Man actually wrote a book about everything he’s seen, it would probably be banned in three counties and optioned for a documentary in the same week. Until then, he’s content to sit on his porch, keep Winnie fed, and let Florida do what Florida does best: surprise him.