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Chapter 4

People should not allow their dogs to roam free. There should be a law, right? Most towns and cities do have ordinances to that effect, amongst other things. In Little Rock Arkansas it is illegal for dogs to bark after 6 PM. That makes sense. In Oklahoma it is against the law for humans to make ugly faces at dogs; that, not so much. In Connecticut, any dog with a tattoo must be reported to the police. In Minnesota it is illegal for your cat to chase a dog up a telephone pole. In Ohio it is perfectly legal for a police officer to bite a dog in order to quieten him.... the dog not the cop. And of course, in Idaho, no person is allowed to sleep in a dog kennel.

But however... and all that... be as it may... in Odessa, Texas in 1970 an ordinance to keep a dog from roaming the streets... was not so much in effect... or effective anyway.

In addition, there is another seemingly sensible set of rules that should exist and be applied to running buck naked in the streets... or if you prefer... butt naked. In Singapore you can get arrested for being naked in your home if your neighbors happen to see you somehow. You would think that looking through your neighbor’s window would be the infraction. In Florida, it is a violation of the state’s law for Strippers to be topless near alcohol. And in Louisiana, you can be as naked as pleases you: nothing has to be hidden- anus or vagina, titty nipples or vulva as long as the naked person’s intent in being butt jaybird nude is not to arouse anyone.

In keeping with this account of the end of the world as James Brazos knew it: paragraph 2; subsection A of that naked ordinance should state that no 16 year old boy on LSD should be hopping fences and going through people’s back yards... or front yards... with our without their pants...

Brazos got bit right, smack dab in his bare ass.

There was this one dog see, Charlie, who was always outside and off leash and running around and chasing cars and kids on their bicycles.

He looked like he was a cross between a German Police Dog and a Buick. He lived not far from Carol’s house. I remember passing by there on my bicycle, Checkpoint Charlie, we called it. I had seen it in a movie or something; I didn’t really understand the significance of the Berlin Wall or the famous crossing point between the East and West or the Cold War. I just thought it was because there was a lot of snow in the Soviet Union and so it was cold. What I did know was that this big ass dog that lived on Western Street a block from Eastern Avenue would always come running out of nowhere and snarl and yap and snap at my back tire. And we called that general stretch of neighborhood, “Checkpoint Charlie.”

Well, ol’ Checkpoint, got Brazos smack dab, right his young bootay that night.

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