“For the Love a Christ!” by Florence the Dog of READ Books

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Those readers familiar with my earlier work know that I, Florence, am a dog with a checkered past. Due to systematic iniquities & racism, I had been unjustly imprisoned in the Crenshaw pokey, where the powers that be had blithely discussed sending me to the gas chamber for the alleged crime of homelessness. Upon being freed from incarceration, naturally, I harbored more than a few issues, not the least being a raging case of separation anxiety disorder. Whenever my biped liberators drove to work at READ Books, thus leaving me home alone, I, Florence, would hop onto their biped bed and pee copiously upon their plush pillows. Leave me home alone, will yuh? I make no claims to being a role model, but I am an effective mother f#$%er. My precise bedwetting led directly to my becoming a bookstore mutt.

Now that my two younger bipeds are finished with high school & attending college locally, I often spend afternoons at home with them instead of at the bookstore. Recently, these college boys have been grousing incessantly to their biped progenitors about lack of money: Blah blah blah broke. To which their decrepit elders retort: blah blah blah job. So last Sunday, my broke & puerile bipeds strapped me up, nudged me into the car, and drove to READ Books with the intent of alleviating their brokenness through literary labor.

“For the love a Christ,” muttered biped boy #1, having circled the bookstore neighborhood myriad times, “what are all these cars doing here?”

“There’s a spot,” said biped boy#2 as we passed the Lutheran church.

“Nope,” said biped boy#1, noting that the curb had been painted white with a sign that denoted this street parking area as reserved for church vehicles. Around the corner, on the streets surrounding St. Dominic’s, all spots were taken. At this point I commenced slamming my body against the car door whilst barking: “Walk! Walk!” Lock me up in car, will yuh? Still not a role model, but I, Flo, get what I want.

Thus freed from vehicular confines, I’m walking young biped #2 around the neighborhood while #1 searches alone for parking, and, my paw to God, we counted 8 churches in a 4 block radius. Did you know that there’s a church in the American Legion, or that the newest one is in the postal building at the corner of Eagle Rock & Chickasaw? Neither church has a parking lot. Strolling past the latter, a barrage of Mr. Microphone type chatter emanating from within molested this quadruped’s ears. Apparently the congregation was serenading Jesus, in Spanish, about how they had a great big convoy.

Our walk concluded on the yard outside Eagle Rock Elementary, where we reunited with an irritable biped boy #1 who had finally located a parking space and was now hoofing it toward the bookstore. As I frolicked on the green grass, pausing briefly to poop, a throng of bipeds in their Sunday best exited the school’s, the public school’s, auditorium.

“Blah blah blah church in a school?” queried biped boy #2.

“Blah blah blah separation between church & state?” added his brother, the socialist.

The three of us stood there wagging our heads sadly, wondering at the state of our nation whose public schools are so damn broke that they’d rent out space to religious institutions. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? Dismayed, we schlepped to the bookstore where we were involuntarily serenaded for the next hour by Eagle Rock’s newest church. Tenemos un gran convoy grande, corriendo toda la noche…

About Jeremy

I own a bookstore. I run. I fight. I family.
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