Freddogg Off The Chain

“Jeepers Creepers where’d you get those Peepers?” Opening line at weekly support group meeting for non incarcerated community voyeurs.
“Everyone come out from behind the doors and curtains and Mr. Dyslexic Voyeur will you please stop looking out the window.”


A long time ago when my lawn was green I taught a General Psychology class in the evening division of a community college. I always impressed upon my adult students that I was a teacher, not a therapist, and to be careful to keep their personal problems under wraps because when they say, “Fredman, I have a friend who thinks he’s a chicken” I’m going to respond “And what is the price of eggs these days” because everyone in the room will know you are talking about yourself—so what the pluck?”

But on a Monday night break young “Poke Sally Annie” stayed back and asked for a personal consultation. I reminded her I was a teacher not a psychotherapist and I would gladly listen to her as a friend but not to put much credence in any advice unraveling from my multiple colleges attended as an undergraduate self. She responded, ”Whatever…..” and I told her mumbling "asshole" under her breath was so completely unnecessary.

Sally told me her boyfriend had been arrested for the second time and instead of shutting up like the trained counselor loser I was not, I responded “People get arrested all the time. It ain’t hard. In fact, the more innocent and innocuous the behavior, the more likely a person is to be arrested.”

Then I proceeded in jest. “So what did this moronic dull normal fiancée of yours do?"

‘He got busted for peeping, ”she said.

I then went off on a storyline titled “The Accidental Peeper” about how a guy could be minding his own business out for a walk when coming upon a naked lady standing by a lighted upstairs bedroom window. The male person may hum the Billy Joel tune “I am an innocent man” and lurk behind a tree until the show was over. But no tree hugging or climbing with spiked shoes”

“It wasn’t like that, ”she said somewhat annoyed and I said “I didn’t think it was” so how was it?’

“It was the second time he was arrested. He picks out attractive women at Wallmart—“say that again”-- and follows them home. He then cases out the property. If he sees a secure place to perch he comes back on a dark and story night.”

“And he gets caught. Let’s not forget that part.”

“And Sally you’re not telling me the entire story are you?”

“No Mr Fredman. Let’s just say he’s not a tree trimmer and he’s not exactly whacking off branches.”

“I think I understand. So where is Tom Cat at this moment?’

“They gave him the option of 30 days in prison or the mental hospital. He’s in there for therapy and evaluation.”

“And so Sally your question to me is what because remember I’m just a friend here not a therapist?”

“Should I go ahead and marry him?”

I pondered the heavy duty nature of this life crises moment for an innocent young women and professionally answered, ”Hell no! Don’t marry that sick bitch! He’s not getting better. The most you can hope for is he builds a tree house in your own back yard.”

She ran from the relationship and a few weeks later some scrawny guy in Wallmart kept staring at me.

“What the hell are you looking at, ”I asked him?

“Revenge of the Jilted Peeper” appearing in a theater near you.

Peace Freddogg