The Man Who Ate Dog Treats.

I came to Santa Barbara at night to an apartment which possessed a certain level of chaos. I learned I would be with an odd bunch of persons. My roommate whom I would share a bedroom with was an Aryan man from Texas with a strong build. Another was from Brazil, but his blood was Egyptian and Greek, he also spoke loudly and obnoxiously with an accent nobody could recognize. I was very glad to see Mr. Allphin whom was a great comrade of mine in Lake Isabella. Then as I walked out the bathroom I saw a young man who was sitting on my bed beside my open luggage. He had a handful of dog biscuits and was masticating at least one in his mouth. The strong Texan encouraged the behavior and asked for a review of all the varieties, he obliged with pleasure. Shortly thereafter, the man who ate dog treats left the building with Mr. Allphin to their own living space. I couldn't possibly think of a stranger person than he.
Time went on as well as my relations to the man who ate dog treats. There were times his nonsense drove me to violence as I projected a library key between his eyes and left a bruise for days. Still, the man who ate dog treats puzzled me. His demeanor was unique, even impressive. I spent time with him walking the streets of Santa Barbara along with a Canadian friend of his who once worked as a carpenter. Perhaps the strain of insanity that the man who ate dog treats was infectious. I saw myself introducing him to "Punching Trees" which were named so because of their cushioning bark made them excellent punching apparatuses.
Later I left to Simi Valley. The man who ate dog treats did not escape me. No, we spent times now and again walking those streets, I attended meetings he conducted when the occasion permitted, he stayed at my own apartment at certain times. The insanity never ended, mind you. He was elated to show me the wonder of bacon-scented soap, but saddened that the scent did not hold to the body. I carried a GPS with me that would moo like a cow whenever I passed a church or school, he approved with a smile. We both imitated the barking of dogs while in the car.
We parted ways. Duty and fate separated a friendship. Later, in my hometown in Utah I was married. I was glad to see the man who ate dog treats attend my reception. I introduced him to my wife as "bacon-soap kid." He told me that he left a gift for me and my wife. Of course, a pair of milkbones.