Easy-Peazy



                                                                                        Easy-Peasy


It was no accident that they called him ”Easy-Peazy”. Easy was fast. He lived fast and he loved fast. Few who knew him would call him a ”good” man, but they were drawn to his ”Easy” personality all the same, at least for a while. You see, Easy-Peazy wasn’t a bad guy. On the contrary, Easy could charm a virgin away from her mother... once. The problem with Easy was that he was always looking for a shortcut, for an easier way to get by. Easy had been a football star until he got himself kicked off the team for skipping practices, and then he got himself kicked out of school for cheating. His ”Old Lady” kicked him out of the house because he wouldn’t work, and his girl kicked him to the curb for going out with his boys. Easy-Peasy was tired of getting kicked. Easy figured it was high time he did some kicking of his own.

So Easy and Dirty-Donny devised a plan. Dirty-Donny would lure Pretty-Prissy away from the Quick-Mart counter with some flirt dirt while Peazy took the money and ran. It was a good plan. When Eazy-Peazy started running no one could catch him. It was no accident that he was an All-City tailback before they kicked him off the football team. Easy-Peazy was the whole package, as the saying went. On game day Easy brought strength, speed, and balance to the gridiron, but most of all he brought speed. As I said before, Easy-Peazy was fast.

The plan was working. Pretty-Prissy was buying everything Dirty-Donny was selling. The two were giggling their way to the stock room in back while Easy-Peazy headed up front for the cash register.

It is the unforeseen that ruins every great plan. In this instance, the unforeseen was ”Poppa-Top,” the rent-a-cop. Easy-Peazy was out the door, cash in hand, when he heard the call. ”Freeze, police!” But the warning came too late.

Easy had cradled the cashbag in his arm like a pigskin and was already digging for the goal line. His initial burst out the door gained Easy-Peazy some time. He was four, long strides in when he heard the startled cry from the cop, four strides that might as well have been shot from a cannon. The balls of Easy’s feet barely kissed the concrete before lifting and stretching again for another kiss. His breathing timed with his stride like a locomotive... step, step, step, puff... step, step, step, puff. He felt like a locomotive. His free arm swung like a piston, the wrist and hand flopping loose, conserving energy. Powerful thighs churned him forward. He was in his element now, doing what he was meant to do, what he loved to do. If Easy-Peazy only had wings he could lift off like that train in the Christmas cartoon, step, step, step, puff... step, step, step, puff. God, running felt good, too. He should have gone to those football practices. The running wasn’t that bad, the practices hadn’t been that bad. He had just gotten lazy.

He was away. That donut-doughboy cop would never catch him now!

Step, step, puff... step, step, puff. ”A locomotive! That’s what I am! The Freight Train of Pain!”

A happy thought flashed through Easy’s mind as the gunshot sounded, "Not even a bullet could catch me now!”

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