The Way to Easy Street
I found the way to Easy Street.
I carved my initials in an old oak tree and then hid in the bushes and waited for someone to come along and carve a plus under my initials followed by their initials, preferably a woman, young and off the charts smart. Then I was going to jump out of the bushes with my arms open wide and say, “Da-da!”
After that, Easy Street.
But it never happened. I grew old and grouchy after years crouched down in the bushes, old grouchy and stooped, although I didn’t realize the stooped part until I finally crawled out again and tried to straighten up. I was old, grouchy, stooped and wrinkled, and the bark on the tree had grown back over my initials.
That pretty much sums up the way to Easy Street – cower in the bushes and wait for a hot babe to come along and carve her initials into your heart. It’s such an off-the-wall thing to do that once you do it no one will ever bother you again, which is what Easy Street boils down to, to be left alone.