A Guy, His Moped and a Gal

A Guy, His Moped, And A Gal

Smack Brady was a misunderstood fellow. People didn't realize he had good reasons for doing the things he did. Take the broom incident for instance.

Yes, on the outset it would seem the act of a lunatic to break a broom stick over a fellow employees head. But if you knew the gal was two minutes late from lunch and Smack's break was to begin when the tardy bitch returned, the label lunatic seems harsh doesn't it?

Not according to his psychiatrist d'jour, Dr. Leon. He never used the word lunatic. He called it 'personality disorder with a slight tendency toward violence.' Apparently the good doctor hadn't read Smack's file very closely. He didn't have to set him straight because Smack knew what Doctor Kildare really meant. He knew what every one around him meant, in spite of their words. The medication took a lot away from Smack but not that.

Like, when the girl at the corner market said she wouldn't ride with Smack on his moped for all of the money in the world. She really meant he was too good for her. Even if she were the richest person in the world she couldn't measure up.

It made Smack very sad because so many people felt that way about themselves when in his prescence. He completely understood what models meant when they said they spent every weekend alone. Men were too intimidated to approach them. Smack wouldn't be afraid, then there'd be two less lonely people in the world-just like in the song.

Sometimes Smack wondered what kind of song Air Supply would write for him. Would it have lots of swishing sounds like in Chances? Smack thought that would be the right way to go but would ultimately leave it up to Air Supply, if they ever answered his request to write a song about him.

The only thing he got was a knock on the door from the sheriff telling him to stop sending all that crazy mail to Arista Records. The copper only said he was selling tickets for a fundraiser because he was afraid of Smack. But he knew what the flat foot meant and no one called him crazy and got away with it. So, Smack slammed the door in his face after buying only one ticket when he could have bought five. That showed the stinking pig.

Now that we know a little bit about Smack allow me to tell you a story of a guy, his moped and a gal.

Smack was so proud of his moped. It was his first set of wheels but the lady at the DMV had to put a damper on the whole thing by saying she had to look up the information he wanted. In other words, she was going to make it difficult for Smack to get his baby on the road. Angry at her audacity, as any one would be, Smack went to the corner store and asked the clerk her opinion on the matter.

But even the clerk with zero self esteem, when it came to Smack, said she was going to be difficult too. Smack felt the anger boil up inside of him again and started to argue with her.

"Well, I could be wrong." she stammered.

"You are wrong Miss Lady! You are all wrong and I'll prove it to you."

All of those people wanting to bust Smacks's dream. He was used to it and wouldn't let them. Not the DMV bitch. Not the clueless clerk. Not even Air Supply if they decided to add their own two cents, which he knew they would if they ever got around to writing his song.

With the grandeur of a king Smack opened the door to the shed. There she sat in all of her orange glory.

"Here I am." Smack said as he caressed the vinyl seat. "But what are we doing standing around here? Let's go see the world together." With that he took his orange moped out of the shed and went merrily on his way down the road. Then he saw her.

She was an angel walking.

Smack beeped his horn.

She turned.

"Hey, good looking, what cha' got cooking?"

"Looser."

Damn Ron Popiel. What horrible advice he gave in the area of l'amour. But Smack was not dettered. He drove his orange moped on to the sidewalk to block her from moving. She went around via the street. Smack followed her a couple of blocks before she stopped. He felt his heart race. It was the moment. The woman of his dreams would want a kiss for sure and if she were good enough, he'd even let her take his wheels for a spin.

"Go away, freak!"

Damn machismo of his! It was powerful stuff, too powerful. He couldn't blame the girl. He blamed God for cursing him with enough sex appeal for ten men.

Smack shook his fist toward the heaven's in indignation. "I blame, you!" He fell to his knees.

The girl, bless her heart, took the opportunity to escape. Poor misunderstood Smack-if only she knew the torment of his soul.

"And I blame you Mr. Ron Popeil!"

"Yeah, don't use Popeil for the love stuff."

The voice. It wasn't Sammy. Sammy was a guy and the voice belonged to a girl.

Rose? No, not high pitched enough.

Carlie? Not schreechy enough.

Meredith? Could be, but Smack searched his mind and could not recall a time she had ever told him not to do something.

And he hadn't heard from them forever. When our friend Smack was convinced it wasn't any of the voices in his head, he got off his knees and called out "But he makes a hell of a turkey baster."

The girl who owned the voice stepped out of the bushes. "Injector. It's an injector."

What a weirdo, Smack decided upon glancing at the girl. Not his type at all.

"Hey I like your wheels." she said admiring Smacks pride and joy.

"You can't have it." Smack knew a hint when he heard one.

"I bet you race this baby."

Unbelievably the thought had never entered Smack's mind. He pounded on his forehead. "Damn it to hell. A great idea and it has to come from," Smack eyed the girl accusingly, "her."

"You mean you've never raced her?"

"I was going to, if it's any of your business."

"Could I watch?"

Smack had to consider for a moment. For the first time in his life he wasn't sure what a person was really saying. "Yeah, but don't keep your eyes open too much."

"Oh, I know, the evil eye thing and all."

How did she know what he meant? No one ever knew, in spite of his clarity. Could she be... "Do you have a gift?"

"For knowing what people mean?"

Smack nodded.

"I wish! Just lucky guesses."

Hmm, she wasn't overpowered by his sex appeal, yet she showed him she knew it was there. Interesting-very interesting. She wasn't a supermodel but...

"Come on and let's go find a car crazy enough to race this baby."

At the top of the hill about a block away Smack found the perfect victim. A blue vintage Transam waitng for the light to turn green.

"Hey, you feel brave?" Smack yelled at the closed window.

The girl stood by clapping her hands in excitment at the upcoming race.

Smack reved the engine and when the light turned green, he was off! The transam took a left.
Undaunted, Smack brought his baby up to 30mph, and the front tire fell off. He flipped over the bars and landed on his head before his back hit the ground.

"Ouch!" The impact knocked the voices temporarily out of their slumber.

The girl ran over to him. "What a cheater that guy was."

And with those words, Smack looked into the girls eyes and passed out.

He awoke to the girl kissing him. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"I love you. What's your name?"

Smack smiled. Finally someone who said what they meant. "I love you too. Smack Brady."

"I bet you already know my name."

Of course Smack knew her name, but he didn't want to share everything with her so soon, so he just raised his eyebrows and said. "I'd ask you to take my wheels for a spin but well, will you marry me instead?"

The girl reached out her hand. "Oh, I thought you'd never ask." She pulled Smack to his feet. "Hey, if it's okay with you, maybe we can get Air Supply to play at our wedding."

"Good, luck, there." Smack replied

"I know I've been waiting forever for them to write a song for me-but let's try."

Smack nodded, then gave the girl a noogie. "Just so I can hear you say it, say your name."

"Eugenia."

And so it went, by the chances of fate, Smack Brady was no longer a misunderstood fellow and there were two less lonely people in the world.