The Key in Revenge

In an episode of “Everybody Loves Raymond,” Ray Romano described his dancing as a way of frantically searching his body for car keys with no rhythmic grace set to music.  Losing keys can change the pace of the whole day, and one common way of doing such can even trigger an episode of tourettes; especially if it involves locking them in an automobile. 

After realizing that you have indeed put your car keys in lock-down mode, you peer through the window, and it is as if those dangling items in the ignition are wagging their pointer finger at you with a “Nah-uh! You can look but you can’t touch” response.   A labor union in revolt of their owner is one way to compare those grouped keys on the ring as each of them lip-off their taunting tell-all signs that you neglected the “I’ll stand by you” vow when you acquired ownership of its metal clique.  Who’s to say that it was your fault?  Maybe they linked themselves together like an annoying chain of paper clips and reached for the door and engaged the lock button.  Don’t ask them for direction advice while poking around with a wire hanger; they look innocent but are as deceiving as a political campaign ad.  They’ll thumb their noses at you as you stand there helpless and waiting for AAA to charge you and then pay a kickback to them.  If you were to give these keys an ink blot test, chances are an image of a “bat” would not come to mind; however, their personality is likened to cat-like qualities as they turn their head while in the ignition and pretend to either not know you or not see you.  A snake in the grass these objects are.  They will turn on you and create a dramatic scene with the supporting actor called the “car alarm” as it screams, “STOP!  STOP!  INTRUDER!” once you finally have access to that little keychain gang. I know first-hand that they will have a riot inside your car as they change the pre settings to the radio stations, readjust the seat position and mirrors, and suck the energy right out of the vehicle by draining the battery.  All the while, they will have your children brainwashed into not unlocking the doors—“Don’t look at him…Maybe he can’t see us.”  Those keys will document your response sprinkled with more “F” bombs to eliminate the Taliban in order to submit you into an anger management course with a one-sided requisition. 

Who am I to judge their previously mentioned actions?  They only gave me the “I’m sorry, but you didn’t get an invite” look. I only fund their rent by making the car payment, distribute some of my earnings to insuring their living quarters, and keep up the body and mechanical maintenance.  Who am I to question their motives?  What was I thinking?  I'll dedicate a slap in the face from you, Car Keys.