Keys to the Kingdom

One of our favorite restaurants is the sushi place around the corner from our house. It's within walking distance, if you consider one half block within walking distance, but we drive. Seriously, we drive one half block. The drive actually takes us two blocks out of the way because of the one way streets. You see, on foot we would have to cross a busy four lane street at rush hour to get there. As pedestrians we are nothing more than a meat target for the morons in a hurry to get home. So I drive. Last night I led the way out to our garage, with Mark behind me. I unlocked the garage door, then the car, and we drove off to Pride Sushi. After a bottle of chardonnay, fried octopus balls, crab rangoon, and two plates of sushi, it was time to go home. I pulled into the garage, got out of the car, locked up the garage door, then reached for the keys to the house. No keys. I keep my car keys and my house keys on two different key chains for this very reason.

"Mark, I can't find the keys to the house." I cried as I patted down every inch of my clothing and checked every nook and cranny.

"Waaaa.... you asshole. You do this every time.... waaaaa"

"Right, I purposely lost my house keys. why don't you have yours?"

"You idiot... "

"Seriously, you're not helping things. So if I were you, I would just shut the fu...."

"Waaaa... I have to pee.... Open the damn door..."

Only one thing to do. I ran back over to the sushi restaurant. No I didn't drive back. Instead I ran over there, crossing Peterson Avenue, cursing at the rush hour traffic, throwing up my middle finger at the drivers as they careened towards me. Nobody stopped as I ran Frogger like across the street. I entered the restaurant and looked for my keys in the booth where I was sitting, then I looked on the floor. Nothing. No keys. Meanwhile everybody in the place was trying to help, moving chairs and crawling around under tables. No keys. So I returned home, got the big ladder out of the garage, and climbed into the house through the bedroom window. The bedroom window has a fan in it. I pushed the fan in, dropping it on the floor. The dogs immediately went crazy. Good dogs, very good dogs. If I were a burglar, I would have shit my pants. Anyway, I shimmied in through the window, out the back door, down the porch steps, and opened up the porch door for Mark. He sashayed in without a word. After returning the big ladder to the garage, I walked back to the house. Cursing and spitting angry, I was looking down. There, a few inches off of the sidewalk, were my keys laying in the grass. Apparently I had dropped them before we had even got into the car to go eat. Well goddamnitsonofabitch.