Simple Key
I get home after a long bike ride, the
sweat so heavy it drips a pool onto the cement as I lock my bike up
against the burning metal fence. The humidity is out for murder
today. I stumble up the steps to my front door, the heat so hot my
pants are glued to my leg, making the simple human act of walking
upright on two legs looks as if it was a a fantasy I once had as a
infant child.
I get to my front door and reach for my keys in my
side-pants pocket, where they always are. Of course I have to
struggle to fist my pocket because my pants seem to be glued to my
very existence. Why the fuck did I even wear jeans today? Upon
invaginating my fat mushy hand into the slit of my pocket, I
discover a gum wrapper, a receipt from today, a receipt from two days
ago, a pen lid to the pen I lost earlier, a lighter, yet to my
surprise, no keys. The other pocket is completely empty.
Luckily I'm
quite the Macgyver of quick thinking and remembered that I put the
keys in my backpack for no apparent reason other than I seem to like
to fuck with myself. I unzip the front pocket of my backpack and
those sweet keys are staring at me right on top of all my other old
receipts. I take my keys out and throw my bag on the ground, right into my cesspool of sweat. No worries, I will forget I even did it within the next two minutes.
I shove the key into the lock upside down,
because why do it the right way first? I twist the little bastard
around. Then I twist the little bastard around again. Nothing.
Finally I shake the little piece of shit like I'm going to be the Don of a
goddamn polka dance contest. The lock gives, I throw myself inside my
house to realize, all is not as it should be. I'm still sweating, the
air conditioning is broken.
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