Car Keys

It was a cordial day, I was sweaty as it was just after a soccer practice with my new coach, Coach Bill and the Assistant Coach “Solid Move” Allen. Friend 1 said something like “let’s go to the store” so I replied “ok”. This was the mistake that started it all. Friend 1 and 2 start talking about ice cream and what they are going to buy. We step out of my sweaty cleat scented car with the seats in the back scattered my mind was on one thing “what was I going to buy”. After browsing the wide selection of various drinks available to me I have came to the conclusion that I would settle on an ice tea.

Upon retrieving my change I had decided that there was nothing left that was of importance in this store so I headed back out to my sweaty soccer bag ridden car with the fleece shorts draped over the back seat and almost touching the floor the words of fate slipped from my mouth “which one of you nerds have my keys?” I said that with confidence as I think they are playing a joke on me. With a few laughs exchanged I get worried. The thought of losing my keys is a terrible thought. Some would say it’s something no one should have to suffer but we all do.

We are searching all over and we tear my car apart. Figuratively not literally. By “tear my car apart” I simply mean that belongings are being taken out and placed onto the ground in a panicked fashion that was quite noticeable to any bystanders.

The mission was simple. We get in then we get out. Only I misplaced the most important thing to the mission. They key is missing, my dad stopped by and saw what was happening then proceeded to say that I was late to school too many times then left. It was bad news on top of bad news. I was trying to dodge bullets but was only getting hit by others. “Was this my lowest moment?” “Possibly”. In the midst of my sulking to myself while searching frantically I had found a half eaten pop tart from my sister underneath the seat. I felt the goo from the inside and upon pulling it out from its cave I have come to the conclusion that it was a cinnamon due to the brown sugar coating visible on top which was only separated by a dark brown goo from the the terrible crust which had a tan color to it, I think, I am not good with colors.

I look up from the drivers side and see none other than the black vehicle and out steps a figure. The figure had appeared to be Friend 2’s mom as the original end game was to just being 1 and 2 back to 1’s house which would then be none of my business and it would have been a mission accomplished. A nice lady. She was helpful almost to helpful as I was trying to give off hints that she did not have to look in my messy soccer smell ridden car which had been thoroughly soaked with the terrible smell time and time again. She was checking under the seats where all the junk was. All the dirt that could have been there for who knows long. I tried giving off hints like “You do not have to help me, I am sure I will find them” but she never took no ass an answer. Did she see it as a challenge? A goal? Another obstacle to jump over? Whatever it was she insisted on helping me find this key. For the record she is a very nice lady. Anyways after what felt like hours of searching Friend 1 dips his hand into the middle console of this silver car with the silver colored seats that were made of a very typical Toyota Corolla seat fabric. Thus pulling out none other than the lost piece. The guide to how my mornings went. It was unremarkable. Everyone checked there thrice. The odds of finding it there after everything seemed incredible itself. Thus the day was over. Friend 2 left and I brought Friend 1 home after the screaming that happened shortly after because of how mad we both were. Upon coming home I was not even yelled at by my mother but laughed at as word travels in a small town such as this.

Photo on Foter.com