WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY KEYS

Better times
Let the record show that the first time I ever lost anything in my life, I was sober. Let the record show that there is some creep hanging around the Whistler, stealing the keys away from Nice Young Ladies for reasons unclear to at least one of us.
All can be replaced, and I probably didn’t really need the key to the front door of the sex shop I worked at in 2004 anyway. And I’m sick of taking ribbing from people for having “janitor keys.” But it’s a top-tier pain in the dick having to have someone let you in and realizing at 28 years of age that you have no clue where to buy keychains.
Whoever you are, person who has my keys, I hope you have a really nice life together. Also, that flashlight doesn’t work. Bitch.
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