The Keys

Yes, I vaguely remember that I was talking to Grandpa Calkins and that biker guy came into the room and handed him the car keys and then I was introduced to the biker. I am not surprised that Grandpa Calkins would loan out his car, probably the red El Camino pickup truck, to a dangerously psychotic biker. That's how generous he always was, such a nice guy, so easily taken advantage of by creepy Pastor Webber. My grandparents were always very generous to a fault, always overlooking those little things that bothered them about the Webbers, such as for example the time when Mrs. Webber was pregnant at a rather advanced age and had the test taken to determine whether the child should be aborted if mentally retarded. The Webbers were a shockingly over-the-edge kind of people to be serving as pastors of a Pentecostal church. My grandmother always did Mrs. Webber's hair on Saturday. My grandparents were always so generous to pastor. I, on the other hand, am not so generous as that. I am not so trusting as my parents, not so willing to be led around by a ring in my nose. I have learned that there are times when I must say "NO." Like for example the time when Tana Aivaz wanted a ride to Hollywood to sign up at an agency to become a movie star. She suggested that I could also enroll at the Hollywood agency along with her. Even though we had done some piano duets together, ultimately I declined the offer. Then she wanted to borrow my car to go by herself. Still, I said no. Thus I declined to give Tana a ride to hell but I imagine she found some other way to get there. I already have enough problems, thanks anyway. The last thing I need is to launch my photo into circulation as the laughingstock of Tinseltown. I imagine they have entire vaults of wannabe horror stories. Why should my story be any different from theirs? Yes, it was a good thing for me to say "no."