I have this philosophy that all keychains are evil.
Not like it matters, considering the fact I never come in contact with them. However, the last day of last semester, I missed the bus. You can imagine how thrilled I was to trample home in three feet of snow in the middle of a Colorado Winter Not-So-Wonderland. At one point, I wandered into this pawn shop to warm my feet, and I must have looked pretty pathetic because one of the owners gave me a cup of hot cocoa and handed me a box saying, “Here, keep this, I can’t sell it here.”
I opened the box when I got home, and there it was. The stupid keychain that ruined my life. But, at the time I said, “Hey, cool tiny eight ball” and I attached it to the zipper of my backpack where it would then ruin lives.