This is How My Brain Works

At work, we have a key that opens (almost) all the doors. We call it the A key, which was always something that bothered me to say aloud. “The” and “a” are two separate particles. Yes, it is a key, and yes, it is the key, but we don’t say both. Plus, when I say it too fast, it sounds like, “Can you hand me the achy, please,” as if I’m asking for arthritis to afflict me. (Please don’t.)

Why is it called an A key anyway? Probably because it’s a primary key, and A is first in the alphabet. “All Access” also begins with A. However, this key has had a lot of aliases over the years. It used to be on a keychain with Donald Duck, and I would ask for Donald so I could go down the secret back door and clear the basement before closing. I would also have to take the Pig, another key that turned off the alarm on said secret door. The pig keychain was fitting because the alarm would squeal if you didn’t take him.

The A key also had Kermit the Frog as its keychain for a while. He didn’t survive the fall down the elevator, though. Now, it has a plush octopus keychain, and because he doesn’t have a famous name, we’ve reverted to calling it the A key. Yet, here I am, trying to justify the existence of the octopus and the current nomenclature.

Octopus starts with O, but what if it didn’t? Actopus. He’s not a real octopus. He’s an actor pretending to be an octopus. I’m coming up with a whole backstory for this keychain. He might be a spy.