Poor Karl I!I

Karl always shook my hand. He talked to me man to man. He was a man, I was a young guy. Karl was my friend, and I treated him as such. If Karl needed a ride, I would've asked my dad to give him one. If Karl was upset, I'd tip him more to cheer him up. Karl was cool, you know? I think my invested business and friendship would have called him a friend. But he was just my barber. And friends give friends chances, but Karl's chance's were limited. In fact, they did not exist. Karl messed up one day. One screw up, that's all it took.