About a million years ago, (or 17 is it 17, oh shit) I was on a film shoot. I had done one commercial for this company and they hinted if I did this free one - other jobs could follow. And I needed the experience. It was a piece for an advertising awards show. A ten day shoot. I was one of the only people who was there for the whole thing. One day, we were shooting at the old Stillwater prison. It had these crusty jail cells and it was nice and creepy. There was this guy doing the sound, Ken. For some reason I made a joke about needing some Maalox Whip and he turned around, laughed and was the only person there who knew what it was. (Maalox in an aerosol can that was like dessert topping.) From that day on, we knew we shared an odd sense of humor. And when people ask us where we met, I always gleeful respond, "In prison!!!"
One fall day, I had this thought of taking a picture of Ken in his classic Bonneville. The red blood and green car. And he went along with it. So I dug out the photos from that old shoot and I'll give him the printouts tonite at his birthday party. We met in prison and I killed him. That's what friends are for. Happy Birthday Ken.