I've told this story several times, so I'll keep it short.
I was a very inquisitive kid, the kind who constantly asked questions and gobbled up whatever info people gave me in response. Our church really, really
didn't like that. I still remember being about 8 or 9 years old and while I was coloring a picture of Noah's ark, I asked our Sunday School teacher how the people who wrote the Bible knew the entire earth was flooded, since they didn't know that North and South America even existed. Keep in mind, I didn't ask questions in an attempt to argue or debate, I really was just curious and wanted to know. I guess that was the final straw for our church leaders, because they kept my mom after church and told her that I asked too many questions and she needed to teach me what it meant to have faith. To her credit, my mom told them I was a very curious little boy and she wasn't about to squash that.
As I grew older I started asking more, and better questions, and I quickly noticed that most of the time their reactions were like Kenny's here....dodge and avoid. When I turned 15, my parents allowed me to choose for myself whether to attend church. I chose not to. When my mom asked why, I was pretty blunt and told her that none of it made sense to me and it felt like whenever I asked questions to try and understand, the people at the church couldn't explain and acted like merely asking questions was a terrible thing. So if that's what the faith is, it wasn't for me.
Of course I'm simplifying a bit here, but hopefully you get the gist. When people ask why I'm not Christian, I tell them that it makes no sense to me, and no matter who I asked or what I read, it never did.