Today I walked into a drugstore, smiled wide and greeted the cashier, who practically rolled her eyes and snapped her gum in my face. Recoiling from the rejection, I turned and promptly knocked down a pyramid of Beano. As all eyes fell upon me and I fumbled to resurrect the display, I decided this was most definitely not how karma was supposed to work.
When the stars are all aligned correctly, it’s the bitch who knocks over the Beano. Here’s an example.
One morning I circled my classroom with my grade book and discovered absolutely no one, in a class of twenty-eight eighth-graders, did their homework. That’s right, I was 0 for 28. I practically threw my grade book across my desk and surveyed the sea of indifference.
“Quick question,” I began. “What exactly are your plans for, oh, I don’t know…feeding your kids someday? You think you’re going to get by all your lives on handouts? Why not? This is America, the land of free opportunity! Right? Right?”
They stared. I was on a roll.
“What’s so funny over there, Mr. Resto? Will you have that same smirk on your face when you’re living in a cardboard box? Hey, how about ALL OF YOU set up a cardboard condo complex right on the side of Airport Road. You won’t need parking, since no one will be able to afford a car…but don’t worry! You can put wheels on your box and roll it down the street to work—OH, WAIT! None of you will have a job! You know what? I am done. DONE! If any of you in here actually want to learn something, I’ll be over here filing my nails!”
And with that I took a seat on the nearest desk, or at least that was my plan. As fate would have it, one leg on the desk was shorter than the other three, and the desk collapsed, taking me down with it.
For the rest of the year, it was a favorite. “Hey, Miss! Remember when you went crazy on us and fell off a desk?”
And that, my friends, is how karma is done.
