Karma Collects

They say Karma, the cosmic balance of good and evil, is a fickle friend, a very fickle friend indeed. One day she may choose to smile upon you, and in that day none can touch you. Howevr, none can protect you from her wrath and disdain once your time comes for retribution.

Not so long ago, I performed a feat of RobinHood-ian proportion, believing myself to be the fabled defender of the oppressed and down trodden. Coincidently, this event occured on the same day of my post regarding Pizza Hut’s super supreme customer service (here). The story goes as follows:

We were hosting a relative over for dinner one evening, and inadvertently, he chose to park his car in an area that a corrupt, vile, wretched educational institution claims is their own, and go to great lengths to enforce this territorial monopoly upon the poor people in the surrounding buildings.

(For more on how the evening went, feel free to view the previous post, this one is concerned with the events AFTER the family gathering.)

Unbeknownst to my relative, as he bade us farewell and headed back toward his car, the evil, corrupt, vile, wretched institutions nasty henchmen saw to it that the area they believe is theirs by rent-right was cordoned off with a sizeable metallic chain and padlock.

Fortunately that night, I had chosen to accompany my relative on his walk back toward his car, for the first time since he started visiting, as I had understood he was parked far away and thought to myself, well he would enjoy the company instead of walking alone.

Upon assessing the situation, the responsibility of freeing my friend and relative from the clutches of these Machiavellian thugs, rested upon my broad shoulders.

As I meticulously schemed, a single, lone lightbulb came to life above my head.

3 years or so ago I had purchased a mighty sledgehammer, to be used as an exercise tool in homage to Rocky Balboa, in a vacant, empty yard behind my building that housed several large tyres. That formidable weapon proved to be the voice of the people, as I exercised it in ways befitting its original purpose as opposed to my intended purpose; it broke down the walls of tyranny.

I ran back home, my face alight with a huge smile in anticipation of the wanton destruction I was about to wreak upon this evil, vile, corrupt, villainous institution.

I retrieved my hammer, thoughtfully named Mjolnir, and proceeded to smash away at the chains of oppression that these thugs had placed up to trap the hapless, hopeless persons of the area in a criminal way for their own nefarious purpose. My relative, smiling ecstatically, thanked me and drove off into the night, free at last.

For good measure, I decided to take the long chain as booty, and to serve them a reminder that wherever there was injustice, the hammer of justice was sure to prevail.

That day I went to sleep feeling quite the hero.

Last night however, I came across a stark, grim realisation.

In an act of equal destructive proportion, some bandit had come into my building, located my bicycle which I used to go on adventures with the DBCK, proceeded to hack away at the chain I used to keep it safe on the stairwell, and the wretched thief made away with my bicycle in tow, as well as the small chain I used to keep it locked.

An Eye for an Eye, Iron for Iron, a Chain for a Chain.

Karma, Collects.

August 2011 ( View complete archive page )

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