Short Story | Karma Is A Bitch, And Don't I Know It Well

By Eddlynn Jennifer Mangaoang

Please do not repost or copy to another site. Thank you. Enjoy reading.

 Trigger Warning! <Misogynistic Remarks, Homophobic Remarks, Body Shaming, Implied Child Abandonment/Neglect, Implied Domestic Violence>

    Harold takes a swig from his beer mug and the loud boom of the speaker overhead is making his head throb. "Shitty office with shitty people that department is!!!" Gonzales? Ha! She got a frigid ass and an uptight attitude, can't even take an apology with finesse! An ugly bitch! Hey, ya wanna date someone like her? I no wanna. No wanna!"

    Calvin shakes his head helplessly and snatches the mug from Harold's hand. "Bro, you're drunk! I don't volunteer to drive, y'knaw." When Harold tries to reach for it, Calvin blocks his hand with his left arm. Harold gulps from the beer bottle instead. Calvin gives up.

    "I ought to report her to the management. I'm telling ya, I'll report her." Harold stands up and stumbles to the washroom. He grips at the neighboring tables and the midnight blue-painted walls.

    "I'll help you."

    "No, no. Go away! I don't need ya help!" He slurs, and for the nth time that evening, Calvin sighs and walks behind him instead. He waits for him outside the restroom entrance. When Harold comes out again, he seems sober - or just a bit refresh - and he is surprised to see Calvin waiting for him. "Gah ---, are ya stalking me or sumthing? What? Yer homo now?"

    Calvin rolls his eyeballs. "Stupid. Ya almost bumped into a lady earlier coming here, y'know."

    "Was she hot?" Both men return to their table. Harold signs the waiter for three more bottles of beer. "Gonzales ain't hot. Did I mention she friggin' cold?"

    "In bed or otherwise?"

    "Otherwise." A swig. A nacho. Another swig. Chew. Repeat. "Bet she cold in bed as well. Bwahahahahahaha. Hey, hey. Betcha she only knows how to open those thick legs. Didya see her varicose veins? She even bothered putting a skirt, it looks ugly on her!"

    A memory from his childhood resurfaces as he takes on another swig. It's a damn fine day when his momma crossed the threshold of their tiny apartment into the narrow hallways with her red suitcase rolling behind her. He wishes it was his hand connected to hers that day and not the suitcase's. He wishes he didn't hug her legs, bulgy with sticking out veins. He wishes many things he now considered foolish. The bitch is probably happy with her life now considering she left her baggage child and abusive husband.

    Harold shoves a handful of nachos inside his mouth, chews, swallows, and then burps loudly on Calvin's face. 

    "Eww! Gross!" Calvin brings out his handkerchief and wipes his face eagerly.

    "Ya and yer ugly sensibilities. Pssh, why ya hafta kerchief with ya like those sissy boys in aisle four? Give me that!" He snatches the handkerchief and throws it behind him without looking. The ongoing booming music drowns the loud "Hey!" from the table next to them.

    "Y'think Gonzales is dating that sissy secretary of hers? The one with the eyeglasses and stick figure? I think they be dating. Ooooh... office romance. Gyahahahahahahaha."

    Calvin feels a vein ticking in his forehead. His patience is now running thin. "Bro, I'm telling ya, ya need to stop now. There's nothing good coming out with ya insulting her."

    "Not like fatty can hear me." He smirks. "Unless ya tellin'?"

    "'f course not, bro, but see, karma is -"

    Harold continues, " --- a bitch. Oh, I know."

    "It's good that you know, Mr. Santiago, because it's coming back to bite you." Harold sobers right away when he hears the familiar voice from the table behind them. Calvin, too, cannot help but be surprised, turning his head to his left fast like someone slaps him. "I expect a resignation letter from you in the morning via email. You don't need to personally come to turn it in. If I don't get it at eight o'clock, I will effectively fire you. I'll have Mr. Perez clean your desk for you and send your things your way. Don't worry, I wouldn't tell your next employer that the reason you have to resign is that you're too dumb to insult your superior where she can hear you."

    Ms. Gonzales reaches for her clutch and, with her thigh-length skirt and three-inch heels, varicose veins and all, walks confidently out of the buzzing bar.