“Hank Benson, why are you accompanying me on a client call?” Karma-Lita floored the gas pedal. Her fingers drummed the steering wheel. She shot an unfriendly look at the man in the passenger seat, clutching his seatbelt with one hand and the handgrip above the window with the other.
“Karma-Lita, you are a long-term employee with Karma Delivery Professionals, where we…TREASURE THAT RELATIONSHIP!” Hank bellowed the last three words as the car swerved. His foot fruitlessly pummeled the non-existent brake on the passenger side.
“Are you all right, Hank? You seem stressed,” said Karma-Lita. They skidded to a halt at a stoplight that glared an angry red down upon them.
Trying to regulate his breathing, Hank couldn’t let go of the handgrip. “Do you always wear camouflage fatigues and black stormtrooper boots when you go out on karma delivery? They send a…CERTAIN SIGNAL!” Clutching his handholds as the traffic light shifted to green, Hank shrieked the last two words, the car having leapt forward like a highly ranked thoroughbred blasting out of a starting gate.
“Looking business-like is important,” said Karma-Lita, checking her hair in the rearview mirror. “I dress to impress. Always wear lipstick. Red goes so well with KDP’s company ring. You’re fiddling with your suit coat — are you worried about wrinkling your suit? We’re almost there.”
“Looking forward to meeting the client,” said Hank. He’d let go of the seatbelt but was now repetitively smoothing a pleat as if he were repeating a gestural mantra. “So important to connect with customers.”
“We’re here.” Karma-Lita screeched to a halt. “That parallel parking space just behind us is perfect. Quick getaway.”
“You’re backing into that infinitesimally short space?”
Karma-Lita flung her right arm over the back of Hank’s seat, craned her neck looking, jammed the car into reverse, and flipped a switch that generated a high-powered blowing noise. The cars in front and in back of that tiny parking space quivered like gelatin and were blown slightly forward or backward, lengthening the empty space. Karma-Lita eased the car into the slot with at least an inch to spare on either end. The blowing noise died away. “Remember when I put those extra-wide reinforced bumpers and the jet-engine-level blowers front and back on my company car at my own expense?” she asked. “Helps lengthen parking spaces. No car upgrades for me.”
Hank had been sitting shell-shocked. “…This area looks familiar,” he said faintly.
Karma-Lita’s boots hit the ground. Hank staggered out of the car.
“This won’t take long,” she said. “The client’s coming.”
A man threw himself out of a house, skidding to a halt just inches from Karma-Lita.
“Hello, Alderson,” she said. “I’m here to deliver some karma. Meet my colleague, Mr. Benson.”
Hank opened his mouth, but Alderson ignored Benson, fixing a malignant stare on Karma-Lita. “I saw you coming, She-Devil. The last time you came by my roof collapsed. I had to get a new roof.”
“Alderson, bad karma acts on the conditions it finds. Your roof was 25 years old, raccoons had been tearing up the shingles, and it had rained for three days. Pre-existing damage. Ergo, collapse.”
“You’re here to lay more bad karma on me?” Alderson practically hissed as he leaned closer.
“No, Alderson.”
“No?” said Alderson.
“No?” echoed Hank, having heard that Karma-Lita typically delivered bad karma.
Karma-Lita handed Alderson a KDP merit badge. “Two karma points for saving that kitten from being run over by that low-rider.”
Alderson stared. “You’re giving me GOOD karma??”
“Take it and run. No backsliding,” said Karma-Lita, turning on her heel. “Coming, Hank?”
Hank caught up with her as she slid into the driver’s seat. “Why couldn’t we stay to talk with a positive karma award-winner?”
“Alderson has anger management issues,” said Karma-Lita. “He threw a bowl of apples at my predecessor. Trying to protect you might have been fruitless. Get in. We have more karma to deliver.”
Hank got in. “Good. My check ride list is blank. I haven’t had time to write anything…DOWN…,” he screamed as the car flew out of the parking space.
“So, this is a check ride?” Karma-Lita floored it. “We went for a ride. Check. Done.”
Biographical sketch: Linda Lemery llemery@gmail.com welcomes reader comments.
