Rob Azevedo takes an unwanted sick day and wonders how he ever doubted karma could be so evil and cunning.
—-
I was never a fan of staying home sick, not as a kid and definitely not as an adult. A seethingly unproductive mode, these stretch of hours. Depressing even. Not just even, definitely depressing.
I understand the allure, a full day away from it all. Or close to it. The perfect eight hours. Free to get birth naked and fold a basket of whites in the middle of the kitchen. Free to crank both the TV and the bathroom radio, one funk, the other Outlaw videos. Free to eat pork shops drenched in a spicy red sauce at ten in the morning.
Free to do just about anything you want.
Yet here I am, home sick on a sunny day and not digging it. Not so much “sick” as injured with a broken ankle. A fresh one, too. Toes still unrecognizable, a purple sausage visual.
A slight constant throb,
a karma job.
I had it coming, this busted ankle.
♦◊♦
Eight months back, me and my Uncle Lou were testing out a few classic Jimmy Snuka wresting moves at some nine year olds birthday party when I came down hard on his ankle. I can get pretty carried away when my biceps are tied up in feathers, like the legendary Snuka.
For three months, Uncle Lou was laid up with a broken ankle. At first, it was pretty hilarious. Not so much the aftermath, but the trajectory in which the injury occurred. Fools, one hundred perfect. Graying fools at that. Utter disregard for maturation. An intensely difficult task for two loyalist to the A.W.A. Blood Brothers.
Soon after breaking my Uncle’s ankle, I knew my time would come. I hadn’t forgot about karma or her cunning means of operation. Lying low in wait for months — or even years — studying her targets enticements in life, karma, once activated, strikes with a Tysonesque finality. No time to put your hands up. Just Bam! All done.
“You’re even with the world,” she might say when finished. “Now get to limping.”
So I shamble into my day off, alone, bored to tears, mildly depressed. Spent a good portion of the morning watching the movie “Benchwarmers” with David Spade. Few laughs. Still no way to start a Tuesday. I feel gross with the sun blazing outside, frumping the day away.
Now I ache
for a freshness to my state,
a way to polish
this given turd of fate.
I then shower.
It’s there I replay karma’s payback in my mind, allowing the soap bubbles to wash over my ginormous ankle. I see a largely inactive, aging male body barreling down on me, then falling back on me, blindsiding my legs, my ribs, my knobby hairless ankles. I hear myself scream like a schoolgirl playing Capture the Dragon. Then a mix of breathless contortions and horrid cuss words follow.
I scream, “Goddess of Karma, you are the blackest of all death!”
I hear my Uncle Lou laughing at my side, “All hail Black Death!”
Fresh out of the shower, I decide to make a day of it. As long as I don’t move my left leg I won’t need to heed to karmas gloating. Yet every time I catch my boot cast, the one that makes me look like half a Storm Trooper, on a rug in the house, twisting my foot back, I can’t help but stand in awe of karma’s relentless powers and elephant mind.
So now, with the waning hours of my sick day coming to an end, with my leg elevated heart-to-toe, with my punishment complete and my soul cleansed, I can only adhere to karma’s grand plan in the future. We all must. Osama gets it. John Edwards gets it. Uncle Lou gets it. Maybe even Jimmy Snuka gets it.
I know I get it, for now at least.
—
This post is republished on Medium.
***
You Might Also Like These From The Good Men Project
Compliments Men Want to Hear More Often | Relationships Aren’t Easy, But They’re Worth It | The One Thing Men Want More Than Sex | ..A Man’s Kiss Tells You Everything |
Join The Good Men Project as a Premium Member today.
All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.
A $50 annual membership gives you an all access pass. You can be a part of every call, group, class and community.
A $25 annual membership gives you access to one class, one Social Interest group and our online communities.
A $12 annual membership gives you access to our Friday calls with the publisher, our online community.
Register New Account
Need more info? A complete list of benefits is here.
—
Photo credit: iStock