And lo, a darkness rolled over the land snuffing out all in its path, raining despair and grief in its hateful swath of destruction. No, wait. It just these two guys sitting in the coffee shop who Won’t. Stop. Bitching.
It’s bitch-a-palooza day!
I don’t know who pissed them off, but they did a great job.
“Don’t they know I have a lawyer? A good lawyer? I’m ready to sue because this is so stupid,” Black Karma One says.
“I have all the papers,” Black Karma Two says. “I’m going to the meeting and telling everyone.”
And this goes on. For an hour. Loudly.
And the karma gets darker and darker, sucking all the joy and happiness from everyone in the coffee shop. Children cry, dogs bay, birds fall dead from the sky, and still they go on over what — as far as I can tell — is the wrong paint color on the neighbor’s house, or maybe lawn ornaments.
Then finally it ends.
“It’s a good thing the women didn’t come with us today,” Black Karma One says.
“I know,” Black Karma Two replies. “I hate listening to them complain.”