The Institution

Chapter 16: Bad Karma

The events of Friday afternoon and evening have taught me two very important lessons. 

Lesson number one: 

When you are little, your parents are supposed to teach you about this thing called Karma.  The way my mother explained Karma to me was like this:  Picture Karma as a little girl.  One day on her walk to school Karma passes another little boy who dropped his books into a mud puddle.  Good Karma is supposed to walk over, help the little boy pick up his books, and assist him in carrying them the rest of the way to school, where her teacher praises her and gives her a lollipop for her troubles.  On the other hand, Bad Karma is a Karma who laughs in the boy's face, continues on her way to school alone, and is hit by a bus at the crosswalk. 

If only Karma had helped the little boy instead, and she would never have brought this misfortune upon her. 

If I recall correctly, I think my seven year old self nearly shit my pants and then burst into a hysterical bout of sobbing when my mother told me that Karma was hit by a bus for laughing at somebody.  But I still managed to walk away with the moral of the story, which is that at the end of the day you should always try to be Good Karma and thusly you will be blessed with good vibes in return. 

Lesson number two: 

One should never laugh at Arthur's pitiful attempts to grow a mustache.

You are probably wondering how these two lessons are connected.  Allow me to explain.     

After I was chased from the dorm room by my lampshade-wielding roommate, I took refuge in the library until just after night had fallen, when I deemed it was finally safe to return to Smith Hall.  I should probably add here that I never actually apologized for laughing at Arthur's mustache.  I felt sort of bad about it, but really, you would have laughed at it too- half of it was coming in grey. 

I had high hopes that Arthur would already be at dinner by the time I arrived.  Unfortunately for me, he wasn't.  And that was only the beginning of my bad Karma.

"There you are, Ethan!" exclaimed Arthur's voice from inside the elevator. 

The silver doors slid open to reveal my clean shaven roommate and a basket positively bursting with what I assumed was fresh laundry at his feet.  I froze over the threshold and the elevator doors tried to close on me three times before Arthur's arm snaked out and dragged me inside. 

It was then that I noticed the second occupant of the elevator. 

"Hi Alfie," I said to the redhead.  The boy was hovering just behind Arthur's left shoulder.  He was wearing his backpack and his hands were clutching a mason jar.  I could have been wrong, because I was standing kind of far away and it was hard to see, but it looked to me like there were five or six black cockroaches crawling around at the bottom.   

"They're for my entomology class," said Alfie, in response to my questioning gaze.  "Each student is expected to raise an insect of their choosing under different manipulated environments."  He raised the jar to his eyes and tapped the side with his fingernail.  The roaches shivered. 

"How come you have so many?" I asked, eyeing the crawling insects with a mixture of revulsion and fascination. 

"They keep on breeding," said Alfie, "and I can't figure out how or why, because I haven't fed them yet."

"Oh."

Alfie lowered the jar and stared at the back of Arthur's head. 

Arthur shifted nervously.  Behind him, the jar emitted a rather threatening sounding hiss.