Karma

Farlo tooled the BMW down West River Road at an easy 70 miles per hour in a 35 zone. He hit the brakes, turned the wheels quickly to the right, went up over the curb, knocked a headlight off against a hydrant and came to a stop behind a car in a MacDonald’s drive through lane. He lowered his window.

“Welcome, can I take your order,” said a voice coming out of a black square with holes in it.

“Three Big Mac’s, hold the lettuce, hold the mayo, hold the tomato, hold the bun.”

“That’s highly unusual, sir. You’re missing most of the calories and don’t forget the best part, the saturated fat.”

“I like my Big Macs just the way they’re made,” said Joey.

“They’re not for you. They’re for Tina.”

“You treat me worse than a dog,” whined Joey.

“Tina’s more faithful. Tina’s always got my back. Tina’s smarter than you.” He turned back to the black box, “I’m not moving unless I get it my way.”

“Would you like to supersize your order, sir?”

“What the hell does that mean, I don’t have all day,” snapped Farlo.

“You can get a large fry, and a fried apple pie with your order, along with an added sugar 48-ounce drink, Sir.”

“Yes, hollered,” Joey.

“No,” hollered Farlo, louder than Joey.

“Please pull up to our pickup window, sir.”

“Give me those credit cards you pulled out of the glove compartment.”

“You’re committing a felony,” said Joey.

“I already committed a felony, I’m compounding it. Think of it this way, we’re doing a job that’s got to be done and on the side, we’re teaching Dr Big Bucks a big lesson. He’s done messing with the little guy.”

“I consider myself a little guy,” said Joey.

“You don’t count. Suck it up. We’re on a mission,” said Farlo.

“Is this a remake of the Blues Brothers?” asked Joey.

Farlo ignored Joey, slipped an American Express credit card to cashier, and said, “Add a five-hundred-dollar tip for yourself.”

“Thank you, sir. You are a saint. This will help me with my tuition,” said the cashier.

“Oh hell, make it a thousand. Stop crying. Give me my order, we’re on a mission,” said Farlo.

“Thank you, Mr. Belushi.”

Farlo left rubber as he peeled out of the fast food parking lot. He took a left on Sanger.

“Why are you going down Sanger, it’s out of the way?” asked Joey, who every other ten seconds turned his head toward the back seat and tried to steal a whiff of Tina’s meal, which was already consumed, digested and moving its’ way through the intestinal tract.

“You got to learn to think strategically if you’re going to work with me long term,” said Farlo. His words sounded like freight car a truck rolling over a gravel road.

“I don’t want to work with you, short or long term,” said Joey.

“Too bad, it was your one shot at advancement in life. When we rescue Harry J I’m going to drop you off, clean out my gear and leave you to rot. You’ll be jobless, kicked out of your home, living on a cardboard box under a bridge, and within two weeks standing on a corner with a sign reading, I don’t work, but I need food.

Joey sat silently staring straight ahead. “You ran a red light.”

“Purposely, fool. It was a red-light photo radar light. Sanger has ten red light photo radar lights and I plan to run red on every one of them.”

“Don’t you think you’re carrying this karma thing a little too far?”

“No. My only moral dilemma is that Harry’s life is in danger. If he was a safe hostage, I could really do some karma payback.”

“Did Karma ever pay you back?” asked Joey.

“I got stuck with you,” growled Farlo.

Nine more traffic lights, nine more red light photo radar lights. Farlo hung a left onto Maple. “You’re going the wrong way down a one-way street.”

“I know. I’m making up time we lost going down Sanger.”

“There’s a FedEx truck, watch it,” screamed Joey.

Farlo swerved onto the sidewalk, knocking over a trash can, clipping a no parking sign, and plowing through eight large black plastic bags of trash, one of which stuck to the BMW’s muffler.

Joey turned and looked out the back window, “There’s a cop car with lights flashing about one-hundred yards behind. We’re going to the slammer. I don’t want to go to prison.”

Farlo glanced in the rearview mirror. Quickly glanced over to Joey, “Hang on tight kid, don’t scream, when we come to a stop, hit the street running and follow Tina and me, it’s your only chance.”

Before Joey could say a word, Farlo, accelerated to 80 mph, ran two stop signs, then cut the wheels to the right, hit the brakes forcing the BMW to go into a controlled skid. The BMW turned sideways, teetered on two wheels, before settling down on four wheels blocking all traffic on Maple. Farlo unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the door, and jumped out. Tina followed. Joey, a bit more than a tad slower, followed fifteen yards behind, “Wait for me, or I’ll tell Filo,” he hollered.

Will they rescue Harry J? Will Joey quit working with Farlo? Who’s Filo?

Joey walked up and down the aisles of the 9^th Ave Goodwill store. So many choices, he was a kid in a candy shop. The twelve patrons and eight workers in Goodwill considered him armed and dangerous and hid behind a counter. The manager went online and was checking Crime Stoppers. Joey stopped at a bin containing men’s boxers. He held a pair of boxers with palm tree designs against his waist, too big. He grabbed a pair of boxers with little poodles and held it against his waist, too small. And, just like Goldilocks, he held a pair of boxers with guppies and angelfish against his waist, and it was just right.

Farlo came up behind him, “You’re taking too much time, here’s your pants and shirt. Go into the restroom and change.”

“I don’t want to wear pink sweatpants and a hoodie with a toy poodle on front with a pink ribbon tied around its neck.

“Suck it up, kid. You’re showing your support to fight breast cancer. Think of other people besides yourself.”

“Who, for instance,” said Joey.

“Me, for instance. I don’t want to babysit you when I could be out with Nicole or my other girlfriend. Now move it. Harry J’s life is in danger and you’re worried about getting a call to appear on the cover of Men’s Magazine. You got another ten pounds to lose and muscle to build. Until then, leave the fantasy alone.”

“You won’t let up, will you?”

“No. Now hop to it before my size 12 finds a resting place,” snarled Farlo.

An hour later, Farlo, Tina, and Joey were outside the physician’s parking garage at University Hospital.

“People are staring at me. They think I’m a cross dresser,” complained Joey.

“Kid, you got to learn not to worry about what other people think,” Farlo snapped. Then he said, “You got any more complaints, take it to the complaint department. Right now, we’re going in and going to requisition a quality ride.”

“Just like that?” said Joey.

“Just like that,” answered Farlo as he ducked under the gate and was inside the parking garage. Tina followed, but did not have to duck under the gate. Joey hollered, I’ll wait outside and make sure the coast is clear.”

From inside the parking garage, “One more word, and Tina’s going to have a piece of rump steak, raw.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

Farlo, Tina, and Joey walked up two flights of stairs. Farlo took them two at a time. Tina took them three at a time. Joey held onto the railing and took them one at a time.

“We almost there?” panted Joey as he neared the second-floor landing.

Farlo and Tina waited for him. “You’re an anchor, kid. You’re still out of shape.”

“True, but I’m getting better,” said Joey.

Farlo opened the door to the second level, he turned to his right and began walking down the rows of BMWs, Lexus, Mercedes, and an occasional Porsche,

“What are you looking for? They all look nice,” said Joey.

Farlo kept walking, Tina kept walking next to Farlo, and Joey trailed. Farlo stopped behind a new BMW, “This is the one I want.”

“Why did you choose this one?” asked Joey.

Farlo pointed to the vanity plate on the rear bumper of the BMW, DrBigBucks.

“Something wrong with that?” asked Joey.

“You ever deal with medical profession? They’re all about money, money, money. I’ll bet this jackass doesn’t do Medicare and only takes cash or gold standard insurance. Karma’s going teach Dr. Big Bucks a lesson.” Farlo reached into his pocket, pulled out a small black case, set it against the BMW’s door, tapped three times on the case’s screen, and the door unlocked. No alarm. Tina jumped in and went the backseat. Farlo slid in. Joey opened the passenger door and slid in.

“It still smells new,” said Joey.

Farlo didn’t answer.

Farlo placed the small black case against the starter button and tapped five different keys. The BMW came to life.”

“Where’d you buy that?” asked Joey.

Farlo turned to him, “At Amazon. I got it last year for $39.95 on Black Friday.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Right. Buckle up, kid.”

Where’s Harry J? Will they rescue him? Who’s Filo?