When Karma Comes A Calling

Daniel put his nondescript white Chevy work van in park then fell back into the captains chair. His right hand went across his body then reached down to fish for the seat belt buckle, found it then pushed the button. The reaffirming click told him he was safe now.

His heart was still racing but at least now he was able to catch his breath, so his hand now went to the side pocket of his cargo shorts and fished out his pack of full flavor Pall Malls. He only smoked five cigarettes a day, but tonight he was going to allow himself a sixth one. He both needed and deserved an extra one.

Just ten minutes prior a big eighteen wheeler had come within milliseconds from turning this day into the worst, and possibly last day of his life. The driver decided to run that particular red light on that particular road at that particular moment, missing Daniels van by inches. Catastrophe was just a literal hair length away.

His hand found the box of cigarettes. He pulled it out of the pocket and laid them in his lap, then leaned forward a bit and reached under the seat until he found the plastic travel bottle of vodka. He pulled it out and laid it beside his smokes.

Normally he only drank it mixed, but right now he needed to feel the warmth of the liquid immediately. So he uncapped it and put the precious bottle of nectar to his lips and took a good long pull.

The liquor and the heat of the Southern Georgia summer night conspired with each other, almost causing the shot to come back up and out. But, he choked it down like a big boy.

The sweat no longer trickled down his back but rather seemed to flow in small rivers to the crack of his ass. It reminded him that he had to get some freon for his air conditioning before he ended up passing out at the wheel one day.

He stared at the bare bulbed porch light which was swarmed with bugs of every size. If it could fly, it was probably flying around that hundred watt bulb.

The swarming bugs meant the toads were all around the front porch as well. From where he sat he could see at least three of them on the front door steps, waiting for something to screw up and fly close enough for the amphibian to nail it with a quick flick of the tongue.

They would all be fat and happy by the time the sun came up and they would have to hop back their little burrows to call it a day.

Daniel was fascinated by the toads when he was younger, having lived in this house all his life. He would lay down on his stomach and watch the toads hunt and ambush their prey without the slightest hint of remorse or mercy.

Most people thought the lowly toads were a bunch of cute little playful animals. They acted like if they could shrink down to that size then they would be friends with the animals, go on happy adventures together.

Daniel knew better. His dad had told him if toads were big enough to eat people then mankind would be extinct. They were varocious predators.

His dad had taught him a lot about the various animals that lived on their thirty acres of woods. They sat at the pond together fishing and talking about everything under the sun, camped out in separate tents sometimes, and would sometimes just wander about in the woods turning over everything they could to see what was underneath. He missed his dad sometimes.

The only problem with thinking about his dad was that it always brought him back to the last time he saw him. That Christmas morning when young Daniel had woke up, leaped out of bed and ran downstairs to see if Santa had read his list this year.

That year though, when he got to the bottom of the stairs, he stopped, looked up to see his dad hanging there, the rope tied to the upstairs stair posts.

He stood there affixed to the sight. How different he looked with that huge purple tongue hanging out of his mouth. Reminded him of a toad.

His mom came out of their room, already dressed like she had been up for a while. She walked right by his father's corpse like it was just a regular day.

"Get your ass in that kitchen and get your cereal out. Don't keep staring at that loser. Fucking weakling." she barked at him as she descended to the bottom of the stairs.

He could tell she had been in the bottle already by her speech. When his mom was drinking her voice became deeper, more raspy sounding. Like a completely different person.

There would never again be a Christmas tree or a Christmas in that house again. In fact, there was very little happiness at all within those walls ever again.

He fucking loved the toads.

He pulled a butt out of the box, put it to his lips, then he reached into his right front pocket and retrieved his Zippo.

The lighter that once belonged to his dad flared to life with a snap of his fingers, the sound of the tobacco igniting filled the front of the van in the silence of the Georgia night.

Taking a deep long leisurely pull from the cigarette he could finally feel his nerves settling down.

He leaned over to open his glove compartment and fished a bottle of pills from within. He opened the bottle and then uncapped the vodka once more, nabbed a Percocet in his fingers and put it in his mouth. He then washed it down with a slug of the liquor.

Daniel put the pill bottle back and retrieved a flashlight from the glove box. He flipped it on and the sudden beam of light blinded him for a second.

"It's a goddam miracle I grew up sane and normal," he said out loud to no one in particular as the beam of light illuminated the corpse of Rebecca. She was still right where he put her.