To the person or persons who threw the raw egg from the moving car last night and hit me in the ass, thanks.

Karma.
It’s a funny concept. One that came full circle last night and hit me in the ass in the form of a raw egg.
Now those of you who only know me as the fun loving, nice person that I am now might not know I have a bit of a checkered past. The finer details I don't care to reveal here publicly and in writing, but suffice to say tires, snowballs, rotten vegetables and sometimes gasoline were involved. Not usually on the same night.
As any kid, I thought it was a thrill to do slightly bad and dangerous things. But I never wanted to hurt anyone. It was just good fun. I didn't realize I might actually hurt someone.
But I can tell you now, from experience, that a raw egg in the ass at whatever speed the car was moving, hurts.
Not just physically, as the red mark on my right butt cheek will testify, but mentally.
The randomness and cruelty of it all.
The interruption of my exercising, the interruption of Babylon on BOB FM, the humiliation of arriving home with the slaughtered remains of the unborn chicken on my ass reminding me of all the cruelty I inflicted on strangers when I was younger.
It’s sticky.
I wipe away the splash damage on my tiny radio, the yoke covering my wrist, the shame and shell staining the back of my shorts and edges of my t-shirt, all the while imagining myself apologizing to all those people I affected in my own crazy carefree days.
To whoever owns the truck and trailer with the large dent in the side. Sorry.
To the guy I went to high school with, who walked the rest of the way home one night with tiny ice and cola stains from a mostly empty cup of Coke from McDonald’s; I hope we’re still friends.
To the hundreds of people who smelled burning rubber through the fall of my junior year in high school. Whoops, my bad.
To my friend who stumbled as we ran from the highway, being chased by two guys who’s car was just hit with a snowball, got caught and punched in the face. I just wasn’t thinking.
To the guys who punched him. He didn’t do it.
To all the people who were late for anything because of the tiny traffic jam the night Brodhead Road caught on fire. It’ll never happen again.
To the person or persons who threw the raw egg from the moving car last night and hit me in the ass; I laughed. I was stunned. I almost threw a rock at you. Thank you.
Thank you for bringing my karma full circle, thank you for allowing me closure, and mostly, thank you for not throwing hard boiled eggs, or metal tipped darts on a string randomly up into the air. (To whoever owns the camper with the dart in the roof, sorry.)
Peace
Larry