Title: Karma
Author: Sarah
Feedback: is better than candy
Pairing: Everyone's alone in this story
Word Count: 1202
Rating: Teen
Genre: Humor
Summary: Teenage Alison is a bad, bad person.
Notes: Alison is a lot like me. Huh.
Special Thanks: To popcorn, the only thing I really need to eat.
Spoilers: Maureen's insane.
Warnings: Cursing and talk of dog deaths
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, owned RENT.

"The week of Christmas. I'm bored and tired and I can't stop talking out loud. I heard that can be a symptom of a mental disease. But if I know that I am at least a little insane, then am I insane? Do insane people know they're insane or do they think the rest of the world is? Is everyone really insane in their special little way? How am I insane? The mysteries of the world. Where was I before this tangent?

"Ah, right, I was bitching about Christmas. That wonderful time of the year where family comes together for a few days to exchange gifts and pretend we love each other. This day always makes me want to leave, no flee, home. Also raises an important question: who would win in a fight, Santa or Jesus? My money's on Jesus, though the fat man in red does have elf slaves. Those poor, poor elf slaves."

I start fiddling with the chair's various levers and buttons. Chair goes up, chair goes down. Up down up down up down. Wow, I'm bored.

Somewhere downstairs a door opens then slams shut. Someone's heading up. I can hear them wheezing as they climb up the stairs to the attic I've claimed as my personal sanctuary. Most people don't get why I stay up here. They say it is so hard to get to, no one will want to come up. For some reason, people think that I want to spend time with them. Anyway, I like it up here. It's warm and peaceful and quiet. Plus, you have to climb up about ten flights of stairs to get to this place so, as previously stated, most people don't bother coming up here. We really should install an elevator in this damn house.

The door slides open. A girl, my age with brown hair and a shirt that says "I Heart Whales", walks in. I snatch a pen off the desk and try to figure out how many times I can throw it without dropping it.

"Hello, Maureen," I say without taking my eyes off the pen. Maureen is either my second cousin or the sister of the boy who married my aunt. I've never found out.

"I have arrived!" She is such a drama queen. She'll never say something, when she can proclaim it instead. Anything to get attention. As far as family goes, she isn't that bad but damn, she can be annoying. "Hello Alison, how are you!" Maureen squealed, way too peppy.

"Could be better." Throw pen. Catch pen. Throw pen. Catch pen. "I got the holiday blues." Still bored. So very, very bored.

Maureen pouted. She does that a lot. "Why are you down?" she asks curiously.

Well, I hate my family, I'm fairly certain I'm insane, and I am trapped in my attic with an insane whale lover. I 'm considering saying that out loud when inspiration strikes. I am a bad, bad person. I stop throwing the pen and spin around to look at her.

"Nothing much. Same ol' stuff, with my parents," I say, nonchalantly. I pause and add, trying to sound casual, "Plus my dog committed suicide."

Maureen freezes. "What?" she asks, nervously. She gets squeamish about injuries.

"Didn't you wonder where our dog went?" I sigh and try to look mournful. "Jumped from the window of a building. Must have been at least thirty stories." I hold the pen above my head. "Anna just jumped and," I drop the pen, "slpoosh," I say as the pen hits the ground. "Bye-bye doggie, hello mess." I shake my head, sadly, and then lean forward. "Have you ever seen a dog hit the pavement? It's like the dog explodes. Blood and fur everywhere." To be honest, I have no idea what happens to a dog when he falls. But luckily, neither does Maureen.

She looks ready to simultaneously cry and throw up. It is a strange expression to say the least. I pat her on the shoulder. "It is a traumatic experience," I say, trying really hard not to laugh. "I have pictures if you want to see." Evidently this sends Maureen over the edge and she starts crying. Hard.

"Tha—why...poor doggy woggy!" she blubbers. Crap, I forgot how sensitive she was about animals. I am so mentally challenged! She's wearing a damn "I Heart Whales" shirt!

"Maureen? Maureen, calm down," I say, trying to pat her arm comfortingly. It doesn't work. In fact, it kinda does the opposite of what I want.

"You!" she shouts angrily. "You made your dog so miserable that she killed herself! You monster!" she's standing now and her tear streaked face is twisted in rage. For anyone who wonders what a pissed off, animal loving, drama queen looks like, I'll tell you. It looks fucking scary. She starts walking towards me, like a villain out of a cheap horror flick. Still creepy, but at the same time laughable. And very capable of killing you.

"What, Maureen, it was a joke!" I say while trying to back away with out making in sudden movements. "Our dog ran away and to the best off my knowledge, it has not jumped from a window."

She stops and looks confused. Not an odd expression to me on her face. "A joke?" she repeats quietly, as if trying to comprehend how anyone could make a joke about that.

"Yes, Maureen," I say, feeling for my baseball bat. I can use it if she rushes me. "I know it was in bad taste. I'm sorry. I throw myself on the mercy of the court." She doesn't look any calmer. "I throw myself on the mercy of PETA?" I try, I'm sure sounding very pathetic.

Maureen glares at me, but she doesn't seem murderous anymore. Definitely a good thing. "You're a bad, bad person," she states before sitting down in my chair.

"Trust me, I know," I reply, sitting down carefully on my bed. "I can't believe you bought it though," I say before I can stop myself.

She shifts uncomfortably. "It could happen," she mutters.

I snort. "A dog jumping from a window ledge on the twentieth story. Please. That's about as likely as someone on the brink of death suddenly coming back to life. Impossible." I think for a moment. "Plus, it would be totally anticlimactic."

Maureen looks up at me. "The dog jumping?" she asks, confused.

"No, the death thingy."

"Oh." Maureen looked down at her feet again. "You're still a bad person," Maureen grumbles. "You know what?" She gets up and walks towards me. I reach for my bat. "You are going to get your comeuppance," she announces, poking me on the chest. "Karma's a bitch and someday, you will pay." She turns her nose up in the air and stomps out of my room. What a drama queen.

"I'll get my comeuppance? How?" I wonder out loud. I chuckle at Maureen. How the hell am I going to pay for telling a relative that my dog committed suicide?

Fifteen Years Later

Where is Evita? She normally greets me when I come home. And why is the window open? Oh shit, what the hell is that mess down there. It looks like blood and…fur?

Fucking karma.