My Karma

By Koko Bandit

Disclaimer: The show is created and written by Mitchell Hurwitz, and this is merely written for my entertainment. The title also belongs to a Scrub's episode… also SUPPORT THE BLUTHS!

1: The stranger

The Bluth matriarch was sipping on her fourth cocktail of the day, when the doorbell rang. Out of sorts and unaccustomed to having unexpected visitors, Lucille chose to ignore it rationalizing that some unpleasant salesman or worse, Jehovah's Witness was at the door.

Out in the hallway at the Bluth's door, Alice, a 22-year old grad student at UCLA stood perplexed. Her information from the Adoption Agency verified that indeed her younger brother had been adopted by a woman of the name Lucille Bluth living at this exact address. After the fourth consecutive knock, the door opened a few inches to reveal a tall boyish man.

"It doesn't look like a Jewish evangelist, mother!" He called behind him, and opened the door wider to reveal an older woman lying prostrate on her Victorian couch.

"Hello, I'm looking for a Lucille Bluth?"

"Tell her we no longer do charity work!"

After the last Bluth fundraiser which raised only a measly twenty three dollars (courtesy of George Michael's banana stand) and a disastrous riot, the family was forced to sign a clause promising the termination of any future fundraisers.

"I'm sorry, mother says--."

"I don't want money! I'm here because--."

"Alright! I suppose a personal check will do? God, the third world is just outside our front door isn't it?"

"Excuse me? I'm not here to solicit money from you, my name is Alice. I was born and orphaned a few minutes from L.A., and recently found my birth mother gave my little brother up for adoption abroad—to Orange County, to your home. His name is Jae Hee?"

"Never heard of him." Lucille poured herself another drink as Buster; her youngest son sidled next to her and whispered none-too-quietly.

"Mother, I think she is talking of that boy you took in--to make me jealous? You remember…"

"What nonsense are you talking about Buster?" Rolling her eyes, Lucille motioned Alice forward and whispered also none-too-quietly, "We think he may be mentally challenged."

"Mother!"

"He's a little boy. Not even 16-years-old yet. He is an Asian boy with dark hair, eyes, and is shy around strangers?" Alice trailed off as Lucille's eyes narrowed in recognition.

"I suppose that sounds familiar."

"Isn't that the boy you took in a while ago to replace Buster? What was his name?" George Bluth Sr. had entered the room at this opportune moment looking for ketchup to top his hotdog.

"So he is here! I'm so glad."

"Yes well, he was here. For the life of me, I can't remember where I put it—him."

"You'll have to excuse her; she's probably on her fifth martini for today. That's how Mother solves her problems." Buster's face distorted as suppressed memories surfaced momentarily.

"Try Michael's house. He lives a few blocks away. I think I saw him there, in the walls once before I saw… the mole."

Not quite understanding, but excited by information regarding her brother's location, Alice took down the directions to her new destination. After she had left, Lucille closed in on George Sr.

"How could you do this to me? You take everything from me!"

"What are you talking about? This ketchup?" George Sr was extremely confused, and rightly so, since Lucille often lashed out for absolutely no reason when drunk.

"Not the ketchup you bleep I mean, the boy, what's-his-name! You saw how much I was enjoying his company, how he was making me happy, and you became jealous! That's why you gave that meddling girl Michael's address, didn't you!" In her anger, Lucille jabbed at her husband with her drink hand and succeeded in sloshing half the contents of her martini over his shirt.

"Oh God—Now will you look at this mess? That's just terrific! I just came out to get some ketchup. You're drunk Lucille!"

"And you're high!"

In the corner of the room, Buster was curled into a ball and rocking gently as the turn of events had begun to unearth years of therapy intended to help Buster function properly in society.

Meanwhile, at the other Bluth home, Michael was hosting a luncheon with his family's lawyers, Bob Loblaw and Barry Zuckerkorn. They were discussing the Bluth's present precarious legal and financial situation, a norm, ever since the Bluth patriarch had been indicted for embezzling funds.

"Listen, Michael, as your attorney I have to advise you to stay out of any more legal trouble. You're up to your neck in debts as it is, and the court is still keeping prosecuting you for your father's crimes, an option."

"I understand that, and rest assured the family has promised to desist in aiding fugitives. Ha-ha." Michael paused as nobody seemed amused but himself and redirected the conversation, "Anyway, Bob, what you doing here? You were hired to handle Lindsey and Tobias's divorce case, business law has always been handled by Barry."

"I'm waiting for Lindsey. We're having an early dinner today before the trial."

"Of course, that sounds like something Lindsey would do… And the conflict of interest doesn't bother you?"

At that moment, the doorbell rang and Michael excused himself. Before he could get to the door, Maeby intercepted. Having decided to drop out of school, she accidentally stumbled onto a job as a studio producer. With her job taking up most of her time, Maeby had missed too many classes, however, and the school sent a representative to speak to her father about her lack of attendance. Getting an early warning from George Michael who'd overheard this volunteering at the school offices, she raced home to intercept the messenger.

"I got it. You should get back to your lunch."

Eyeing his niece suspiciously, Michael made his way back to his luncheon. "Listen, I hope you're not getting yourself in any trouble Maeby. Our family is in enough trouble as it is, and I need you to be my wingman."

"I thought I was your wingman." George Michael looked crushed as he'd overheard the conversation from the kitchen.

"Of course, you are George Michael, but you know, a wingman needs to have eyes and ears everywhere. They need to be on top of everything, kind of sneaky. You're not that kind of guy. You're more—" Michael rummaged for the words as he ruffled his son's hair "of a George Michael. Alright, I have to get back to Barry and Bob, but you kids keep out of trouble."

As Michael left to attend to his guests, George Michael miserably dragged himself back into his room.

Clear of witnesses, Maeby opened the door to find a pretty, slim brunette bemusedly peering into the windows.

"Hi! I'm looking for--."

"Yeah, I know, and he's not here. In fact, he's never here; you must have gotten the wrong address."

"I don't think so. I got this address from Lucille Bluth? She said he would be at Michael's house." Maeby inwardly cursed her luck; the one day Gangy is actually lucid…

"Alright. He was here, but he left. Well, more like, he was kicked out a while back. Haha, you know how that is--." Receiving only worried blank stares, Maeby decided to plow on, "Anyways, he isn't here. Who knows where he is. The last time he came back, dressed as a maid, just to sleep here again, it was pretty pathetic—and embarrassing."

"He's just a child!"

"Well, he sure acts like one, doesn't he? Anyways, thanks for dropping by, but he can't see you. By the way, you wouldn't be interested in a minor role in a movie would you? You've definitely got the look down. The part calls for an attractive girl in her twenties who's searching for her identity. Yeah, it's been overdone but--… alright think on it. Here's my card."

Maeby closed the door and met Michael leading his guests out as the meeting had ended.

"Thank you gentlemen for stopping by, oh right, Bob, you're still waiting on Lindsey."

"No problem, Michael, always a pleasure serving your family. So is your kid going to have his bar mitzvah soon, huh? George Michael is it?"

"George Michael is 14, Barry, and we're not Jewish—Gob, Barry came over for a luncheon meeting, a meeting you completely missed… probably out with this young lady…" Michael, upon opening the front door for Barry, found Gob outside with the same girl, Maeby had mistaken as the school counselor a few minutes before.

"Hey Michael, this little lady and I just met, but not to worry… we'll be getting it on soon enough." Gob leered, and finally having endured enough psychological torture for the day, Alice frowned and shoved him an arms distance from her.

"I don't know what is wrong with you people, you've obviously hailed in from crazy town. I'm going to find out what happened to my little brother and after that, I'm bringing your family to court."

"Not another sexual harassment suit…"

"No, no. Gob, I don't think that's what this is about this time. Excuse me, but what did you mean by your brother?" Michael was worried, lunch had just ended not less than five minutes ago and the Bluth family was being threatened by legal action, yet again.

"That's what I've been trying to get across, my name is Alice. I got your address from Lucille Bluth, I believe she's your mother? She adopted my brother a couple of months ago, and she said he was living with you--."

"What is going on Michael? Because you know, brother, that I'd do anything for the family. Even if it means…putting my life on the line to get some… top secret information." Gob whispered. Michael unclasped Gob's hands from his lapels and calmly led him into the house.

"Gob, she's telling us all the information right now. I think you'd be better off inside. Why don't you go tell Lindsey that Bob is waiting in the living room for their date?"

"Date? Is Lindsey seeing Bob on the sly?"

"No…and don't call it that, ever. She and Tobias are divorcing, remember? It was long time coming, but they finally decided to separate. Bob is their divorce lawyer. You know, I could have sworn we just had this conversation the other day."

"Well, you know I never listen to anything you have to say. I try to fill my mind with things of actual import. Like the latest illusions… which reminds me…"

"No… No, No--." A spurt of lighter fluid, and flaming tie later… Michael returned to his porch to find Barry and Alice chatting pleasantly.

"Sorry about that… Gob, he gets a little overexcited sometimes. It's just better to disregard those comments, better yet, anything he ever says or does. So… where were we?"

"We were discussing my legal options, and Barry tells me I have an 80 chance of success in court."

Rendered speechless, Michael chose to glare at Barry who innocently averted his gaze.

"Oh does he now? Well, Barry's been our family's attorney for a long time, and that probably is about as true as my mother's nose."

"It's just… I've had a really hard time growing up. Not having a family, going from home to home. It was hard. My father died a year ago, before I even got to know him. I was one of the many illegitimate children attending the funeral, and my mother… I just contacted her recently. She won't even see me; I'm just a big drunken mistake she'd made in the eighties. Then I hear I have a half brother somewhere in the States, someone who is as alone as I am in this world… and I just—I just want to find him." Alice paused as Barry had begun to sob uncontrollably. Excusing himself, he rushed into the house as Gob, who'd been eavesdropping, walked out.

"And I thought our family was dysfunctional, am I right, Michael? Haha…" Gob trailed off as his younger brother shot him a grave look and began to lead Alice into the house.

--$--