While at the beach, a few young girls in their late teens plopped their blankets a few feet diagonal from where a few friends of mine and I were sitting. I rarely mind people being around, and can usually talk to anyone, but these girls wore out their welcome rather quickly.

With open mouthed gum chewing smacking away between bitchy comments about every person that crossed their path, my friend and I were starting to lose patience. The memory of their stupid little matching loose hair buns vibrating in tandem with their head bobbing laughter agitates me still. They went on relentlessly.

“Oh my God, WTF is she wearing? Get a bathing suit that fits. Gross.”

“Eww, he is nasty. Literally disgusting.”

“Look at this one coming over here, why is he with her?”

Sure, they had decent bodies, but their self-adoration combined with their obnoxious cackling mouths made them hideous. That’s okay, Karma arrived just in time. A close depiction of our hero:

With perfect precision, Karma and a few of his friends drop a bursting white and black shit bomb right on their backs.

Commence screeching.

It is now running down their backs, and it is glorious!

My friends and I laughed so loudly, and when the girls turned toward us, I said, “Wow, that’s gross.”

In Italy, birds pooping on you is good luck. In this neck of the U.S, it is Karma.