My Karma Haunts Me

An Exclusive Daily Balance Confession

by Amarillo da Vaca

His name was Arnold. He was 1-year-old. He was beautiful -- the most beautiful parakeet ever.

I loved playing with Arnold. I would let him out of his cage, and watch him fly. He would land on my finger, and then crawl up my arm and poop on my shoulder.

I know that my Karma is the result of what happened to Arnold. I know this, and I accept my fate.

You see, I have never had a good, healthy relationship with another woman. One way or another, they all end in disaster.

There was the time I found out my girl was cheating on me ... on Christmas day.

There was the break-up ... right after a tsunami struck out town, and killed 13 people, including my father.

There was the marathon I ran ... when I reached the finish line, there were flowers waiting for me, and a note: "You're too good for me. I can't stand it. Let's just be friends. I'll call you when I'm ready."

God has forsaken me! but I deserve it. You see, I killed Arnold.

I didn't mean to. Really. But, unfortunately, his precious parakeet blood stains my hands, and I have no one to blame but myself.

It was another fun afternoon. I let Arnold out of his cage. He landed on my hand.

I began to stroke his head, and feel his neck. He didn't seem to like it, but to be honest, I thought it was fun to scare the bird a little bit. No harm, no foul, right?

And this wasn't the first time that I jokingly choked the bird and twisted his head. I didn't think anything would go wrong -- after all, I'd done it before, right? Birds can twist their heads 180 degrees all by themselves, right?

Wrong. His body went limp in my hands, and he was dead.

I tried to revive him by tapping him, hoping against hope that he had merely fallen asleep in my ever-so-gentle hands. But it was no use -- he was dead.

I put him back in the cage, and waited for my parents to come back home. When they arrived, I pointed to the cage, and cried. My dad placed Arnold inside an Entenmanns's Donut box and buried him in the front yard.

My parents did not question my story ("I found him that way"). They figured parakeets were weak creatures, prone to sudden death.

If only they knew....

I am now confessing this sin in the hopes of redemption, and freedom from my Karma. Please, whoever you are -- Unseen Hand, Twister of Fate, Satan, God, Buddha, Vishnu, whatever -- please spare your repentant son. I will never kill again. I swear.

I will donate 10% of my earnings to Greenpeace. I'll read the "Animal Man" trade paperback. Whatever it takes. Please forgive me, so that I can live a normal life, like all my successful friends.

Please free me from this vicious cycle of Karma. Please, I beg of you, whoever you are.

Arnold, I am sorry.