Karma Deficient
...ner deserving of the lips of Nietzche, with a quick and sincere, "…because they are still people, and who is gonna' help them anyway? The Christians?" I had already called his cell phone twice and received no answer, but although I know he is a sucker for playing jokes on me, this seemed a little different than his usual style. Maybe he just got a little too high after leaving the kitchen and is just listening to the radio in his car oblivious to his prior engagements. This kind of behavior was not rare, in fact it was sadly quite common. I once found him passed out in his car outside of our local Blockbuster video store. Drugs and alcohol are his Achilles heel, and he knows it, but finds nothing wrong with it. Since I met the infamous Jonathan Nolturo in my sophomore english class, we have been best friends. His life gives testament of how compassion and charity can be intricately entwined with hard core partying and basic, useless fun. John is always a gentleman to everyone he comes across, showing all what the golden rule actually looks like in practice. His father is a retired philosophy professor who immigrated from Italy, and his mother is a retired nurse from Medina. They now live in my hometown of Wadsworth, Ohio, in an average sized, two-story house with earth tone shutters and siding. Their yard is a testament to their family's dedication and work ethic, with its perfectly straight lines and evergreen grass. John has a naturally sculpted physique, that his mother says he gets from her grandfather, dark brown eyes, black hair, and a natural tan that makes many people jealous. I myself have known him too long to even notice his looks, but on many occasions, I have had to put up with the nagging of girls at parties wanting me to introduce them to him. I cannot say that I do not find that annoying or resent that fact. Nevertheless, John never lets his appearance or popularity affect him, he never ditches me when we are together, and we only hang out with girls together when we are on a double date. He is the only person I have ever been able to depend upon. For even my parents have blown me off and forgotten me. Therefore, what do I think about how he is blowing me off right now? How and why are exactly what I am thinking, nothing more, and nothing less. Now it is almost 9:20 and Jordan and I are pissed, forget why John is not here, we need to ask ourselves why we are still here. Mad and quite possibly frost bitten, we make the short trip back to our car and head home, where we will probably play some old-school Nintendo 64. The entire way home I cannot help but think about why John would stand us up like this. John is like a brother to me, and his family is more accepting of me than my own. John is incapable of inflicting actual hurt or despair upon anyone, he is too kind and sensitive. Not gay but definitely toward what many jocks would define as sort of being a sympathetic pussy. The way people view my best friend has no importance in the end and now that Jordan and me have returned home, I think I might just resign myself from video game boredom and head to bed early. I will give John a call in the morning; hopefully he has something to say then. I awake from my state of unconscious bliss to find myself hunting for a phone buried beneath a large crust like shell of scattered laundry on my floor. When I finally pinpoint the phone, I grab it and answer with a very rustic and gargled hello. The line is silent. I pull the phone from my ear and make sure the power bulb glows red signify...