Karmimps

She was always to blame.

Imogen as most six-year-olds trying to get their point across, was ever boisterous, “It’s the Karmimps!”

“You invented that word, now stop with that foolishness and accept responsibility for your actions young lady.”

She sniffed, “it’s only gonna get worse you know. You keep pointing the finger at me and it gives you more bad karma, then the Karmimps make you pay.” Her down trodden head shook slowly, evoking disbelief.

She looked so darn cute he felt he must humour her, “tsk… All right, tell me all about these Kar… wud you call them?”

As ebullient as a Cherubkarm, “the Karmimps, Daddy. You know about good and bad karma right?”

Snickering and thinking this should be interesting, he goaded in a tender voice, “of course Legwarmer, go on.”

“Well Cherubkarms spread good karma and look like happy, cartoon baby angels.” Her face turned devious and vexed as she continued, “Karmimps are really nasty ’n testy tricksters that push bad karma. I bet that’s why Mrs. Applebum’s dog is so mean too.” She added, not noticing her body language yelled it was an afterthought.

Having a difficult time holding back his laughter — Mrs. Applebum was really Mrs. Applebaum -but it somehow suited — he mimicked his best questioning face, which looked more comical than quizzical, “ohh really and what do they look like?”

“Uh…” Caught off guard she chose anger to deflect, “I just told you mean and nasty!” She calmed herself and tried to pretend it a facade — hands ’n face moved as a parody of claws and furiousness — “and testy like… sheesh, and you say I don’t listen,” she shrugged with elbows bent, palms up and out, “like imps.”

“So, you’re saying it was the Karmimps that spilled the bowl of whole wheat cereal on your Mother’s work papers?” — Imogen detested whole wheat.

“No silly they wouldn’t just spill, they would pour it on purpose.” She tucked her head some, displaying her remorseful bashfulness. “Probably cuz Mom got mad at me for no reason earlier in the bathroom — It wasn’t me that dropped her lipstick in the toilet, you know — they do things for the karma, like Karma Police.” She finished with a complementary, ‘he has to be buying this’ smile.

“I see, so when something bad happens it’s the Karmimps and when good things happen it’s the… wud you call them again?”

“The Cherubkarms.”

“And the Cherubkarms… how do they do all the good?”

“They whisper in peoples ears so low you don’t even hear it but they do it anyway. Things like; don’t spank Immy, give Immy a hug, give Immy a kiss. And give Immy a doughnut for breakfast — stop feeding Immy whole wheat, you know the good stuff and it works too.” She proclaimed while crossing her fingers behind her back as her head vigorously bounced ‘yes’. It was clear she hoped the ‘uh huh I’m telling you so - so it must be true’ she willfully emitted would last long enough to get a double chocolate dip for breakfast.

Scratching his head he asked, “hmm, if I don’t give you any trouble for Mom’s paperwork — that’s good karma right — does that mean the Cherubkarms will magic you to be a good daughter?”

Huffing and stomping toward and then up the stairs all the way to her room, “Grrr… You’re making fun of me! Leave me alone! I’m going to go play with my barbies!”

“Hug the Cherubkarms while you’re up there, maybe you’ll turn into a good girl,” he called after her midst his snorting laugh.