All right, after all that hype...

Now you can all get disappointed when you actually get to read the green elephant story (NO I WILL NOT TYPE IN CAPS- SO THERE!)

But No Green Elephants

Once upon a time (that's how all the corny stories start...No?) in a shtetl which is bigger than Bardsville and smaller than Bardichev there lived a few hundred simple country folk. Unlike Bardsville, Bardichev, or Brooklyn, this was a really boring shtetl; and if not for the occasional Poritz riding through and trampling a few skunks en-route, chances are that the non-enterprising gentile population of this shtetl (actually it was probably more of a derfel than a shtetl, so says Chaim Yankel the Road-Kill butcher) would never have fleishigs, period.

One day a stranger came into the derfel's marketplace, and announced that he sells all-natural remedies that can cure any illness...

The stranger even offered to demonstrate his wares free of charge on the first lucky volunteer, in order to establish his credentials among the local populace. Being non-enterprising, as the gentile population of this derfel were, almost noone took up the stranger on his offer ... except for one. Janek the Panhandler (he used to attach the handles to pots and pans... that was his profession, says Chaim Yankel, whose Elter Zaide Chaim Yankel was the Road-Kill butcher in the next shtetl over is the one who told the story to his einikel -Grunem the Road-Kill Butcher of Brownsville...).

Janek the Panhandler stepped forward, and in hushed tones detailed his ailments to the dapper stranger....

"Eeeeh, What's up Doc? (sorry...I couldn't hold that back). See, the past couple a days, Ise beed sdeezid' and coughid' a tod...Fever...Stuffed Dose...I duddo what's goid' od ad all!"

The dapper doctor looked Janek straight in the eye, and said, "I see on the whites of your eyes that you have contracted the dreaded commonus coldus respiratorous infectiones!!!"

It was all Janek could do to keep from fainting....

"I have WHAT!!!"

"Listen to me sir... You are so lucky that we caught this in time, and to think if I wouldn't have just been passing through town...tsk tsk...."

"Doctor! What are you trying to say!!!"

"Look, I do have a special formula to treat what's ailing you, the regular price is about...a million zloties..."

"A MILLION WHAT!!!" (See Bard's I did use caps...)

"Look, today is your lucky day, you're the first customer in this village, and I said that the first case is on me. So here...take two of these white pills every six hours for the next two days, and make sure to drink plenty of fluids and rest... and hopefully it's not too late... and you'll pull through..."

Well, Janek did as told, and by day three the hamlet was buzzing with the news that the dapper doctor had saved Janek from near-Death!

It wasn't long before the dapper doctor had droves of the hapless hamlet inhabitants at his door...

TO BE CONTINUED...

But No Green Elephants (continued)

In a small hut at the outskirts of the little village lived a Yid, named Zanvil Schwartz. Rather appropriately, he was a Shtreimel-Macher, that is until he was struck with rheumatic athritis. As his age advanced he was forced to cut down shtreimel production to a bare minimum (you all know what kind of hard work shtreimel maching en-tails YUK,YUK,YUK) as he could no longer turn a road-killed possum carcass into a shtreimel that was fit to wear (Chaim-Yankel says that this was even way back then when a shtreimel was reminiscent of a cat's tail on a rainy day with a vevet yarmulke in the middle). So Zanvel and Devoirah -his unbearable, nagging, overbearing, machsheifa of a devoted wife -were left without a source of income.

Zanvil tried a number of ideas that didn't require a good set of hands, such as Kretchme-Keeping, but since the non-enterprising gentile population of the derfel were non-enterprising even for a group of non-enterprising gentiles, the debts mounted and the gains lost. So Zanvil was forced to close the Kretchme and sell his house in the center of the derfel, and move out to a hut (Chaim Yankel says that some say that it was more of a shack than a hut) at the outskirts of the derfel. But our hero Zanvil was not left without a penny, he moved out to his hut accompanied by two precious treasures (In Devoirah's opinion-and boy, was Devoirah opinionated - Zanvil possessed three treasures).

The first and most precious of the treasures, the apple of Zanvil's eye -the only reason he kept waking up in the morning (don't tell Devoirah) - his lovely, talented, and pious daughter Ruchi. At fifteen, she would soon be in need of a fitting dowry. For his only daughter, Zanvil was not willing to compromise, and so he put away over the years what grew into his second treasure -5000 golden coins -a tidy sum by any standard. Penniless as he was, he didn't think of touching this treasure, which he kept buried deep in the forest, where it waited for Ruchi to come of age. Even rendered penniless, Zanvil and Devoirah refused to touch that stash, and preferred to sell their luxurious (by non-enterprising gentile standards) two room hovel in the Derfel and move to a hut on the outskirts of town.

TO BE CONTINUED...   

beautiful EBD! (as usual)

I can't believe that noone knows this story....

Though it could be that it was never told the way I am telling it...

Stay tuned...

... even if we do know it, would we want to spoil the fun??

But No Green Elephants (part III)

Zanvil came home after a long day of looking for parnussah, at parnussah, at things that look like parnussah- but no such luck. He didn't come home emptyhanded, for when he saw that his prospects of employment as a day-laborer were bleak (even Grunem the Road-Kill butcher said that he had no use for him) he grabbed a hitch with a buggy that was making the trip into the nearby shtetl, where he proceeded to make the rounds of all the shteeblach by Mincha-Ma'ariv. Satisfied with the proceeds, he made his way to the town square, and looked for a hitch back home. But none was forthcoming.

Well, Zanvil was nobody's fool, it was cold outside -and that sure did no wonders for his rheumatic athritis -so he made his way back to the Shomrei Shabbos Sheel (where the Gabbai announces hitches as they become available- just without a microphone, I did say once upon a time -didn't I?) where he could warm his aching bones with a steaming cup of tea.

As Zanvil entered the Sheel, a breathtaking sight caught his eyes (soundtrack=violins galore, angel wings flapping etc. etc.).

There he sat... in a corner, shuckling over his stender....his high brow furrowed in concentration....his deep blue eyes burning with passion as they swallowed one line of Gemara after another...absentmindedly toying with a golden linke paye... RUCHI'S BASHERTE!!! Zanvil was sure, there can be no mistake...

"Tell me...", said Zanvil in hushed tones to the first person his hand could grab ahold of and shuckling him like a leelav (or klopping him like a hoishannna), "W-h-o i-s tha-t Bachur...o-o-o-over there?"

"Well", said the hapless passerby, "I'd be glad to tell you... But would you mind letting go of my arm first? You're KILLING me!!!"

"Oh, Sorry". said Zanvil.

"Thank you kindly. And for your information, that is Yankel Friedenstein... the pride of Volozhin and his mother, Channa who they call 'the Taddeikes Nisteres' and his father is Hershel the Jeweler who's known as 'The terror of the Diamond Exchange' and alos happens to be the Roish HaKuhel around these parts..."

"Aha, and who's his shver?"

"Shver? He's all of seventeen years old, and he might get to seventy and still be single!"

"Aza zeese bucher'l should become an alter Bucher? I'll bet there are shadchunim who are killing each other trying to get into his father's door!"

"They were, but you know -Hershel isn't really the worlds easiest person you know...and he made it clear that with his expertise in precious gems-  he won't sell this טכשיט (I tried to write that in English, but it came out something like 'tackichsaa') for anything less than 10,000 golden coins. Yankel may be worth it, but noone in the whole province has that kind of money to put down for a nadan."

And with that the passerby walked away as quickly as he could, rubbing his sore arm, and leaving our friend Zanvil deep in thought....

TO BE CONTINUED...

BTW- Today is

DAY 14

WE ARE STILL TRUCKIN'...

AND BUSY AS A BEE...

I THOUGHT THAT THE STORY WON"T TAKE MORE THAN ONE LITTLE POST AND IT'S ALREADY BECOME A TRILOGY...

BUT HEY...

THERE'S A MORAL OR TWO AT THE VERY END SO MAYBE IT'S KEDAI TO KEEP ON TRUCKIN' WITH ME...

(THESE CAPS ARE IN TRIBUTE TO MY DEAR FRIEND AND RABBI- THE ONE WHO MADE POSTING IN CAPS A CLASS ACT.... YOU ALL KNOW WHO HE IS)

YOURS ALWAYS,

EBD

ICH KEN OWCHET!

caps lock 'n load

EBD, i hope the story doesn't finish anytime soon
if it stops i might have to go back to buying Mishpacha-Ami-Hamodia-Binah for my reading enjoyment

I can't wait for the part when KHALEEDs elter zaydeh gets into the mix

Who is he

A fekketter back in the HAYM was an oisnam

Ebd you are

Keffffaldigggg!!

Was the elter bubbeh channeh a mudernster her shpitzel was ferd hoor not the rug remnanat.

ZemirosShabbos wrote on 13 Jan 2011 19:12:


This is a REAL bardichever talmid!  :D

(in the bathroom i have the AA big book)

shhhhhhhhhhh...
it's under two possum skins

ZemirosShabbos wrote on 13 Jan 2011 19:12:


I can't believe that you're putting those in the same league as me!  >

I may be a recovering addict -but I do have my self respect.  :'(

:-[ For shame! :-[ 

My Creative Writing teacher would turn over in his grave if he knew what a short yardstick people use to measure my [strike]riding[/strike] writing.

bist gerecht!

let me re-phrase: i might have to buy the Equestrian Monthly Journal again...