Holy Cow

29 JUST A LITTLE OFF THE TOP

After about fifteen minutes, we made our way back to the mohel. The door opened, and there stood Shalom, a makeshift diaper around his waist and a lollipop in his mouth. If it’s possible for a pig to be paler and whiter and pinker than usual, he was paler and whiter and pinker than usual.

“That was quick,” Tom said, trying to make light.

Shalom’s face was ashen. “My poor schvantz. We shall never speak of what happened in there. Is that clear?”

Tom and I both nodded, stifling laughter.

“Ever,” Shalom said, “never ever ever. That man, that man is a butcher! I’ve seen things. I tell you I’ve seen things a pig should not see. Things that cannot be unseen. What just happened never happened.”

We started away. “Let me get this straight,” Tom said, tongue firmly in beak. “Not a word ever about the mohel and the shtupper?”

Shalom, limping slightly, hissed, “Don’t say that word.”

“C’mon, forget it. It’s already such a schlong schlong time ago.” Tom was convulsing.

“Schmuck.”

“What word? Mohel?” I asked.

“Oh, everybody’s a comedian!” grunted Shalom.

Tom couldn’t help himself. “Never Say Mohel… wasn’t that a James Bond movie-Never Say Mohel Again?”

“Enough with the pupik jokes, you putz.”

A few moments of silence, then: “Moo-yl,” I lowed.

“Zip it!”

“What? I was mooing,” I said. “You can’t ask a cow not to moo-yl.”

“Not funny, guys, my diaper is chafing. You goyim are all alike.”