For Selma, because it makes her laugh and laugh and laugh.
Jachupitzville was in for a Simcha extraordinaire. Forty nine years and three hundred and sixty days ago the village celebrated the wedding of Uncle Chona son of Great Uncle Noach to Aunty Rifka daughter Great Aunt Malka. What a celebration to look forward to, the excitement grew for weeks. There were wagons and carriages arriving daily from all four corners of Lithuania. The preparations were in full swing, geese were being fattened chickens chosen and all kinds of delicacies were being prepared.
Muma Breina was covered in flour as she toiled for hours in the hot kitchen making her world renowned (who would dare to question her claim) lokshen, so many eggs that the chickens were limping already from the high demand, and the schmaltz, oi vey, who could handle more than a single helping. They all managed at least two helpings, just so as not to upset Muma Breina.
Bobba Bashka from the brides side, not to be out done, made her prize winning Kiska served with her even more popular Patcha. As we all know, Patcha is a delicacy specific to Jachupitzville. Only in a village of such renown would a world class chef manage to turn out such a dish. It takes hours to take a cows hoof, clean it of all hair, boil it for hours in an old iron cauldron and then strain it and pour it into dishes with sliced hard boiled eggs and allow it to set into a firm jelly. This concoction was then cut into squares and served with kick ass strong mustard.
The morning of the wedding the Chupa was set up and the tables groaned under the plates of Meat, Chollent, Kugel, fresh baked challa and all the other delicacies that each woman made as their own specialty. The old Zaide brought out his personal stock of home brewed wine, vodka and mead. The musicians were ready and welcomed the Chossin and Calla to the Chupa.
Mazel-Tov's filled the air and then the Kletzma broke into lively music and the party began. Dancing and making lechaimÌs together with the hora lasted late into the night.
For the past forty nine years and three hundred and sixty days there was a ritual in the Chona and Rifka Home. At precisely five thirty in the morning Uncle Chona would roll over onto his stomach arch his back and expel a huge volume of gas through his tochus. I kid you not, Aunty Rifka would sit up and yell, Ïone day you will blow your guts outÓ.Ü His response was Ïyou must be jokingÓ This went on every dayÜ year after year without fail.
To celebrate the fifty golden years of marriage, it was decided to have a dinner party for the whole family, and as you well know, this is an opportunity not to be missed, a chance to show off your culinary skills.Ü
The day before the party aunt Rifka was woken by the five thirty salute, and with her comment of Ïyou will blow your guts outÓ and his retort Ï you must be jokingÓÜ she made her way the kitchen to begin preparing for the big day.
The thirty pound turkey in all itÌs glory was of the old fashioned kind, complete with feet, feathers and innards. As aunt Rifka worked on the turkey she developed a small smile on her face,Ü started to chuckle and then broke into a giggling fit.
She was about to show uncle Chona she was not joking.
Stealthily she snuck into their bedroom. Uncle Chona was fast asleep snoring and at peace with the world. With great care she slowly placed her surprise ( ah yes you were correct, the turkey guts) into the back of his pajama pants and then, very quietly slipped out of the room and went back to the kitchen to wait.
The kitchen door suddenly burst open and there a white faced uncle Chona stood, trembling and hardly able to speak. ÏRifka, RifkaÓ he stuttered, Ïyou were right, oi were you ever rightÏ with sweat pouring down his face he ran to her.
ÏChona are you okÓ she asked, Ïwhat happenedÓ looking around wildly he stuttered Ïremember all these years you told me I would blow myÜ guts out!, well it finally happened, oi, it happenedÏ. She asked ÏChona what can I do to help?Ó. The tears were running down her cheeks now, and she could hardly catch her breath. Thank G-d she thought, to have been blessed with such a strong bladder!
Reassuringly and with an air of great accomplishment he smiled, holding up his middle finger and proudly exclaimed-
ÏNot to worry Rifka, with HashemÌs help and this finger I managed to get it all back in.
The lesson
So as you all know till this very day, a middle finger held up in the air tells you that the owner of that finger has a serious tochus problem and we know where that finger has just been and why he is holding it up so far from his nose.
With respect
Oupa Bas