Challah

            I went over to my lady friends house. I got there a little early. She wasn’t home from work yet. I was parked in front of her house listening to the radio when I noticed and older orthodox Jew with a long gray beard and a black hat staring at me. There was a heavyset woman in a black dress standing next to him. She was staring at me as well. I turned my attention away from them and went back to listening to the radio.  When I looked over again they were still standing stiff looking at me, like a cat stands stiff before they attack. Just then my lady friend pulled up and parked behind me. I got out of my car to greet her. She was getting out of her car when the old man rushed at us. He kind of corralled us.

            “Are any of you Jewish?” he asked excitedly.

            “I’m Jewish but he’s not,” my girl said.

            The old man turned his attention to me. “My daughter tripped over the light and it’s the Sabbath, can you help me?” the man said in a voice that sounded like Woody Allen mocking a Jew. “You want trousers? We have trousers!”  

            “Sure,” I said

            “Oh, thank you, I’ll give you some fresh challah in exchange.”

            I wasn’t sure what challah was but I followed him into his house anyway.

            The old man led the way. It was a very nice house. We walked through the kitchen toward the backyard where we came upon twenty people sitting at a long table. They looked at me with some interest. The old man pointed at an extension cord that had been unplugged. Apparently the man’s daughter had tripped over it. I crouched down and took the extension cord in my hand and plugged it back in, nothing to it. The lights came back on. The crowd cheered. I took a bow.

            “Don’t forget your challah,” the man said as I walked past the kitchen.