A Comedy of AR's

Chapter 56
CHAPTER 156 .......... My Date With Putz – Part Three

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CHAPTER  156

Putz gritted his teeth, his eyes bulged, his nostrils flared … and then he growled.

*** Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh!!! ***

  He didn’t use any words like when I do my five ‘no’s’. 

I hoped he wouldn’t draw his parent’s attention by the noise he made.  They’re probably used to hearing it anyway.  This boy’s fire hose had a lot to shoot … though it paled in comparison with my St. Thomas blob.  I caught most of it in the waste basket.

“Damn!” he muttered loudly.  “That’s insane!  I never even touched my dick.  And you say nobody else knows about this?”

I shrugged.  “Not many.”

“Well, I hope you’re done with me, Dr. Mengele, cuz I’m starved.”

“Pizza sounds good, Putz … but maybe you should dress more modestly if we’re going back downstairs.”

“God, what was I thinking when I invited you over?”

“You were probably thinking about how we could improve upon our night at the movies.  And so far, I think we have.  Who else could have introduced you to bubbles and coregasms?”

“And you shaved my pubes too.  Because of that, this would have been a great night for me to go get a hernia surgery.  Let’s head downstairs.”

“No shirt?  No shoes?”

“Screw it.”

We sat at the kitchen table and Putz grabbed his phone.  “You good with Marco’s, Precious?”

“I’m good with any pizza.”

“Extra large deluxe?  It’s got pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, onions, and peppers … and we’ll add a two-liter of root beer.”

“Sounds great, Putz.”

He rung them up.  “Okay, they’re close by.  Should be delivered in twenty minutes.”

After he hung up, I had a question about that.  “I thought you guys weren’t allowed to have pepperoni and sausage … you know, pork items?”

“Sorry, Precious … In this house, we’re not meshuga.”

“Huh?  Me-shoo-gah?”

“It’s Yiddish for ‘crazy’.  The Ortho’s don’t even let their kids watch Porky Pig Cartoons.”

“What are Ortho’s?”

“Orthodox Jews.”

“Oh, are those the people with black hats and the strings?”

“Yeah, as neighbors they’re okay, but we don’t mix.  They don’t consider members of the reformed temple as actually Jewish.”

“Why not?”

“Precious, I’m going to give you some very good advice.  The fundamentalists of any religion have a couple things in common.  One is that there’s too many rules to follow, and two is that they rarely have fun.”

“No fun?” I exclaimed.  “But that’s me-shoo-gah.”

“You’re catching on quick, Precious.”

At that moment we heard a car pull into the driveway.  We knew it was too soon to be the pizza, but a moment later, the front door open and closed.

“Mom, Dad!  I’m home!” a girl’s voice called.

“Aw, shit,” Putz said, shaking his head.  “Our evening is probably ruined now.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

The girl walked straight to the kitchen … then straight to where I was sitting.

She was taller than Putz, had brown hair, and was pretty talkative.  “Oh, wow Putz!  Your guest is here!  So this is Precious?!  Please stand up so I can take a look at you!  Wow!  I have to say, Precious, that this dress looks absolutely gorgeous on you.  And you look gorgeous in the dress, too!”

I replied with a simple “Thank you.”

Putz was obviously not thrilled by her entrance.  “Precious, this is my extremely obnoxious fourteen-year-old sister, Rachel.  And Rachel, I expect you to be polite to my guest.  She’ll be staying overnight, and if you harass her or us, I will find ways to make your life miserable.”

His sister scoffed, “Putz, I fail to see how that could be any different than the last twelve years.”  Rachel came closer and held both of my upper arms.  “And where did you find such a darling little shiksa?

“Olive Garden.”

I was rapidly expanding my vocabulary.  “What’s a shiksa?”

“Any non-Jewish girl,” Putz answered.

“Why are you guys just sitting in the kitchen?”

“We ordered pizza,” her brother answered.  “And yes, you can have some if you don’t give us a hard time.  Otherwise, eat someplace else.”

“That’s fine,” she replied.  “Precious, would it be okay if I asked you a personal question?”

Putz pointed a finger at Rachel.  “I’m warning you.”

“It’s okay, Putz.  I won’t be rude.”

“It depends on the question,” I answered her.

“Alright then, Precious.  So my question is … When you get your period, do you prefer tampons or pads?”

(That was actually an easy one for me.  I had spent some time as an eleven-year-old girl and I learned a few things along the way … such as why I hated being a girl.)

I answered, “Rachel, I always prefer tampons over pads.  I use the largest one on my first day since that’s when the flow is heaviest … and I try to tuck the string a little farther up so that I won’t pee on it.”

I enjoyed seeing the look of shock and puzzlement on the girl’s face.  I didn’t go into anything about cucumbers.  Then the doorbell rang.  I followed Putz to the front door because I didn’t want to be stuck alone with Rachel.

I commented, “Ten bucks is a pretty good tip for one pizza.”

“It’s ‘tzedakah’ … something that helps the giver as much as the receiver.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure I get it.”

“Look at it this way … If I died tonight, god would say ‘Hey, Putz, you were a real asshole during that night at the movies, but you did tip the pizza guy pretty good, so we’ll call it even’.”

“Ah, so even if you’re reformed, you still believe in god?”

“Albert Einstein referred to god as the ‘old one’.”

I noted, “And Einstein was Jewish.”

“Yeah, so let’s leave it at that.”

The three of us sat at the table and began to wolf down our triangles.  This was a great pizza.

Rachel turned to me and asked, “So Pecious, is Putz your boyfriend?”

I answered, “I have a lot of friends.”

“So who are your other boyfriends?”

“I’m not serious with anyone.”

“Have you ever had sex, Precious?”

“Have you, Rachel?”

Putz’s sister was taken aback by my reply.  “Ooooooooooooo, you’re a sassy little thing, aren’t you?”

Putz was getting a bit steamed by his sister’s line of questioning.  “Rachel, do not ask Precious any more personal questions.”

“Fine,” the girl replied.  “So Precious, has Putz invited you to his bar mitzvah yet?”

“I’m not concerened, Rachel.”

“Well, if you came to the temple service, would you sit in the womens section or the mens section?”

“Don’t answer that, Precious!” yelled Putz.  “My sister is just messin’ with you.  A reformed temple lets everyone sit together.”

“I’m learning a lot tonight,” I commented.

“So Precious,” the girl continued.  “What’s your bra size?”

Now, I decided to answer a question with a question.  “Rachel, are you me-shoo-gah?”

Putz let out a good laugh.  “Ha!  Good one, Precious.  You hear that, Rachel?  We don’t allow any meshuganas at this table.  So take your food and leave … Now.”

In a huff, the girl got up and took her plate into the family room.

“She didn’t have to leave, Putz.”

“Oh yeah, she did.  I told you Rachel was obnoxious … and getting way too personal.”

“So, Putz, why did your dad decide to become a lawyer.”

The boy set down his pizza slice and told me, “Precious, the tradesmen guilds don’t exactly welcome Jews.  Did you ever see the ‘Wizard of Oz’?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s a fact that not one member of the Lollipop Guild was Jewish.”

“Really?  Maybe the Jewish actors were too tall?”

“Oh, yeah.  But a Jewish kid growing up only has three choices … doctor, lawyer, comedian.”

I wondered out loud, “Are there that many Jewish comedians?”

Putz looked at me with wide eyes.  “Are you kidding?  The list is practically endless … Three Stooges, Marx Brothers, John Stewart, Seinfeld, Howard Stern, Mel Brooks, Billy Crystal, Adam Sandler, Woody Allen, Bill Maher, Ed Asner …”

“Wow.”

“Wait, I’m not done,” said the boy.  “Jerry Lewis, Gene Wilder, Don Rickles, Rodney Dangerfield, George Burns, Ben Stiller, Goldie Hawn, Buddy Hackett, Jack Benny, Jack Black, Gilda Radner, Milton Berle, Sacha Baron Cohen (who did Borat), Bob Saget, Howie Mandel …”

I had to interrupt.  “Putz, a lot of those people are seriously old.”

“Or seriously dead.”

“So how do you know all those names?”

“I’m researching them as part of my bar mitzvah project.  So when I do my speech, instead of talking about old bible stories, I’ll talk about comedians.  And if not comedians, then I’ll talk about sex.  That’s one of the advantages of belonging to a reformed temple.”

I nodded.  “I think I’d like to go if you’d invite me.”