The Chanukah Lights: an Irish Limerick for a Jewish Occasion
What is 100WCGU? Each week there is a prompt: a few connected words, a selection of individual words or a picture.
The prompt is:
… They worked when we put them away …
As usual you have 100 words to add to those making 104 all together.
The Seven Day Lights
They worked when I put them away.
But now when I need them, oy vay!
My Chanukah light
Burns out every night
How did they get them to last past a day?
Well, my Irish Jew friend, you’ve come up a bit short! And before anyone gets angry, I can call you a Jew instead of Jewish because I am an Italian Jew! So you’re something like 70 words short of a hundred. I’d love to hear the rest of the limerick as I found it very entertaining. (Also, the prompt is 7 words long, making the word count for this week 107, not 104.) Chappy Chanukah!
Foist of all, now that I know you are an Italian Jew, I vill call you by your Yiddish name of Sol, not even Saul. Note that Sol is short for Solomon and the nickname is a few short letters short of being vorthy of the full visdom encumbered in the name of the once great king who had balance vich you don’t.
Yes, I am 70 woids short in my writing, but not in stature. I am saving my other 70 woids, and using them for having gone over the week before on my Friday Fictioneer story. You hear that, Rochelle. I’m making good on my overage, tata-la.
Solly, baby, you know nuttin’ about how t’ings woik around here in the real blog vorld, you shlub.
And as for 104 woids voises 107 woids? Just be grateful you’re not my vaiter because, aside de from Canadians, I vould be a good tipper if I vus better at numbers – dis iss vhy I am a writer and not an accountant, like myn-a mutter vanted me to be.
Now, hear dis, you kreplach. In myn-a ‘hood ve’d t’row latkes at your head for such Jewish-a references. Your head vould spin so you vouldn’t know ved-da you vus comin’ or goin’ – which I don’t t’ink you know anyvays – so ve’ll leave you as is. You shmendrake.
Merry Crotsmas. And a Chappy Channukah to chew.
Your lights don’t shine through the night either, ve hear!
So dere, Solly boy, so dere.
In case you might be counting, Sol, dat vus about 250 vords. I vasted about 243 more den I vanted or expected.
I refuse to descend to your level. But you must be a constant source of disappointment to your mother. What? You couldn’t have made her happy and been an accountant during the day? Write in the evenings? This blog business is never going to make you any money. You’ll die poor and destitute like your Uncle Moishe, God rest his soul! Oh, wait. that was MY Uncle Moishe! And that accent of yours is racist. Probably sexist, too. We don’t all talk like we’re from Brooklyn (although, coincidentally, that’s where I was born).
Shame, Sol, shame on you. Disavow your past like dat.
Everyvun’s a constant source of disappontment to myn-a mutter. Everybody in da vorld is a disappointment to a Jewish mutter except her doctor, accountant, or lawyer children, and even den dey get divorced, lose der house, or are imperfoict in some vay or another.
Ve are all imperfoict, Solly.
So, myn-a boy-chik. You dinna talk like dis vhen you vere in Brooklyn?
Maybe, the Eye-trallion Paulie, spoka like dis to da Hebes. Ain’t no racist in me, you botchagaloop. I breaka your face for dat. In Brooklyn, dis is how we tawk and don’ you ferget it. So you moved out. So, now you a big shot, eh Paulie – you got a thing about dat we tawk funny, huh. You come back and we’ll t’row more than meatballs at your head. Sumptin’ a lot heavier and more metallic den doz what dem Jews call dem latkisses?
Watch your back, squeegee.
Hey Paulie – what happened to my ten best reasons comment?
I always check Julia’s prompt for poetic rythm, but this time I missed a limerick touch. Wonderful.
thank. Your a shmart boychick, brudberg, not like ole Solly before you.