Kosher meat

My day at the University is usually long and very busy. It gets so busy that in between lectures and laboratory work, there is little time for a meal. As a result of this, I have managed to lose some weight. This news will be welcome back home, because I was growing notoriously fat. Shirts didn’t fit me, my trousers were too tight, and worst of all, my paunch had grown so large that it hid my genitalia. I was horrified.

Now that my genitals are back into my view and the paunch has receded, I am glad and can feel the self-esteem returning like blood returns to the brain after its work in ejaculation. I feel proud of having lost weight, and I am doubly proud of the fact that, since the week I landed here, I have eaten a total of 4 meals. I subsist on Energy drinks, water and an insatiable lust for the women in my class.

This morning, I had the rare privilege of having an hour’s break. I withdrew money and went to the cafe where I liked the waitress and decided that today would be the day of my weekly meal. I took off my coat ( I always wear a black overcoat, i have a couple of those), and hung it on the hanger. The waitress glided to me at my table and laid the menu gently. She said Shalom in a voice that was smoky and husky, and my auricular loins stirred. I thumbed through the menu and decided to eat a plate of “Pork Steak with grilled vegetables”. I motioned for the Goddess of a waitress and she glided to my seat, smile on her face, and a notebook in her hand.

Since my knowledge of the local tongue is negligible, I usually point to the English transliteration of the dish I like. The waitress repeats it in her sexily accented English, and I jump like a 9 year old at its sweetness. I pointed the Pork Steak on the menu and the expression on the waitress’ face turned from a pleasant smile to that of concern.

“That Pork”, she said, doubtfully, “Niet Kosher”.

“Well, I know that its Pork”, I reply confused myself as to why this woman decided to argue, wasting my valuable time.

“It Pork, Pig, Swine meat”, she said, as if talking to a cretin.

“I know, I’d like a plate of that”, I reply, annoyed as hell.

“But how can eat pork? It not Kosher!” she cries, as if she is going to be scandalized.

The cafe turned silent, and all eyes turned to us.

It then dawned on me that she must be hung up on the idea of mine being Jewish.

Being the swine that I am, I replied “I’m not feeling Kosher today, madam, I’m not”.

She looked at me scandalized and another waitress joined us.

“I’m not Jewish, ” I said to the two of them, “I don’t mind eating pork”.

“You’re not Jewish?”, the other waitress asked. I realized that the charm was falling from their eyes too damn fast. So I lied, being an insufferable prick that I am.

“I’m only half Jewish, ” I said, “And right now, I’m not feeling Kosher at all”.

The two of them burst out laughing.



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