Mr. Monday and other tales of Jewish Amsterdam

HOW ZELIK MISSED OUT ON TWO INHERITANCES 129

"Aunt Pessie, let us see your false teeth just once more." For appearance sake, she resisted, "Ach, silly boy, I have let you see them so often." Then I was supposed to beg again that I still would like to see the teeth. That's how the game was supposed to work. But instead of that, I said, "Well, don't let me see them, then. I should worry. I don't think those teeth are so much, anyway. But you ought to see Aunt Breinie's appendicitis. She let me see where she got operated on, and it's a beautiful sight."

The consequence of this was completely unexpected. From my mother I got a whack which I can still feel, even though it was way back when I was only twelve years old. Aunt Breinie began to screech and threw herself into a nervous fit from shame. And Aunt Pessie-with-the-Pricetag walked out of the door and stayed away for two years from sheer anger.

That's how I spoiled my chance for two jeroushos together worth a million—oh, was I just saying a hundred thousand—anyway, that's a pretty good amount, too, as inheritances go.