Monday, November 26, 2012

The busiest online shopping day of the year.

"I went to the mall," Uncle Slappy began without even saying his customary "Hello, Schmendrick." "I went to the mall," the old man continued. "Sylvie dragged me. She said the sales were not to be missed. So we went on Black Friday to the mall."

"Good morning, Uncle Slappy," I interrupted.

"If you have an enemy, if there's someone you detest, abhor, can't stand, to the mall on the day after Thanksgiving you should send them."

"I'm surprised you actually left the condo, Uncle Slappy. Why didn't you just shop online? I got you the MacBook Air last Hannukah so down to the pool you could bring it. Is there something wrong with your computer."

"No," the Old Man said ruefully, "I misunderstood. The Mac, like a top it runs. But here's what happened."

I interjected a pre-emptive "Oy," and let the Old Man run.

"You remember two years ago the schmuck down three condos said I parked in his space. To the condo board he goes accusing me of trespassing, a Rabbi, trespassing in his exalted parking space."

"I remember," I said, "it was quite a tsimmis."

"Yes, it was a fight with a schmuck by the name of Si Berg. A dermatologist from Hewlett, a pimple-popper, if you will."

"I will," I answered.

"Well all over the radio all weekend long, I hear about some big event honoring Si Berg on Monday."

"And event honoring Si Berg?"

"Yes, every news story I hear has something about Si Berg Monday. How everyone will be shopping on Si Berg Monday. I said to Sylvie, if everyone is honoring that putz Si Berg, if they're naming a day after him, let's go to the mall on Friday and avoid Si Berg on Monday and every other day."

"I see," I responded, my voice barely audible over the shaking of my head.

"Si Berg Monday, my tuchas," Slappy spat.

I thought about trying to explain but I thought better of it.

"So, listen to me, Schmendrick," the old man concluded, "Stay out of the store today. Si Berg don't deserve your money."

I said goodbye. And walked to work feeling like I had gone three rounds peppered with jabs and crosses from a crafty welterweight, bruised and more than a little worse for wear.