He does this, Uncle Slappy does. He's so eager to talk, to get things off his chest, he forgets most proprieties and manners.
"Aunt Sylvie has done it again," he repeated. "She dragged me to another movie, "Silver Pupik Playbook."
When Slappy wants a laugh, or some sympathy, he inserts the Yiddish word "pupik" somewhere in his speech. At best, the word means navel. At worst it's slang for a woman's nether regions.
I was hoping he would pause so I could at least ask him how he's doing, but Slappy ploughed ahead like a runaway locomotive.
I was hoping he would pause so I could at least ask him how he's doing, but Slappy ploughed ahead like a runaway locomotive.
"She wants to see the Oscar nominees. So she drags me to this trafe. 'It's got DeNiro,' she says. Personally, DeNiro couldn't carry Paul Muni's jock-strap.
"So, a vote you get, I asked her, from the ferstunkeneh Academy? They care that you went to the movie? They care about your opinion?"
"Well, how was it?" I finally got four words in.
"They almost didn't let us in. The bastard schvartza girl in the box office."
"Why would they not let you in?"
"Because I tried to reason with them. If Senior Citizen starts at 62 years old--at 62, you save two dollars, I told them I should get in for eight dollars off. To me, a 62-year-old is a mere stripling. I'm almost 86 years old. I shouldn't have to pay the same as a 62-year-old."
"That seems reasonable."
"They didn't think so. The manager came out and said I was causing a disturbance. We paid nine dollars each."
"So what's on the docket for today?" I asked, trying to nudge the old man away from his anger.
"She wants to see 'Les Miz.'"
"I heard it's pretty good," I told him.
"Sylvie," I said to her, "You want miserable, you don't need to go to the movies for nine dollars. Just watch me. I've got enough miserable for ten movies."
