Havah Nageela
It was David's Bar Mitzvah, and he was halfway through the first chant passage when he started puking up hot cocktail weenies all over the torah. The canter gave a lighthearted eye-rolling grin of reprimand and continued strumming, nodding for David to continue.
"That David," his aunt whispered with a loving smirk to another lady in the audience, "always some trick up that sleeve of his!"
But David couldn't stop convulsing. Empty, stringy bile was swinging out of his yellowed lips and nostrils, tepid and littered with hacked up chunks of bread and cereal. "--Hel--help me…" David murmured, the canter nodding and humming the chant, emphasizing his nods encouragingly on the "1" beat.
David could spot his grandfather's clubbed and stubby "thumbs up" in the back of the room, like a bright pale breadstick wrapped in veiny-blue poison ivy. "Keep it up," he mouthed.
David's fists were raw and peeling, soaked in the acidic shower of liquid vomit, trembling to keep his organs from spilling out of his throat. He could feel his heart hiccupping into cardiac arrest like a train crash.
Some of David's Hebrew-speaking relatives in the crowd began to smile and link arms, swaying and singing some of the missed verse supportively, knowing that David was probably just nervous about being up on stage and would hop back on track in no time.
His eyes rolled back into his head, David's unhinged lower jaw and neck began to spasm wildly. Saliva and snot slopped down his chin like congealed honey. As his skull bopped around like a pinball machine, some of his teeth began to fracture off onto the podium in the intense chattering fervor. Seizing in electric hysteria, David finally collapsed with a dramatic pomp into a messy pile of bones and tattered skin atop the podium-perched torah. In the pervasive silence that followed, David's yamaka slumped off his sweaty and twisted scalp into the crowd. It rolled madly on its rim--like a dime on a sidewalk--until--following a painstakingly long circular spiral--it came to rest.
The group gave a small laugh and heaved David's corpse onto a padded chair and lifted him into the air, singing Havah Nageela and drinking all sorts of wines.
After the song transpired, the DJ, feeling the mood of the congregation, lowered the volume and switched over the music to easy listening oldies hits.
The canter came down to where David's body lay haphazardly wedged on the chair, dangling over the sides, and let out a long, joyous sigh of relief. "It all payed off, David, it all paid off. You are a man now. You look one thousand feet tall."
Suddenly the cadaver that was David buckled under its own weight and lopped to the floor with a wet thud.
Hours later, after the party had settled and the Macarena had been milked for the last time, the guests began to file home, warmly congratulating David's lifeless body once more, politely ignoring the noxious odor that was beginning to ooze from his voided bowels. His mother hoisted him over her shoulders, whispering, "Come now, the boy's tired…let's take him home."
David's parents loaded him into the car and buckled him up, kissing him delicately on the forehead and pulling his fuzzy coat up over his torso.
When they had gotten home, his parents worked together to carry him to his bedroom and tuck him in. "Shhh..shh…Don't bother openin' your lids, bud, just nod off to sleep there, buddy, you've had a long day. Ya did good."
His muddled corpse was left to fester all night, attracting flees and ticks. In the morning his parents aided him in getting dressed, some of his bluish and discolored skin shedding off onto the carpeting.
Four years later David graduated at the top of his class, leaning up informally against the teachers and principal while receiving his diploma at graduation--in David's own goofy style that he had became so popular for. The dean and superintendent couldn't help but chuckle and shake their heads knowingly, remarking, "Oh, there goes David again," and "What'll he do next!"
David went on to start up his own corporation, which hit big in the stock market and took off like a rocket--sky's the limit. When David was teetering into his late 50's, he gave the company over to his son, David Jr.. So overcome with joy and satisfaction was David that he could not bear to lift his emotion-swelled head up from the table.
David was pronounced dead peacefully when he passed away at 96 of old age, and was buried in a plot with the rest of his family, some spots of course saved for future members.
"That David," his aunt whispered with a loving smirk to another lady in the audience, "always some trick up that sleeve of his!"
But David couldn't stop convulsing. Empty, stringy bile was swinging out of his yellowed lips and nostrils, tepid and littered with hacked up chunks of bread and cereal. "--Hel--help me…" David murmured, the canter nodding and humming the chant, emphasizing his nods encouragingly on the "1" beat.
David could spot his grandfather's clubbed and stubby "thumbs up" in the back of the room, like a bright pale breadstick wrapped in veiny-blue poison ivy. "Keep it up," he mouthed.
David's fists were raw and peeling, soaked in the acidic shower of liquid vomit, trembling to keep his organs from spilling out of his throat. He could feel his heart hiccupping into cardiac arrest like a train crash.
Some of David's Hebrew-speaking relatives in the crowd began to smile and link arms, swaying and singing some of the missed verse supportively, knowing that David was probably just nervous about being up on stage and would hop back on track in no time.
His eyes rolled back into his head, David's unhinged lower jaw and neck began to spasm wildly. Saliva and snot slopped down his chin like congealed honey. As his skull bopped around like a pinball machine, some of his teeth began to fracture off onto the podium in the intense chattering fervor. Seizing in electric hysteria, David finally collapsed with a dramatic pomp into a messy pile of bones and tattered skin atop the podium-perched torah. In the pervasive silence that followed, David's yamaka slumped off his sweaty and twisted scalp into the crowd. It rolled madly on its rim--like a dime on a sidewalk--until--following a painstakingly long circular spiral--it came to rest.
The group gave a small laugh and heaved David's corpse onto a padded chair and lifted him into the air, singing Havah Nageela and drinking all sorts of wines.
After the song transpired, the DJ, feeling the mood of the congregation, lowered the volume and switched over the music to easy listening oldies hits.
The canter came down to where David's body lay haphazardly wedged on the chair, dangling over the sides, and let out a long, joyous sigh of relief. "It all payed off, David, it all paid off. You are a man now. You look one thousand feet tall."
Suddenly the cadaver that was David buckled under its own weight and lopped to the floor with a wet thud.
Hours later, after the party had settled and the Macarena had been milked for the last time, the guests began to file home, warmly congratulating David's lifeless body once more, politely ignoring the noxious odor that was beginning to ooze from his voided bowels. His mother hoisted him over her shoulders, whispering, "Come now, the boy's tired…let's take him home."
David's parents loaded him into the car and buckled him up, kissing him delicately on the forehead and pulling his fuzzy coat up over his torso.
When they had gotten home, his parents worked together to carry him to his bedroom and tuck him in. "Shhh..shh…Don't bother openin' your lids, bud, just nod off to sleep there, buddy, you've had a long day. Ya did good."
His muddled corpse was left to fester all night, attracting flees and ticks. In the morning his parents aided him in getting dressed, some of his bluish and discolored skin shedding off onto the carpeting.
Four years later David graduated at the top of his class, leaning up informally against the teachers and principal while receiving his diploma at graduation--in David's own goofy style that he had became so popular for. The dean and superintendent couldn't help but chuckle and shake their heads knowingly, remarking, "Oh, there goes David again," and "What'll he do next!"
David went on to start up his own corporation, which hit big in the stock market and took off like a rocket--sky's the limit. When David was teetering into his late 50's, he gave the company over to his son, David Jr.. So overcome with joy and satisfaction was David that he could not bear to lift his emotion-swelled head up from the table.
David was pronounced dead peacefully when he passed away at 96 of old age, and was buried in a plot with the rest of his family, some spots of course saved for future members.