Need a drink? - [Male OC X Ford Pines] - Complete

4: Think About The Future

Shermie ushered me over to an old woman. "Bubbe, this is our friend James, the lightweight champion."

I smiled as I shook the old woman's hand. The older people at this entirely family party had sometimes been hard to understand, all of them being Jewish and speaking in Yiddishisms half the time. "It's very nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Call me Bubbe," she said with a smile. "Shermie tells me your mishpokhe, young man."

I smiled, having no clue what she had just called me. "Thank you, Bubbe."

"Family," Shermie said quietly, clearly seeing the confusion in my eyes.

"Oh, yes." I nodded. "Stanley and Stanford are my best friends. They're like my brothers."

The old woman pursed her lips. "He certainly has... chutzpah..."

"Bubbe," Shermie said, "be nice. He's goy, not crooked." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Enjoy the party, James." He led old woman again.

I breathed in through my nose, super confused. "How the heck," I mumbled to myself, "am I supposed to enjoy a party where I don't understand anyone?"

Ford waved me down and pointed to his room.

With a relieved smile, I made my way to the bedroom. I managed to get there without being ambushed by any of the large Pines family and their Yiddish. I found Stan and Ford hiding in the room. "Thanks for pulling me out of there... I was kinda struggling."

"You're literally the most charismatic guy we know," Stan said. "And our family is loving you. How could you be struggling?"

"Thanks," I rubbed my neck, "but I don't know what they're saying."

"What do you mean?" Ford asked.

"I understand the ones you guys say, like 'mozel tov' or 'klutz' but I just talked to a woman Shermie called 'Bubbe.' She said I have 'chutzpah' and Shermie told her to be nice because I'm 'goy, not crooked.' I don't know what these words mean.

"Right," Ford said, placing a hand on his chin. "Your family is roman catholic."

"Well my father is," I nodded. "Mom and I are both atheist."

"Our family is jewish," Stan said. "What they're speaking is Yiddish."

"Yeah," I said. "I know that. I was at your bar mitzvah. What I don't know is Yiddish. I don't know what almost any of it means!"

"Let's go over the basics so you at least know what is going on," Ford said. "We don't have time to teach you everything. Shermie will probably be looking for us soon."

"Thanks, guys." I smiled.

"Alright," Stan said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the bed post. "So Bubbe is Grandma and when she said you have 'chutzpah' she probably didn't mean it in a nice way. Usually it just means nerve but she's a little condescending at times."

"Oh," I said. "And 'goy, not crooked?' Is that an idiom of some sort?"

"No," Ford said. "Goy is just someone who's not jewish. Crooked would be the New Jersey in Shermie. Basically he told her that your not attracted to other men."

"Ah, man," I groaned. "This again? Do I really look gay to people?"

"Nah, man," Stan said. "It's your voice. You're in eleventh grade but your voice still hasn't dropped an octave since middle school."

"I wish it would already," I sighed, sitting on Ford's bed. "It's driving me insane to have to tell people I'm not gay constantly."

"It's very possible," Ford said, "that it won't get any lower."