Chad Gadya

My Goat Gives Me a Pep Talk

        I was not in a good mood when I found out that my mother's beaten up car had finally quit its job. It wasn't that far of a walk from the temple to my house, but my shoes were painful to walk in and I couldn't wait to change out of my torn and slightly damp dress.

One thing made the miserable walk tolerable: Kuni's parents had told him that he could walk me home. We did not speak, but I felt as if the rough edges of my anxiety were being smoothed down in his presence. When we finally arrived at my house, I regretted my silence. "I better leave now," he said.

       I grabbed his hand quickly. "Won't you please at least see Marzipan?" I asked. "She's the cutest goat in the entire world!"

       "You said that about Chaim and he bit me!" Kuni said.

         "Marzipan is a sweetie," I said. "She's as sweet as honey."

          "Honey isn't that sweet," Kuni grumbled, But he followed me anyways.

             My mother just sighed and unlocked the door, running her hands through her hair like she did whenever she grew anxious. "Breina, don't hold up Kuni for too long," my mother told me. "He's very busy."

      Kuni sighed and followed me to my room. As soon as I walked through the door, Marzipan trotted over to Kuni and began sniffing him carefully before trying to eat his shoelaces. After swatting her away from Kuni's footwear, I put my hands on my hips and marched up to my goat, hoping to imitate what I saw other kids' parents do whenever they scolded their children. "Marzipan, What was that for?" I asked before my worries drowned out the little anger I had. "Kuni and I are very worried. It must be nice to be a goat. You don't have to worry about demons crashing your Bat Mitzvah party and capturing your rabbi."

         "It must be nice to be a human," Marzipan said. "You don't have to worry about how long until you're sent to the slaughterhouse."

     I stepped back and blinked, lost for words. "We-we d-don't even kill you guys," I managed.

       Marzipan grabbed a paper napkin that had been left on the floor and began munching on it. My attempt to wrestle it out of her mouth was unsuccessful. "Have you always been able to speak?" I asked hesitantly.

      "Of course not!" Marzipan said.

        "Then, why are you speaking now?" Kuni asked.

        "Your rabbi was kidnapped!" Marzipan said. "Dire times call for talking goats!"

       Kuni frowned. "But, how did you learn?" he asked.

         "God granted me the gift of a human voice to aid you on your quest," Marzipan bleated.

      "Quest?" I repeated. "What quest?"

        "To save your rabbi!" The goat said. "Do you want Rabbi Alamo to be kept in the clutches of a demon for all of eternity? Who will lead the Shabbat services? Who will buy the challah from Einstein's Bagels?"

        "He buys the challah from Einstein's Bagels?" I asked.

        "That's not important," Kuni said.

          "Yes, it is," I insisted. "He said he baked them himself!"

          Kuni facepalmed. "Tell me," he asked my goat. "Why do heroes in hooks always get fancy, magical weapons and we get a talking goat?"

        "We?" I said. "Kuni, you cannot go!"

        "What do you mean I cannot?" he snapped.