Chad Gadya

My Golem Attacks My Best Friend

Most people complain about waking up to their annoying alarms. I like to complain about the time my goat woke me up. I was injured and had fallen asleep when I felt a sharp hoof knock against my head (well, I found out it was a good later on). I stubbornly resisted opening my eyes, but then a horrendous sound made me get up.

My goat was trying to imitate klezmer music and her attempt was absolutely horrible. First of all, I don't like klezmer music. Whoever thought it made Shabbat services more enjoyable was wrong. The congregants who played were sweethearts, but not even an angel could make klezmer music sound good; my goat certainly couldn't.

     "Stop!" I said, opening my eyes and sitting up. "Save me from this horrendous sound."

    Marzipan shot me a hurt look and stopped her klezmer imitation. "I thought I sounded just like the band at your Shabbat services."

     "You did," Kuni agreed.

      "Yes," I said, nodding vigorously, "and that's the problem."

     "Breina," My mother said, kneeling down on the grass next to me. "What did I teach you about manners?"

    I stared at her. "We just got attacked by some goat vampires and you care about manners?"

     "Yes," my mother said. "Do you think Queen Esther saved the Jews by shouting at goats?"

     "I don't think she had any goats to shout at," I said. "Besides, I wasn't shouting."

     "Your voice was a bit loud," Kuni said apologetically.

    I sighed and turned to Marzipan. "Oh, my sweet goat, I am sorry that I hurt you. I'm just grumpy and I don't feel so good."

    It was true; my head felt like it was made of the softest, fluffiest challah: the world around me didn't seem altogether substantial. My mother put her arms around me and helped me stand up. A wave of dizziness swept over me and I closed my eyes, swaying on the spot and grateful for my mother's support.

I was aware of her guiding me, but I wasn't sure where. When my head finally stopped spinning like a dreidel, I opened my eyes. I was sitting on the couch in our living room. My mother was moving around with the speed and vigor of a bee flitting from one flower to another. I saw that she was filling three backpacks with supplies.

She looked up to meet my gaze. "I'm packing for the quest."

"You're actually going?" I asked.

She stopped packing and stood still. "Breina, you cannot go on your own."

"She won't be alone," Marzipan said, clattering her hooves against the wooden floor. "I'll be there with her."

My mother sighed. "You need an adult with you."

I wanted to say that I was a Jewish adult now that I could chant Torah, but the argument kinda fell flat in my chest. I still felt weak from the broxa attack and besides, being able to participate in a minyan did not mean I could drive a car or buy my own goat farm.

I turned to Kuni. He was technically an adult too, despite never having a bar mitzvah. He was 14 — a year older than I, but his parents had decided he needed to focus on his health rather than his religion. Kuni lifted his gaze. "What will I tell my parents?"

     I bit my lip. I hadn't thought of that. Kuni was their only child and because of his health problems, they treated him as if he was a Torah scroll — something special that needed to be kept away from other things and only taken out of its ark by the most gentle of hands.