Free Are You Kosher? by Russell Andresen

immediately and was not happy.
    “Who is Bubbalita, you little pisher? And why are you talking like that?” she yelled.
    What I wanted to say was, “Calm down, Bubbe, I’m just joking. Is there anything to eat?” What I said was, “Chill out, jefe . Go on to the kitchen and get me some chicharones .” Oh shit.
    The old lady’s head almost popped off her shoulders. “Chicharones? That’s pork! Why would you want pork? Is that how I raised you? Where’s my spoon?”
    Have you ever seen anyone have a conniption? It is not a pretty sight and is magnified when the person having the conniption is a six thousand five hundred-year-old vampire who has already seen and heard everything, so for her to fly off the deep end is saying something.
    Bubbe raced to the kitchen in search of her preferred weapon while I made a run for my bedroom, barricading the door behind me to block the wrath of Zena Glassman. For the next two hours, I yelled through the door, trying to convince her that I was only joking, which was made more difficult by the fact that I was still speaking with a Latin accent and using the slang of the people. Eventually, she was satisfied that all I was doing was rehearsing lines for a role that I was playing in the local community theater. Of course, she wasn’t happy about that, either, because Bubbe has always believed that actors are all faygelahs. That’s okay; I could work on that over time. The important thing then, as now, was to make sure that she did not know that I had strayed from kosher law.
    That’s just one example. I was not prepared for the repercussions of feasting on a non-Jew. This experience came in handy in future endeavors, like when I feasted on a Jamaican girl and was overcome with the sudden desire for bean pies, beef patties, and, of course, ganja. Bubbe still wonders why I was referring to her as “mon.”
    Of course, I also had a fling with a very lovely Irish girl who consequently turned me into a foulmouthed, drunken shmendrik for a couple of days. And how can I ever forget the wonderful time I spent with a Polish woman who so discombobulated me that I was actually caught urinating in Bubbe’s fleishik sink because I could not remember where the bathroom was.
    Are these generalizations about different groups of people? Yes. Are they stereotypes? Most definitely, but they are still true. I didn’t make up the stereotypes; I am just living proof that they are true.
    The moral of this, my non-bloodsucking friends, is this, I suppose. Enjoy yourselves; eat whatever makes you happy. Don’t be a victim of cultural or religious restrictions, because whenever those things get involved, the fun has totally left the room. Just keep it in the back of your mind that in some very extreme circumstances, you really are what you eat.
     
     

Chapter 15
    Alter Kocker of the Lost Ark
    By now it should be quite apparent to even an idiot that nothing is taboo to me and I am brutally honest in my opinions. You may also be picking up on the fact that I am incredibly neurotic and very, very old. I’ve actually been alive since before the time of the great flood. You know the one I’m talking about. The one from the Bible, from Noah’s day. Yes, that Noah—the one with the ark.
    You are probably wondering how we survived the flood since it specifically says in the Bible that the only survivors were Noah and his family. Well, that is an interesting story, and I’m about to share it with you. Really, guys, you need to stop being so pushy; everything will be revealed in due time. Why would I even consider leaving such a great story out of my memoirs? You are paying good money to read this, and I am all about catering to my audience.
    At this time, Bubbe, my mother, and I were living in Canaan, in the Jewish section—Lower East Side in point of fact. The Gefilte Fish War had just ended and Tsvi the Dominant was defeated. As punishment, he lost his license to practice medicine, which brought a great