Page 29 - Issue 31

could NOT daven, could not speak Yiddish or
Hebrew, etc. All eyes were on the African Grey
during services. The parrot perched on Meyer’s
shoulder as one prayer and song passed – Meyer
heard not a peep from the bird. He began to
become annoyed, slapping at his shoulder and
mumbling under his breath, “Daven!”

Nothing.

“Daven … feigelleh, please! You can daven, so
daven … come on, everybody’s looking at you!”

Nothing.

After Rosh Hashanah services were concluded,
Meyer found that he owed his Shul buddies and
the Rabbi over four thousand dollars. He
marched home quite upset, saying nothing.
Finally, several blocks from the Shul, the bird,
happy as a lark, began to sing an old Yiddish
song. Meyer stopped and looked at him.

“You miserable bird, you cost me over four
thousand dollars. Why? After I made your
tefillin, taught you the morning prayers, and
taught you to read Hebrew and the Torah. And
after you begged me to bring you to Shul on Rosh
Hashanah, why? Why did you do this to me?”

“Don’t be a schmuck,” the parrot replied. “You
know what odds we’ll get at Yom Kippur?!”