A Tale of Jewish Indians

A family of Schmohawk Indians was sitting around the shtetl one night: The papa, Geronowitz, the mama, Pocayenta, and the beautiful young daughter, Minihorwitz.

"So, nu," says the daughter, "You'll never."

"What?" says the mama.

"Today, at high noon, I was proposed to in marriage."

"Yes?" says the mama. "So what did you say?"

"I said, Yes."

"You said, Yes?"

"I said, Yes."

"Mazel tov!" says the mama. "She said Yes! Did you hear that Geronowitz? Minihorwitz is getting married!"

"I heard," says the papa, "I'm kvelling. So who's the lucky brave?"

"Sittin' Bagel."

"Sittin' Bagel?" says the mama, "of the SoSiouxMe tribe?"

"That's the one," says Minihorowitz.

"Oy, Geronowitz! The SoSiouxMe's! There are so many of them! How can we feed them? How can we get them all in our teepee for the wedding?"

"We'll think of something," replies Geronowitz.

"Geronowitz! Get me a buffalo!" commands the mama.

"What, at this hour?"

"No, Geronowitz, for the wedding! I can make buffalo tzimmes from the meat and we can make an extra teepee from the hide. Go on, get me a buffalo!"

So Geronowitz goes out to hunt a buffalo. A day goes by and a night and Geronowitz has not come back. Another day and another night and still no sign of him. Another day and half the night and Geronowitz finally comes home: exhausted, staggering and empty-handed.

"Geronowitz! I've been worried sick. Where have you been? And where's my buffalo?!"

"It's like this," he says. "On my first day out, I hunted high and I hunted low. I finally found a buffalo but this buffalo, he made Mickey Rooney look strong! It was a tiny, scrawny little buffalo with no meat on his bones for buffalo tzimmes and barely enough hide for a rain hat. So I settled in for the night to try again the next day.

The second day, I looked high and I looked low from this way and that way and I finally found a buffalo. He was a big buffalo with lots of meat and lots of hide, but, I tell you, Pocayenta, this was the ugliest buffalo I ever saw in my life. This, I thought to myself, is not the buffalo for MY daughter's wedding. So again, I settled in for the night to try again the next day.

The third day I got up early and I looked high and I looked low, from this way and that way, going up hills and down hills and, suddenly, there it was: A magnificent buffalo! It was a big buffalo. It was, as buffalos go, a beautiful buffalo. It was, if I say so myself, the perfect buffalo. This, I say to myself, is the buffalo Pocayenta wants for Minihorowitz's wedding.

So I reach into my backpack quietly for my tomahawk and, as I tiptoe over to the buffalo, I raise my tomahawk slowly over the buffalo's neck, when suddenly, like a bolt of lightning from the sky, I see it!"

"See what?" asks Pocayenta.

"I've brought the milchedik tomahawk!"

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