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The Bris

Disclaimer – this is a work of fiction and in no way represents the actions of a real person

Epilogue to Have You Ever Seen Jerry Seinfeld Do Anyone Any Favors?

Image Credit: Chris Munday for NYT

Oh how could I forget! The bris! I don’t know if you, my dear reader, have ever been to a bris but it’s quite the occasion. There’s usually a mohel or rabbi that performs the act but the rest is fun, I assure you. Well this was no ordinary bris. In this bris, Jerry was mohel, rabbi, and mohelet. And some would say that Jerry finally performed his favor.

He didn’t.

It was I who favored him.

As I lay on the bris table, I thought — this may be the last time I see you my dearest friend. And it thought back to me — fear not, for Jerry is here. And you are his favor-ite.

I snuggled up and considered its response as Jerry prepared in the other room. I heard him mutter something in Hebrew and then something in Yiddish before finally yelling it all in English for the rest of us.

He returned with the tools of the trade miraculously failing to acknowledge our previous interactions. Him and the others gossiped for a smidge — talk of blintzes and chintzes; sons and daughters; bar and bat mitzvahs all intermingling at once into an overwhelming cacophony of sound. It died down as all turned their attention to the occasion at the fore.

Skin tight, Jerry snapped the gloves twice to further ensure their security. He grabbed the scalpel and… well I must have blacked out. All I remember was waking in my bed lacking a certain bit of flesh I once prized.

And I was 9 days old again.

I further considered the consequences of the ceremony and deemed them to be ultimately positive. I conquered my weight problem and everything still functioned correctly, how could I complain? All of which is good. All good things.

Except something still bothered me — what was the role I played? For what purpose was I given in this life if not to be circumcised by Jerry? Having done nothing else, couldn’t it be said that I was born for him? There is still more to consider, existentially, but consider this — if all the above is true then it was I who did a favor for Jerry.

Frankly, no other conclusion is conceivable. Therefore, no favor had been done unto me.

In the time since, he has made paltry attempts to claim the contrary — on TV and the like. He cries foul and besmirches my good name but as much as he tried to put it off as one, as much as he feigned the farce; Jerry had failed once more to do me a favor.

I was reborn for him. A born-again Jew. Free of original favors.

I did him a favor.

Me.

Recommend0 Simily SnapsPublished in All Stories, Fiction, Humor, Satire

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