The squad leader, who was obviously lost, said “Mea culpa.”
There being no funny
Shin Bet pictures, the Rabbi contemplated the alephbet while he considered the next plot device in a long and mangled tale.
At that very moment in Shanghai, Jimmy Wu put down his ice-cold glass of beer and stared thoughtfully out the window.
Jimmy Who?
The ice-cold glass of beer, piqued at being ignored, tipped over and spilled its contents into Wu’s lap.
“Dammit!” said Wu, mopping ineffectually at his lap with a handful of paper napkins.
“What the…?!”, Jimmy exclaimed as he watched the “beer” begin to eat through his pants like battery acid and hydrochloric and muriatic acid, the three combined.
The beer bubbled with goulish giggles.
Wu hurriedly took off his pants and flung them to the floor, oblivious to the stares and giggles of other bar patrons as the sentient beer devoured his pants.
The beer then oozed its way towards and out the door in search of like lifeforms.
“…but a being that knows right from wrong should obey the Noahyde mitzvote…” Rabbi Yehudah ben Bezalel Levai paused; a bottle of Manschevitz on the dashboard of the Mitzvah Tank began to glow…“I sense a disturbance in the tsvingen.”
The glow turned from deep purple to bright chartruese and the Rabbi* jumped back in horror.
*somehow I knew what the picture would be before I clicked it…
From our historical archives. (Editorial commentary does not count as a sentence.)
Rabbi Yehudah ben Bezalel Levai knew this could be the work of only one rodent…
Goyisch Squirrel!
The Rabbi knew there was only one individual who could salvage things now.
Quickly, to the Mitzvah Phone!
Joshie looked at the Rabbi and said “Missed it by that much.”
“Missed Wu, er, Who?” asked the Rabbi.
“The beer,” explained Joshie “it left with the Heavy Malaga just before you called the special agent”
“How do all of those people in Israel know what happened with my beer?” Wu wondered, far off in Shanghai.
“Use the tsvingen already, Wu!” a mysterious voice intoned, to which Wu replied, “What?”