Friend, let me tell you how it happened, just to clear up the lies and so forth that have been evaporating off of tongues and into this poisonous air. I’m sure you’ve more than heard them; you must have felt them! Oh the humidity here. The humanity here- but this place is in reality quite dry, no humidity at all, and sometimes no humanity! Not at all like home, but I’m getting away from myself and our quiet place. To be frank, to be perfectly forthright with you friend, that thought does cross my mind often, but if I was to get away, if I were to leave, where would I go? Where would any of us go? There isn’t a home left for us. We’re trapped here, you and I and everyone else, friend.
So in that interest, I thought I would just make sure you know the real story, the real story about all of these incidents that I’ve heard being misrepresented in our lovely little community. Now I’m certain you know what time it is, or what time it’s getting to be, friend, but the thought quite honestly hadn’t crossed my mind, but yes, it is getting around to the Sabbath of the Community Meeting. That is purely coincidental.
It all started that morning a few weeks ago- or was it a few months? Time is draining from our little cooperative in the desert like the water in the reservoir before we put the new concrete down. Well of course I didn’t put that down, I wasn’t on rotation those days. But we are a collective, of course. Anyway, that morning in the chicken coop. You’ve been there! Very early hours for chicken duty, when one is assigned to it, friend. Cold desert mornings leaving the warm bed for the coop, before the sun rises up over the mountains across the valley. Now I see the necessity of it, absolutely. Friend, I enjoy eggs at breakfast as much as you do, or perhaps more, if that isn’t unduly selfish and anticommunal to say. But why is breakfast so early, come to ask it? The first meal of the day could be at ten, very reasonably. Seven is quite early, especially since, as you well know friend, that means the comrade on chicken duty must be up at five, or sometimes even four-thirty. That’s no time for a hard-working adult to be awake! And certainly on such little sleep one cannot be expected to juggle delicate, perfectly formed eggs friend! If one were to slip, one were to break, the sacrifice of the honest chicken would be in vain, and there would be no eggs for the rest. It was in the spirit of self-sacrifice and idolation of the communal good that I closed my eyes ever so briefly- really more of a blink, or even a wink, one eye at a time, friend- and it was as that precise moment that my good friend Motti walked into the chicken coop. I think he was on kitchen duty that day.
The next issue that might come up, friend, at the Community Meeting- I didn’t even realize it was coming so soon until you just reminded me, how opportune- is that little incident a few weeks later. But it really was just a misunderstanding. Yes there I was in the storehouse, and you are correct, observant friend, that I was holding the petty cash in my hand, but as you may well know, I had a degree in accounting back home, before they took it all away. I was double-checking the finances of our little settlement. Imagine, friend, if someone had been embezzling from us! How could we afford to buy the necessary luxuries (so luxurious, yet so necessary, wouldn’t you agree, friend?) if we were being shortchanged? So I took it upon myself, in my usual abnegating style, to count the petty cash and ensure that not a pruta was missing. And of course, as luck, or rather the dedication of whoever was rotated onto the accounting duty that day (Was it our friend Chava?), would have it, it was all well accounted for, and I could rest easier. Since I do, friend, need rest. I know what it looked like- heaven attest that I am too well conscious of what it might have appeared like- but it was service, really, friend. Really. And Chava verified afterwards that all the money was still there, when she rather forcefully took some of the money I was inspecting as suspect forgeries from various pockets of mine.
I think there’s only one more misunderstanding to clear up, friend. And quite honestly, it’s a very small business, certainly not worth expulsion- my the words just leap to my mouth! I’m sure, friend, that neither you nor anyone else in your- in our- hardworking united community would be even mentioning that. Certainly not for me. Certainly not given the circumstances. Oh the circumstances! I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, friend, about everything going on out there. That’s why we’re here. But enough about politics! Or is it theology? The little occasion with the plowing. I think it’s a mistake anyone could make. Friend, they told me: Friend Yankle, plow this field. Here I go to plow. Watch me! But no, they never clarified which field. Now you know well as I do, friend, that certain fields should not be plowed under any circumstances. Better than me, in fact- I was an accountant back home, not a farmer. Would you believe I never stepped out of the city until- well. But of course, I would not want to plow the wrong field. What if I had, and it was a critical communal field? What if the whole fate of the group lay on the correct field being plowed? What if I would have plowed this field and we all starved? Unthinkable! And see, the language barrier kept me from fully understanding which field it was to plow. I’m still learning, our new language, or should I say, our old language. But I could not interrupt the daily organizer, because she was engaged in necessary and diligent work on all of our behalf- oh how I recognize the importance of the daily organizer! So naturally I didn’t plow the correct field, friend. But note, note this very carefully- I also did not plow the incorrect field! There is a triumph for you!
I hope, friend, you’re completely understanding of what, in the whole scheme of things, especially with reference to everything going on, to everything outside, to everything back home, are very trivial misunderstandings.
Friend, I wish you the best- full success, speedy joy, all the rest, and I hope you can find it in you to make sure I’m presented in the best light tonight. I’m really counting on you, though I’m sure we’ll all be fair-minded.
Please, really, friend, you understand me, don’t you?
They weren’t anticommunal. And even if-
You simply have to-
They can’t-
Please friend-
Not back-
Please-
Those old knives-
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