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Shragi and Shia and the Ultra-Bright Idea

Yael Mermelstein

“Are you sure you lost your ring again?” my father called down the stairs to my mother. “I have a hanger all the way down the drain and I don’t feel any resistance.” My mother’s response sounded frantic. “I don’t know if it fell down the drain. I remember taking it off by the bathroom sink and then I came downstairs and I was cooking and I didn’t have it anymore …” My mother’s voice drifted off into a resigned sigh. “Maybe Shragi and Shia can help.”

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

illustration boy crawling“We’re on the job,” Shia said. The bathroom was a bit crowded with the three of us in there, but we were on a mission.

“We should try cleaning for Pesach,” I suggested. “Worked for Mommy last time.”

“It’s not even Purim,” Shia said.

“Details,” I muttered as I shoved my arm further down the drain. It was a good thing we didn’t have a pet dog, because with this oversized drain it could have been really dangerous. My parents were advised that an extra-wide drain would be easier to unstuff when the pipes got clogged. It was also good for boys with stick-skinny arms like me. I shoved my arm in a little further.

“Paydirt!” Shia yelled.

“You found it?” my father asked.

“No! But I unscrewed the entire shower he—”

“AAAAACK!” my father screamed as a jet of water hit him full in the nose. I covered my mouth so as not to chas v’shalom laugh at him, when suddenly I was sprayed with cold jets of water all over my face, chest, and arms.

 

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