This off-topic essay is my response to a request from my cousin Shelley.
We were slaves in the land of Egypt. Our ancestors must’ve
been a lot better at manual labor than we are today. Why else would the
Pharaohs make them build pyramids?
After years of dreaming of having the freedom to become accountants,
doctors, and lawyers, the Jews were fed up. Moses, their leader, went to the
Pharaoh and asked him to let his fellow-steins go.
The Pharaoh, in his best Yul Brynner impression, raised one
eyebrow towards his bald head and said “No.”
Moses told him he’d be sorry. G-d sent plagues to Egypt. The
first was blood.
“No,” said Pharaoh.
Then came fire.
“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire! But still, no”
Locusts, hail, and a few others nobody likes to talk about
followed.
The last one was the Death of the First Born. The angel of
death flew around Egypt, passing over (get it?) the houses of the Jews, but
entering the houses of the Egyptians to slay their oldest child.
Finally after his own son died, Pharaoh said, “don’t let the
door hit you in the ptolyme (which is Egyptian for ‘ass’).”
So we left, crossed the Red Sea, hung out in the desert and
ate food like it was Manna from Heaven, which it was, until we made it to
Israel, 40 years later. Apparently, not one Jewish man had been willing to stop
and ask for directions.
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