Oy!: The Ultimate Book of Jewish Jokes (29 page)

Rivkah, a little old lady, gets on an El Al flight to Israel. She’s carrying a bag, a purse and a little dog in a box. She sits down and puts the box on the seat next to her. A stewardess approaches Rivkah and says, “I’m sorry Madam, but you can’t keep the dog here. I’ll have to take it and put it in baggage.”

Rivkah agrees. What else can she do?

During the flight, the stewardess looks in on the little dog, and
Oy Gevalt,
the dog is dead. She informs the pilot who notifies Tel Aviv airport who tells the director who decides that they will get another dog to replace this one. The little old lady will never know. When the plane lands and Rivkah goes to the baggage hall to claim her box, they bring her a box with a new dog, an exact replica of her old dog.

“This is not my dog,” Rivkah exclaims.

“Why yes it is,” the captain tells her. “See, it has the same markings.”

“This is not my dog,” Rivkah insists.

“How do you know this isn’t your dog?” asks the captain.

“My dog is dead! I was bringing it here to be buried!”

David received a parrot for his birthday. This parrot was fully grown, with a bad attitude and worse vocabulary. Every other word was a swear word. Those that weren’t were, to say the least, rude. David tried hard to change the bird’s attitude and was constantly saying polite words, playing soft Israeli dance music, anything that came to mind. Nothing worked. He yelled at the bird, but the bird got worse. He shook the bird and the bird got madder and ruder. Finally, in a moment of desperation, David put the parrot in the freezer. For a few moments he heard the bird squawking, kicking and screaming and then, suddenly, all was quiet. David was frightened that he might have actually hurt the bird and quickly opened the freezer door.

The parrot calmly stepped out onto David’s extended arm and said, “I’m sorry that I offended you with my language and actions. I ask for your forgiveness. I will go to synagogue with you every week to pray and I will try to modify my behavior.”

David was astounded at the bird’s change in attitude and was about to ask what changed him when the parrot continued, “May I ask what the chicken did?”

Meyer, a lonely widower, was walking home one day, wishing something wonderful would happen to his life when he passed a pet store and heard a squawking voice shouting out in Yiddish, “Quawwwwk—vus macht du—yeah, du—outside, standing like a putzel—eh?"

Meyer couldn’t believe what he was hearing and went inside, and was soon standing in front of an African Gray. The parrot cocked his little head and said, “Vus? Kenst reddin Yiddish?”

Meyer turned excitedly to the owner. “He speaks Yiddish!” In a matter of moments, Meyer had written out a check for $500 and carried the parrot, still in his cage, out of the shop. All night he talked with the parrot in Yiddish—about his family and his career, and the parrot’s life in the pet shop.

The next morning, Meyer began to put on his
tefillin
while saying his prayers. The parrot demanded to know what he was doing, and when Meyer explained, the parrot wanted to do likewise. So Meyer went out and bought a hand-made miniature set of
tefillin
for the parrot. The parrot wanted to learn to
daven
and so Meyer taught him every prayer. He wanted to learn to read Hebrew so Meyer spent weeks and months sitting and teaching him the Torah. In time, Meyer came to love and count on the parrot as a friend and a Jew. He had been saved.

One morning, on Rosh Hashanah, Meyer rose and got dressed and was about to leave when the parrot demanded to go with him. Meyer explained that
shut
was not a place for a bird, but the parrot made a terrific fuss and was carried to
shul
on Meyer’s shoulder. Needless to say, they made quite a spectacle and Meyer was questioned by everyone, including the rabbi and cantor. At first they refused to allow a bird into the building on the High Holy Days, but Meyer convinced them to let him in this one time, swearing that the parrot could
daven.
Some bets were made with Meyer. Thousands of dollars were bet that the parrot could not
daven,
could not speak Yiddish or Hebrew, and so on. All eyes were on the African Gray during the service. The parrot perched on Meyer’s shoulder as one prayer and song passed—but Meyer heard not a peep from the bird. He began to become annoyed, slapping at his shoulder and mumbling under his breath,
“Daven!"

Nothing.
“Daven
—parrot, you can
daven,
so
daven
—come on, everybody’s looking at you!”

Nothing. After the Rosh Hashanah service was over, Meyer worked out that he owed over $4,000. He marched home angrily, saying nothing. Finally, several streets away from the
shul,
the bird began to sing an old Yiddish song and was happy as could be. Meyer stopped and looked at him.

“You miserable bird, you cost me over $4,000. Why? After I bought you your own
tefillin
and taught you the morning prayers and to read Hebrew and the Torah. And after you begged me to bring you to
shul
on Rosh Hashanah, why? Why did you do this to me?”

“Don’t be a
shmuck,”
the parrot replied. “The odds will be much better on Yom Kippur.”

Meyer’s parrot had died and he was lonely once again. He quickly decided that life would be more fun if he had another pet. So Meyer went back to the pet shop and told the owner that he wanted to buy another pet, but this time a bit more unusual. After some discussion, he finally bought a talking centipede, which came in a little white box to use for his house. Meyer took the box home. He found a good place to put it and decided he would immediately take his new pet to the local pub to have a drink and show it off. He asked the centipede in the box, “Would you like to go to The Leather Bottle with me and have a beer?"

But there was no answer from his new pet. This bothered Meyer a bit, but he waited a few minutes and then asked his pet again, “How about going to The Leather Bottle and having a drink with me?”

But again, there was no answer from his new friend and pet. So Meyer waited a few minutes more, thinking about the situation. He decided to ask one more time, this time putting his face up against the centipede’s house and shouting, “Hey, you in there! Would you like to go to The Leather Bottle and have a drink with me?”

A little voice came out of the box: “I heard you the first time! I’m putting on my shoes.”

One day, Hetty approaches her rabbi after the service and says to him, “Rabbi, I have a problem. I have two female talking parrots, but they only know how to say one thing.”

“What do they say?” the rabbi asks.

“They only know how to say, ‘Hello, we’re prostitutes, want to have some fun?’”

“Why, that’s terrible!” the rabbi says, “but I have a solution to your problem. Bring your two female parrots over to my house tomorrow and I will put them with my two male talking parrots whom I taught to pray and read Hebrew. My parrots will teach your parrots to stop saying that terrible phrase and your female parrots will learn to praise and worship.”

“Oh thank you, Rabbi,” Hetty replies.

The next day Hetty brings her female parrots to the rabbi’s house. His two male parrots are wearing tiny
yarmulkas
and praying in their cage. Hetty puts her two female parrots in with the male parrots and the female parrots say, “Hello, we’re prostitutes, want to have some fun?”

One male parrot looks over at the other male parrot and exclaims, “Put away the Siddurs! Our prayers have been answered!”

Moshe wants to buy a parrot and goes to his local pet shop to see what they have. The assistant shows him a parrot and explains that this one is really quite special—it can speak most languages. So Moshe decides to test this out.

“Do you speak English?” asks Moshe.

“Yes,” replied the parrot.

“Habla español?”
asks Moshe.

“Si,” replied the parrot.

“
’Parlez-vouz français?”
asks Moshe.

“Oui,”
replied the parrot.

“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”
asks Moshe.

“Ja”
replied the parrot.

“Falas português?”
asks Moshe.

“Sim,”
replied the parrot.

Moshe pauses for a while, then asks the parrot, “Do you speak Yiddish?”

The parrot shrugs its shoulders and says, “Vis a nose like dis, vot you tink?”