“C’mon Jerry!” The voice of a stocky, bald man echoes through the small cafe. “Just for a day I need the car!”

“I’m sorry, George.” A taller man with a horse grin says unapologetically.

“But it’s my father’s bris! He’s gone without it for years and this is his chance to finally nip the tip! You can come! You’re Jewish, right?”

“Yes, I’m Jewish, George. The thing is—” (Jerry hunches forward) “—I need the car for a date this weekend.” A small creeps across Jerry’s face as he sits back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. George sits still with an increasingly open jaw.

“A date this weekend? You mean on Friday?”

“Oh, I mean Friday.” Laughs spill across stage.

“On the Sabbath? Oh, I don’t think so! What would Rabbi Diamond say?”

“Who cares what the Rabbi thinks anyway?” as Jerry sips his coffee, eyes never leaving George.

“A lot of people, that’s who!” Splurts George indignantly. “You dare make any fire, push any buttons, even think about eating pork and I’ll knock your block!”