Our story continues in Washington, Connecticut. Another sleepy New England town; the major attractions are the 3 screen movie theater that plays "Tropic Thunder" on loop and the Whites Only (not really, but actually) country club that houses the bi-monthly over-65 pinochle championship. This is where Plotzman found himself murdered to the point of near death.
Plotzman, a middle-aged Jew with poor eyesight and a bum knee, found himself limping about one humid Sunday afternoon. After a series of wrong turns, he ended up on a Tennis court at the "Whiteman Blackiehate Country Estates", a unique country club for racists that also hated themselves. Gourmet Magazine proclaimed it "THE must-see destination for Self-Loathers".
Plotzman refused to wear glasses, because he believed that the Bible should be followed to the letter, and as we all know, Leviticus 25.13 states "thou shall not touch thyself in the poophole on a Tuesday, whistle with a Virgin during Sabbath, or sport eyewear that might cause the twinkling of a blond girl's Clitoris (whatever that mayth beeeth)". Plotzman also believed that the drunk scribblings of his frat buddies were the word of the Lord. He also didn't get out much on the weekends.
Squinting at the Tennis court, Plotzman noticed a sign that he thought said "Pinocchio". Excited, he made his way over to what he believed was a movie theater.
As he got closer to the movie theater, he noticed it was a really ugly baby. "How did I mistake an ugly baby for a movie theater?", he wondered. This made him philosophical: "If I cannot see what's in front of my eyes, perhaps NPR is really interesting! Perhaps black is white! Perhaps my Penis is just an inside out Vagina!".
It was during this last pithy thought that he ran into the woman who would murder him in about 2 minutes. Her name was Kathy; an overweight Evangelical Christian who believed that the exclamation "Gosh!" was not to be used in polite conversation.
"Good Morrow, My Fair Lady! Have you heard of Pinocchio? Perchance where it might be playing?" It wasn't until the autopsy was it revealed that Plotzman had a stroke three seconds before he opened his mouth.
Kathy, who wasn't so much "hard of hearing" as she was "not listening and hearing what she wanted to hear" responded thusly:
"Knights of Pythias? You know in order to join that organization you must believe in a higher power. Being that there is only one higher power...JESUS...I can't tell you where it is unless you tell me that...JESUS...is your higher power. Do you agree that...JESUS...is your higher power?"
Kathy began speaking in tongues and dancing the Mochacha. This confused Plotzman, as the Mochacha doesn't exist.
"No, I believe you didn't hear me, I'm looking for Pinocchio. The movie?"
"MOVIE!?!? Movies are the vile maraschino cherries on the putrid chocolate bunt cake that is Satan's bottom!"
Plotzman now realized this woman was a tad "unstable" and began to formulate the excuse which would directly lead to his death:
"Uhm, it's a little drafty over here, I think I'm going to go inside to get out of the cold".
Kathy leaned over to him and whispered: "Cold? Don't you know that Cold is just God's way of telling us to burn more Jews and Catholics?"
"I'm Jewish."
Kathy's eyes opened as wide as she could possibly make them; it wasn't an instinctive reaction, but she knew she had to do it for dramatic effect.
"Jewish? JEEEWWWWISH? JESUS WANTS YOU TO BURN UNLESS YOU CONVERT!!!"
"Gosh, wasn't Jesus Jewish, actually?"
Kathy grabbed her bible, which was sharpened into a knife-like weapon which she called her "Unbeliever Bible Stabber", which she was convinced was the most humane way of killing people, because not only was it incredibly effective, but it also purified the soul as it brutally murdered. "A little piece of the bible in every stab!™", she thought would be the catch-phrase if it was ever marketed.
She pulled back and GUTTED Plotzman in the stomach with her UBS.
"Ouch!", he exclaimed..."that rather hurt a tad".
He looked down at the Bible and pulled out the particular page that was stabbing him. It was Leviticus 25.13. In his last remaining moments as a corporeal being, he reread the chapter, which is when he realized there was nothing about eyewear.
As he closed his eyes to die, he came to understand three important things:
1) Always buy two Bibles to double check inaccuracies
2) Never mess with an overweight Evangelical Christian
3) Modern Poetry is filled with overwrought metaphor
He wasn't quite sure where that last bit o' knowledge came in, but it sounded like it should be right. He breathed his last breath, understanding the irony of the fact that the very bible which told him to go glassesless and thereby landed him in this awful place, also murdered him.
He didn't care much, except that he left the light on in the bathroom and this month's energy bill would bankrupt him.
A Jew to the end, he thought.
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