"Then Ceramic Moses toppled into the shopping cart the SJG was schlepping to the trash bin in the condominium, Moses with the two tablets of testimony in his hand, tablets that had broken so many times over the course of, what, 40 years, that no amount of super glue could bind them. Ceramic Moses wore no clothes, did I forget to mention that? And as soon as Naked Moses tumbled into the cart, the SJG knew in her heart that his anger burned hot, for she hadn't used her keppy, she hadn't wrapped Clay Moses in a nice warm Hebraic blanket of protection. She meant to, she really did. But she was too tired and achy from all that schlepping. And Hand-Crafted Moses was her favorite tchotchke, the best tchotchke of all, the one she'd fully intended to display in her humble Sherman Oaks shrine. Given her worship of Folk Art Moses, why had she been so careless as to perch him precariously on the mount of the shopping cart, a reckless decision for which she deserves to suffer for Eternity, if not longer? Then Moses threw the tablets out of his hand, in a biblical gesture of disgust, and crumbled into pieces before her eyes. Whereupon she begged forgiveness, said a quick kaddish, and tossed Broken Moses into the bin, along with the patio chairs and the paper clips, the carbon paper and the 400 rubber bands, and went home to mourn Moses in silence."
SJG 2-6-14
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