A tear-jerking tale of deceit

A man journeyed to Chelm in order to seek the advice of Rabbi Ben Kaddish, the holiest of all eighth century rabbis and perhaps the greatest of the medieval era.

‘Rabbi’, the man asked, ‘in what form may I find true happiness?’

The Rabbi looked at the man curiously for a few short seconds and pondered the question.

‘True happiness is found only by those who do not seek it’ was the Rabbi’s response. This puzzled the man but not wanting to question Ben Kaddish, he made his way out of the palace.

The man was Tomas Karem, a well-known tofu smuggler from the infamous West coast of Israel. He had two children, both of whom had unnatural obsessions with the phenomenon of cork, and both of whom supported the local football team, Al Shiraq eleven, third in the national league. They lived together in a tiny thatched hut, originally erected for use as a cowshed, but which miraculously lost all of its cows in the great summer of 871. Tomas had spent years studying philosophy and law at the local college when he was a little younger, and he considered himself well racked in the brains department, although there was one question he had been asking himself since a man in a shopping centre had confused him with a hotdog in the not so great summer of 872.

After many years spent travelling the globe in search of true happiness, he decided to visit Ben Kaddish. He had already seen a few of the lesser known Rabbis – Ahmesh Khan and Akbar Sherwani to name but a few but the only thing he had learnt from his visits was that he was allergic to turbans.

On his journey to Chelm he came across Haris Baumel, who was to feature largely in Tomas’ harrowing tale. On first impression, Haris had seemed an intelligent, kind person (he even offered Tomas his last éclair) but sadly, this was not the case. Unfortunately, Tomas did not see through this benevolent façade and the two instantly developed a friendship (Tomas really did like éclairs). They carried on with their journey, totally unaware of what lay before them, and with ever step the comradeship only became stronger.

Tomas would frequently start singing his favourite songs on their long walks through the various forests of Israel, and, not wanting to destroy their synthetic friendship, Haris would always hum along, at least with something resembling the basic tune.

However, on one particularly long, seemingly meandering walk in the heart of Katia Forest, Tomas began to sing a famous Israeli folkdance song, the aptly named ‘Yarmulke Meeskeit Shimmel (Part Two)’. Any self respecting Israelite would have known the tune, but Haris did not. Tomas knew something was up after seven minutes. The humming should have started after four minutes and thirty-seven seconds, but it never came. Tomas didn’t want to say anything but suspicions over Haris’ ‘Israeli’ upbringing had started to creep into his mind. There was an awkward silence for the rest of their trek through the forest, only interrupted when a bureaucrat fell off his tractor in a nearby field, which eased the tension somewhat.

Eventually they found themselves at a humble, yet pleasant inn, recently voted fourth most humble, yet pleasant inn in the smash Israeli magazine, ‘Keeker Ahber Harulk’ (which roughly translates as ‘Inns for all Occasions’). Their conversation with the innkeeper in this particular in inn was strange. You might even call it bizarre. Apparently they were mistaken for two members of the royal family due to arrive later that evening. It was all a very confusing affair but at the end of it all the innkeeper was lying motionless on the floor next to a rather large trout.

Tomas knew what he had done, and he knew the consequences. Tomas thought back to his law lessons at college and tried to remember the punishment for killing an innkeeper with a trout. As he recollected the punishment, Tomas let out a small shriek. It was twelve years (eight for good behaviour). He panicked and decided to run but it was too late. Handcuffs were being snapped around his trembling wrists. He looked up at the man enforcing the law and a look of dismay quickly spread across his tired face.

Days later, in the colossal house of correction that is the Tetsar state prison, Tomas wondered if he would ever make it to Chelm. He knew he had to escape the prison- and as soon as possible. Just three hours later Tomas began to dig. He dug and dug, he scooped and burrowed, he excavated and he tunnelled.

It was a humid day in Tetsar when he finished and he sighed with relief. It had almost killed him, but he had finally finished. As he was about to escape through the tunnel, Haris came to the front of the cell.
‘It’s been eight years, you are free to leave. And look, I’m sorry for doing this to you, but it’s my job.’
Tomas felt explosions inside his stomach and mind but he controlled his anger long enough to walk out without making a scene. It had been the longest journey of Tomas’ life (not to mention the most frustrating) but he knew he was nearing Chelm. He hoped Ben Kaddish would make it all worthwhile.
‘Rabbi’, Tomas asked, ‘in what form may I find true happiness?’
The Rabbi looked at Tomas curiously for a few short seconds and pondered the question.

‘True happiness is found only by those who do not seek it’ was the Rabbi’s response. This puzzled Tomas but not wanting to question Ben Kaddish, he made his way out of the palace.

‘Well, that was a waste of time’ Tomas thought to himself, and walked home.