Are You Kosher?
Authors: Russell Andresen
Are You
Kosher?
Memoirs of a
Jewish Vampire
Russell Andresen
iUniverse, Inc.
New York Bloomington
Are You Kosher?
Memoirs of a Jewish Vampire
Copyright © 2010 by Russell Andresen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-4075-8 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-4502-4077-2 (ebk)
ISBN: 978-1-4502-4076-5 (hbk)
Printed in the United States of America
iUniverse rev. date: 7/29/10
This book is dedicated to my mother, Judy, for all of the undeserved love and support that she has happily provided over the years.
And to my brother Joshua, who has helped me continue to keep the active imagination that made this book possible.
Contents
Misconceptions
Jews Taste Like … What Is That?
Jesus and the Twelve Shmendriks
Vampires Die in the Sun
New York
Vampires Are Afraid of Crosses
Life, Politics, and Other Forms of Dreck
Holy Sheygets
Bloodsucking 101
Where Did I Come From?
Pork:
A Jewish Vampire’s Confession
Vampires Are Afraid of Holy Water
Religion: Life’s Great Comedy
You Are What You Eat
Alter Kocker of the Lost Ark
Vampires Are Immortal
Yankel
Mom. The Jewish Word for Pain.
Joseph: The Amazing Technicolor Faygelah
Gripes
The New World
For the Cause
So You Think You Have Problems?
Vampires Don’t Eat Human Food
Cravings
My Daily Routine
The Worst Night of My Life
The Vampire’s Bucket list
Freud Shmeud
I Predict That You’re Gonna Catch a Beating
Who Are Your Friends?
Vampires Sleep in Coffins
Drugs Are Bad
Chef Izzy
Vampires Can Turn into Bats
My Guilt
No Offense
Vampires Don’t Reflect in Mirrors
Samson
Vampires Are Bloodthirsty Monsters
The New Neighbors
Coming to Terms
Vampires Always Keep a Coven of Female Slaves
My Side of the Story: A Testimonial by Zena Glassman
Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?
So Long, Farewell, Abi Gazunt, Good-bye
Prologue
I am a paradox. An interesting way to start a conversation, I’m sure, but then again, I am an interesting man.
I’m a liberal thinker, but always lean toward the Republican way of thinking.
I love the beach, but fear the sun because of skin cancer.
I am a religious person, but not spiritual.
I read the Torah, but believe in Jesus.
I think that the pig is one of the most noble animals on the planet, but do not indulge in the pleasures of pork. At least, as far as
Bubbe
knows.
I am kosher, yet I drink blood, or feast, as I prefer to refer to it.
Did I mention? I am a vampire. A Jewish one. Now do you see the paradox? It’s not every day that you hear that statement.
I have been alive for almost six thousand years and have seen and done a lot in my time on this planet. I have been a firsthand witness to the follies of humanity, and because of that I have spent countless dollars in therapy. Sigmund Freud was almost sent to madness trying to psychoanalyze me. How can you tell someone what is wrong with him without even being able to comprehend what is going on in his mind?
Part of the problem is that I am not alone. My mother and bubbe are also vampires. My fellow Jews will appreciate this. Almost six thousand years of nagging and kvetching is enough to drive anyone insane. Somehow, I’ve been able to adapt. The myth of the domineering Jewish mother or bubbe is no myth.
Imagine if you were immortal. That would be great, right? Now imagine if even at the age of 5,974 you still had to call whenever you were going to be late. If you stepped out of line in the smallest degree, you had to be afraid of facing the wrath of your bubbe’s wooden spoon. Realizing that unless some Van Helsing wannabe comes along with a properly aimed stake, your life is going to last forever, and so is that of the two Jewish nudges that you live with. My nagging will never end, my friends.
I’m here to tell you that it is not easy being a Jewish vampire.
First of all, you have to reconcile the whole bloodsucking issue. That’s not kosher. I pride myself on not being a hypocrite, but this is a hard one to shake. Bloodsucking by its very nature is wrong in any facet of society, let alone Jewish culture. Second, finding a girl, or G-d help me a guy if absolutely necessary, to feast on who is still kosher in this day and age is no small task.
What might make this entire enterprise even worse is the fact that I am writing these memoirs on the Sabbath. What else am I supposed to do? I can’t watch TV—that would constitute work. I can’t go out feasting—any self-respecting Jewish girl would be keeping herself locked up in the safety of her home under the watchful eye of her rabbi father. The only thing to do is sit around your room, wait for the sun to go down to mark the end of the Sabbath, and play with your
shmekel
, which probably could be considered work, depending on your own personal virility.
I decided to write my memoirs. It’s something that I have wanted to do for a long time, and I figured that now is as good a time as any. Sabbath or no, like I said, I am a paradox.
I could go out for a walk, which is allowed, but then I would have to hear Bubbe: “Izzy, where are you going on
shabbas
?” That’s my name by the way, Isidore Glassman; you can call me Izzy.
“I’m going out feasting, Bubbe!” I would reply.
“On shabbas? I don’t like that!” the
alter kocker
would reply. What does she expect from me? I am a vibrant, curious man who wants to have more out of his Friday nights than waiting to eat her Sabbath
cholent
and kasha
varnishkas
on Saturday afternoon.
By the way, that’s a major vampire misconception. We love to eat. We don’t just exist on the blood of others; we can get down and dirty with the best of them at the dinner table. If you are Jewish or from New York, you know what I am talking about. The sinful pleasures of kugel, the properly cooked brisket, a really good knish, and the erotic, yes, erotic pleasures of the perfectly prepared sweet-and-sour meatball.
Why am I telling you all of this? Why not? Like I said, I have nothing else to do for the next twenty-four hours and this is something that I have been thinking about for a long time. Am I breaking the Sabbath? Yes. I won’t tell if you don’t. Freud couldn’t figure me out, so why not just spill my guts to you? Writing is supposed to be good for the soul, so I say, let’s test the theory. Of course, you can’t tell Bubbe. That would be bad. Very bad. Trust me.
I am sure that you are saying to yourself right now,
I thought you said you were a vampire
. I am a vampire. And if you are looking for this to be one of those gory, hedonistic, thrill-a-minute vampire tales, then you are probably reading the wrong book, or you are reading too many books. That is not what vampires are all about. Where did you get your beliefs on what vampires are, after all? The writings of non-vampires. I am a vampire. You are getting your information directly from the source.
Don’t get me wrong; there will be stories of blood and guts. Juicy little tidbits, no pun intended, and even a couple of tales of sexual prowess and downright machismo.
If you noticed, I don’t like to waste time with telling you what color the foliage is, or the music playing in the background when I’m getting ready to feast. This is not
War and Peace
. It is a memoir, and I like to keep things simple.
We are going to have some fun, hopefully, and maybe we will all learn something by the end of this evening.
L’chaim
!
