South Dakota Jewish Autonomous Zone Ch.4

Chapter 4: The Bar Mitzvah.

The Grand Yakuza Committee, The GYC, is the form of government within the South Dakota Jewish Autonomous Zone. They meet every quarter to discuss the on-goings within the cities and districts and share updates they feel are important. Every family has its Abba, and every Abba has his own grand rabbi who accompanies them to the GYC meetings. The grand rabbis meet in a separate room and discuss interpretations of the Torah that are crucial for that meeting. At the committee which occurred only two weeks ago, the Goldberg and Cohen Abbas revealed a plan that has sent waves throughout the underworld. A coalition will be formed. The Cohens and the Goldbergs, for the first time in the history of this very Jewish state, operated under the same flag. A white banner carrying a Golden Horn, twisted at its thin end, and wrapped in a red silken cloth. The Burning Horn of The Israelites. This unification reverberated throughout the land, and as power and resources combined and grew, they found themselves with more than they knew what to do with. What was once a great tension and fight, now stands a brotherhood; a partnership for life and beyond. The Burning Horn symbolizes their undying march onwards and forwards towards grand heights, the righteous place for the sons of Abraham, Joseph, Issac, and Jacob. Hashem's chosen people, taking their claim and becoming more numerous than grains of sand in the ocean. It was truly a beautiful world.

Peter and Daniel exited the shop. The Abraham's Fabulous Foreskin Shop sign glowed a pale orange, illuminating the faces of the departing boys. The wind blew a lovely breeze between, fluttering their coats, and filling them with a joyful warmth. They fixed their fine suits and headed east down the street. Right as they turned, a crowd of four zunhs appeared in front of them. The one that appeared to be the alpha of the group went up to Peter, caressed his chest, the movement of her arm caused the hair tucked behind her ear to fall on her shoulder. It was crusty and looked as if it hadn't been washed for an unimaginable amount of time. "You boys vilsti hobn a fun time?" She asked, now twisting and twirling the stiff lock of hair in her finger. Daniel couldn't help but notice the utter lack of Yarmulke on top of these women's heads. In standard Jewish tradition, women did not need to wear kippah or any religious markers like tallits or tefflins, but that culture shifted heavily in the move to the autonomous zone and the birth of its unique jewish identity, women started wearing these flags of faith. So for a woman to lack even a kippah showed that they were truly underclass scum..

"Oy vey, Daniel," Peter turned and looked at Daniel with a smirk.

"I'm sorry ladies but we have to be off," Daniel tilted down his bald head, showing the Cohen yarmulke. One of the Zunh in the back screeched at the sight of it. The three other zunh huddled together in fear. The one in the front took a step back and said, "I see, we made a mistake. Es tut mir layd," she looked afraid, as if Daniel was going to attack her. Turning her most outwards shoulder in, and placing her feet in a position to make a hasty retreat. He picked up on this and quickly said, through many stutters, "I should be the one apologizing," he looked at Peter and then back at the Zunh. "I don't know what we did to offend, but we didn't mean to harm y-you..."he paused, thinking about the next word he was going to say. "lovely women." He put on a very serious face while resisting its contortion into a smile, holding back his true feelings on their appearances.

"If you don't know the meaning behind what you're wearing, don't wear it." one of the women in the back said.

Peter, Daniel, and the women in the front all looked at each other in an awkward, uncomfortable silence.

"I see what's happened here," said the alpha zunh, looking down at the ground. "The Cohens treat us, zunh, so poorly. We've been through hell at their hands. That symbol you're so proudly showing off is a symbol of fear and violence to us. Things aren't always how they appear. Your friendly neighborhood Yakuza man isn't your best friend like they want you to think. Don't trust one of them for nothing. Pieces of filth, all of them"

"Woah woah woah now, I'm not going to sit here and start taking lessons from...from..."

Peter cut off Daniel before he could finish his sentence. "Zayt mir moykhl, you four seem like lovely frowen, I hope Hashem blesses you and lets you leave this rasha lifestyle behind. But we really need to be on our way." He then met his hands together and prayed for the lowly rashas who, in the large scale of things, were nothing but a stain on the carpet of life for the powers that be.

The zunh in the front bowed at Peter, hands met in prayer. She quickly turned on her heel, snapped, and signaled for the rest, who were no longer in a huddle but still showed visible fear, to start walking. On another snap they turned around and passed Peter and Daniel, slightly bumping Daniel into the wall. After Daniel calmed down, they started walking again. At the designated sign, they turned to their left and headed up Khoref street where their destination awaited them: The Beth Shalom Synagogue.

They walked up to the large, wooden doors, looked up, saw the name written above, in an arch shape. Dark stained Hebrew characters "??? ????".

They slowly pushed open the door and could hear Mashiach by Eitan Massuri blaring from stage speakers. They could smell the garlic from the shakshuka wafting around the large auditorium which was inhabited by numerous party goers. Most were here for the free food or to just hang out. Blue, white, and gold party streamers waved in the wind of the AC. Prayer shawls and Payot density was at an all time high. Flashing lights strobbed to the beat of the music. In the far corner sat a makeshift kitchen, latkes and gefilte fish made hot and ready. The pews were lined with pamphlets and goody bags. The air was fresh and holy and Peter set his eyes on a group of women next to the punch bowl he decided to test his luck with.

Let's put aside all of that political nonsense for now and get into the festive Bar Mitzvah!

"Mazel Tov, maan mishpokhe!" Peter said, arms extended out to the sides.

"Daniel, Peter! Welcome!", Shouted the Rabbi from across the main hall.

"Rav Weisenbockfeld, It's wonderful to see you," Daniel replied

"It's good to see you too my boys, only last week were you two in yom kippur!"

"It's been more time than that and you know it, HAH", said Peter.

"Leave this old fool alone, go have fun children, it's what today is for! food and drinks are catered and covered, so you don't gotta worry about a thing".

The two boys gave a loving smile and wave to Rav Weisenbockfeld and they began to mingle themselves about the festivities. After splitting up, Peter headed straight for a group of four girls who appeared to be the same age as him.

"Hey Ladies, how are we doing over here?" He said while leaning against the wall with his arm.

A thought struck him, "in order to get women, I must pozah for them, they all love it!!"

Peter had the perfect recipe for disaster cooked up. Legs spread apart, feet facing opposite directions, hands up as if he was being arrested, jacket collar flared, fingers wiggling, head tilted fully back. This new pozah Peter had just thought up, he decided to name "The Verklempt '' due to how he thought it would make women feel about him. Ironically, however, this verklempt pozah had the opposite effect on this group. As he was still holding the pozah, they laughed at him and left, leaving Peter absolutely devastated. "How did that not work," he thought, "It was perfect. Maybe they all have boyfriends already," was how Peter decided to rationalize the situation.

Daniel however, was having the opposite experience. He was talking with who appeared to him to be Batya's older sister, Chana. Daniel was cracking jokes left and right, he was killing it. "Gute was attending a morning brit milah, all things were turning up mensch up until the metzitzah. When Gute witnessed the metzitzah, he was appalled. I thought this was called a circumcision, not a suctioncision." As he finished telling his best joke yet, he began slapping his knee vigorously, saying louder and more intensely after each joke, "now that's a real knee slapper!" And the crowd agreed, they were not only slapping their own knees, but some were even rolling on the floor dead from laughter.

Peter looked over at the success of Daniel and jealousy struck. Peter thought, "maybe it really was the group and I just got unlucky. I'll try the same pozah with these schmucks, see how Daniel likes that." Peter proceeded to walk over to where Daniel and the others were and struck the same pozah he did before. He was ultimately met with the same reaction.

Daniel, realizing the opportunity that had presented itself before him, busted out a pozah of his own. His turtleneck pulled over his nose, glasses lowered over the cloth where his mouth would be, his hands holding the glasses, elbows jutting out sharply, and his glorious necklace falling perfectly out to the front of his chest, laying wholesomely on his large breast muscles. Everyone was in awe, they couldn't believe it, they had never seen a pozah as dynamic and as stylish as this.

The hubbub caused by Daniel's pozah caught the attention of one Anshel Cohen. A rather slim, fit, and proper man. Although most citizens in the Autonomous Zone give up exercise in exchange for more time to study the Torah, Anshel considers exercise and hygiene to be very important. He always defends his way of life by quoting a verse directly from the Torah, the law of this land, "Devarin 4:15 'And you shall watch yourselves very well, for you did not see any image on the day that the Lord spoke to you at Horeb from the midst of the fire'. This was interpreted by his Grand Rabbi as "You will watch your health very carefully, for you saw the image of the Lord at Horeb from the midst of the fire," and because of Beresit 1:26, "Then G-d said, 'Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.'" Not only did he keep his body fit as Hashem would, he also took the "rule over...all the creatures that move along the ground," part very seriously, which is why he is always wearing ten inch stiletto high heel boots, the seams studded with rhinestones, the laces made out of the finest alpaca wool, the leather from cattle who were living in the finest of conditions. The rest of his outfit consisted of a typical three piece suit, well at least two of those pieces were there. Instead of stereotypical suit pants, Anshel chooses to wear assless chaps. Lastly, you can't forget the iconic Cohen family kippah which rests quietly upon his shiny, hairless head. All this being said the pozah he was about to bust out was going to be one of nimbility and bravery.

He walked away from Chaim and locked eyes with Daniel, who at this point was still locked in a fierce psychological war with Peter, who had now brought back the classic pozah he had used on Daniel just earlier that day. The wide stand and point, it was enough to bring even a few yakuza men to their knees out of the pure, primal terror that pozah elicits from the untrained spirit.

Anshel, prepared to not only disrupt and infiltrate an ongoing pozah-off, but will obliterate the competition in the process. He situated himself a few feet behind the crowd, leaning against one of the various wooden beams supporting the synagogue. A spot not visible to them, but he knew, oh he knew that the raw potential and unfettered power of this pozah would draw their attention. Still leaning on the beam, he turned to the side, lifted his front leg up, hooked that foot around the standing leg, creating a triangle of sorts. His elbows, placed atop the risen thigh, chin resting in his palm, contorting his torso. The other hand however, had its fingers splayed carefree, yet as elegant as ever. It was beautiful.

An audience member once recounted this experience at a later date with only two words, "pure fear".

Everyone immediately turned around, Peter and Daniel included. They were forced to drop their pozah, how could anyone endure to stay in their own pozah when an infinitely more potent and deadly pozah was only ten feet to your right. No one, not even Hashem himself could have remained pozah'd in this man's presence.

In the moment Peter thought to himself, "how could an energy as raw as this be radiating from such a simple man. It is the same energy I feel whenever I know I am talking with Hashem Himself."

Daniel, however, smirked, said, "is that the best you've got," and hit a new pozah of his own. This time around Daniel wasn't joking, he was serious, as serious as he could ever be, and he chose a pozah to match. Legs spread as far as he could get them, feet turned inwards. Left arm bent in at the shoulder and up at the elbow, hand covering his face, fingers splayed. The other arm, back and to the side displaying an air of mystery to it. A member of the crowd recounted it with, "I didn't know what to think, I was awestruck. That arm, oh that arm. I was lost in a spiral of confusion and doubt, about my own life, about my faith. That arm broke me."

Peter, now beginning to get jealous of the attention he's not getting, brought out a new pozah, one he had kept secret for a long while. He cleared his throat loudly to bring attention to him. Posterior shoved back, torso hung forward on short arms. His head was thrown back, and his left leg was slightly kicked out, leaving only his right one to balance upon.

The crowd was now locked in warfare. They couldn't escape if they wanted to. Those unfortunate enough to be trapped in the middle of this triangular war experienced something special, something none other than them got to experience. Some of the witnesses described the experience as if the ground itself was shaking, the building trembling, some could even hear the angels sing from the heavens, which were opening up due to the monstrous energy being collected into one spot.

The three warriors of G-d held their pozah for the next hour and a half, even the observers stayed motionless. As if done by magnets, the three were slowly moving closer together, all the while their pozah held perfectly still.

The rabbi on the stage, next to Chaim, tapped the microphone and said, "If I could get everyone's attention, we are about to start the aliyah of this bar mitzvah. As you all know, aliyah is typically done on the sabbath after the child's bar mitzvah, but we have been requested to hold it now, and I see no reason why The Lord wouldn't mind the pardon for such an upstanding and well adjusted soon-to-be young adult. So without further ado, we must wrap the tefillin on him. The verses are already placed inside the phylactery box. They were chosen by Chaim himself and will be recited during his aliyah. Chaim, will you please come up to the mic."

The sudden announcement sparked the same thought within every person inside the synagogue, "they're going to have to drop their pozah, who will be the victor?!"

Peter, Daniel, and Anshel, still locked into a fierce mental war, all start to slowly drop their pozahs. Due to Daniel's pozah, he's the first to drop, Anshel next. Peter, at this point, is crying tears of pure joy. He had never felt euphoria such as this. He had won. All the women immediately started flocking to him, calling him the "sexiest holy object out there," Peter had truly won.

After the hour and a half bonding session that just occurred between the three, they were now quite friendly with each other. They even sat in the same pew.

Chaim, clearly nervous, slowly walked up to the Bimah. His anxious smile permeated through his childish attempt to hide it. He cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and prepared. The same instant he opened his eyes, he began reciting the speech that was written for him earlier that day, "Mazel Tov, alehman. Welcome to m-my b-bar mitzvah, I will now recite a few verses from the Torah. Firstly Devarim 5:33,'You shall walk in all the way which the Lord your G-d has commanded you, that you may live and that it may be well with you, and that you may prolong your days in the land which you will possess." The crowd was very pleased at his public speaking abilities and the degree to which he memorized these verses.

"Psalter 121 'I lift up my eyes to the mountains -- where does my help come from? My help comes from Adonai who made heaven and earth," he continued. "For my third and final verse, I will be reciting Devarim 15:11, 'Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord.'"

It happened in just a moment. With mechanical precision; as a fly knowledgeably flaps its wings to maneuver the harsh air currents. As the word "Lord" was formed in, and left, Chaim's mouth, a man stood up. To the attendees who noticed him in the brief seconds they could, he appeared to be your average looking jew. Nothing too forthcoming about him. His attire was bleak and minimal, just a coat, slacks, a respectable undershirt, and of course to top it all off, a kippah. For all anyone knew, he was a part of the Cohen family and was standing to show support for the boy-becoming-man on stage. A rather odd gesture but maybe he was a schmuck some thought. Others may have thought he may have been Chaim's teacher or personal rabbi. There was nothing special to this man.

However his standing acted as a signal for others to stand. Four men stood spread across the synagogue floor. All four, with the same exact, precise movements, quickly placed their hand into the left side of their jackets. Before the majority of the crowd noticed anything was going on, four gun shots went off. Two struck Chaim directly in his forehead right above each eyeball. Another pierced, almost surgically, into his heart. The last, as if some sort of message or threat from the attackers, hit him in his groin. The gunfire signaled more men to enter the synagogue. What appeared to be sixteen Yakuza men flooded into the hall, making twenty total. All but the man at the front of this brigade lined into the pews, flooding the now-hostages out and towards the walls. In the chaos punch bowls knocked over, snack trays flipped, and tables crashed onto the floor.

Their movements and actions remained precise and accurate to the extent it appeared to have been rehearsed over and over, to iron out any wrinkles in their plan.

Anshel stared empty at the corpse of his child on stage. A fluttering of his lips, and an unconscious jolting of his legs led him straight to Chaim. Kneeling down he held the boy's head in his lap and balled.

"What a pitiful site. A Yakuza Father on his knees crying over the death of a child? A child, really now? He was a failure and you know it", the man at the front of the brigade shouted.

" Anshel! You know what I want. This all could have been avoided if you had simply agreed to the conditions that were laid out before you. We warned you, and you didn't listen, now you must pay the price", he continued.

"What is he talking about, Anshel, what is the meaning of this?"asked Anshel's wife, standing behind him, holding her two other children with a tight embrace..

"Duvshanit...", Anshel didn't have the power to speak anymore.

"Duvshanit...I just don't know what to say...Jorge Soros, You'll pay for this," he said while shaking his fist, tears streaking down his face

"Jorge...Soros?" Peter thought to himself. To Peter, he had just heard the name for the first time, but in the back of his mind, he knew of this name. He knew deep down in his heart of hearts that this was a man of importance and he felt as if he would need to remember this name for the near future.

During Anshel and Jorge's conversation, the other gunmen were slaughtering countless Cohen members. They were defenseless. Guns were outlawed within the Autonomous Zone with a unanimous vote during the first GYC meeting. No one knew how these men came across the firepower they possessed, the only possible explanation was that they were smuggled across the border.

Anshel was attempting to flee with Batya, Chana, and his wife. His elite guards were protecting them from every angle they could, Batya couldn't bear it anymore. She broke through the guards and began running back to her brother's corpse, the two her best friends from the time they could be. They were as close as siblings could be. One more gunshot reverberated through the synagogue. Batya was shot dead before hit the ground. Her corpse laid on the stage, her arming reaching out, coming just a few feet short from her older brother. The two souls locked forever a distance apart from each other.

The sniper who took out Batya now had his scope aimed upon Anshel's shiny, bald head. He cocked the gun, lined up the shot, and was getting ready to fire, just when a ray of G-d's own light shone off of Anshel's head, reflecting it directly into the sniper's eye. He panicked and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck none other than Chana. The last child of the Cohen lineage, dead. Anshel stared in blank reflection, his only goal was escape, nothing else occupied his mind any further. How could it, if he escapes, the Cohen Family can live on. Escape. He must escape, too much is riding on his survival, he must escape. He headed for the exit hidden behind the stage, a bloody trail pooled towards the door, stuck halfway between freedom and death laid the Rabbi. Rav Weisenbockfeld, dead.

"Where are you bringing me?!" His wife shouted.

Anshel remained silent yet stared his wife down with a grimace of emptiness and hollow bravery. "please...", was all he managed. "They'll find us."

As the couple approached the door, they heard a deep voice resonate, "You really thought you had something here, didn't you?"

"Biteh," Anshel fell to his knees begging the man, "I don't know what it is you want...you're surely mistaken."

"Tch tch tch, Anshel, what's the point in lying? Are you trying to protect your wife's sanity here? Whatever it is, it wont work."

The man grabbed Anshel by the neck and effortlessly picked him up. He began to choke the poor man, his grip strength only rivaled by a hydraulic press. Tears and snot ran down Anshel's face, "Please spare me," are what would have been his last words if his windpipe had not already been crushed by this man of unbelievable strength. Anshel's wife was cowering in the corner, slowly crawling her way to safety.

"Oh no you don't missy." Before she could scream she was shot in the back of the head.

The Cohen family, diseased.

The gunshot which finished off Anshel's wife resonated throughout the synagogue, afterwards there was only silence.

The twenty gunmen left without killing a single other person after their boss emerged and rounded them up. They left in a diligent march. As quickly as it started, it was over.

Peter and Daniel stood up from the pew that may have been their very grave. Both of them were crying.

Slowly everyone formed a group prayer for the lost souls' peaceful venture to heaven. No one spoke, no one posed, no one even breathed too heavy for it might disturb the mournful air. The group stayed huddled together in each other's warmth and protection in The Lord's house until nightfall.

As the Synagogue bell signaled midnight, the surviving members of the Khoref street synagogue bar-mitzvah massacre, as it would come to be called, dispersed one by one until the room was empty, and still. Still with death, yet breathed a holy life throughout.. Peter and Daniel returned to the shop, they decided it would be best to stay together. They didnt even change clothes or say words of greeting to Moshe. He just stared at them with longing and a want to help, but he knew now wasn't the time. He shut the doors to Peter's rooms and the guest room, before lighting incense and going to bed himself.

Peter said his nightly prayers, and had a talk with Hashem:

"Dear lord, Hashem, why did you allow such violence to occur today? Are you not supposed to be all loving, what I witnessed today was not love, it was hate and violence. I thought you hated violence towards our brethren? 'love thy neighbor' 'treat thy father and mother with respect', this was not respect. This was a slaughter. And to think you allowed it in the holy land of the people you promised to our fathers. What would Abraham say? How about Noah. Even Jacob and his son Joseph would feel betrayed by this...this was a massacre. Oh G-d, why?"

The lights shut off, and he heard no response as sleep took over.