A Jewish man decides to have his bar mitzvah again at age 26.
No, no. I’m not here to propose marriage to you again. You said no and I can respect that decision. And I’m still fine with us seeing other people like you suggested. Not here to like, win you back. It’s totally cool.
But I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said that night. That I’m not ready, that I need to grow up, that I’m not a man, and you want a man. I’ve been thinking about it and I wanted you to know, I think I figured out how to fix that, uh, issue.
My bar-mitzvah – my transformation from boy to man at the age of 13. I don’t think I got it right. I remember stuttering when I read the Shama. And my chanting, especially during the Haftorah, as I recall my bubbie telling me, it was a little off-key. So I’m thinking, maybe, due to that, I didn’t enter manhood properly. Or perhaps I missed the entrance altogether. Or perhaps God locked the entrance, because he couldn’t understand the torah portion through my heavy lisp.
Anyway, since then I’ve really grown up a lot. I mean, according to you, not into a real man, but… I mean, I don’t stutter, I don’t lisp, granted I still sing off-key, but…and then it hit me. This is genius. Brace yourself. Seriously, hold onto the door frame or something: What if I got bar mitzvahed again? What if I got re-bar mitzvahed? I could nail it this time. Just knock that bar-mitzvah out of the synagogue.
So I’ve been studying Hebrew. Went to a Rabbi these last six weeks. Been training intensely. I mean, Karate Kid training. Not just reading the Torah, but wax-on wax-off stuff like going to Saturday services, making Gefilte fish from scratch, learning to drive a hard bargain at the grocery. I even went back to Hebrew school and stood up to the current bully there. Granted the kid was like 4’11”, but my heart was still pounding like crazy.
And after all that, I can feel it, I’m ready. Ready for man-land. Ready to pay a mortgage and take out a 401k and sell insurance or cars or be a banker or something. And like, father some kids. I am charged. I am pumped. And tomorrow is my big day. Tomorrow, thirteen years after my first bar-mitzvah I am going to do it again – and it is going to rock!
Tomorrow before your eyes and my families’ – may Bubbie rest in piece – I will become a man. I will step up on that bema and you will WITNESS my TRANSFORMATION!
So, uh, anyhoo…that’s why I’m here. Just wanted to, uh, hand deliver this invitation to my bar-mitzvah. We’re going to do a nice little reception after, we’ll have a DJ, should be dancing part, maybe they’ll play our song, or not, and uh no need to bring a gift, I know its on short notice. And, um…if you could just fill out this little card – chicken or fish. Thanks for not slamming the door like last time.
Oh. Okay. So I’ll see you tomorrow?
LOCKING THE STORE – 14-25 age range
Clark (who works at a local gift shop) has become smitten with Grace, his newest customer.
Clark: Grace, you’re so beautiful. Maybe I should…look, it’s almost five. I think maybe I’ll just turn that sign over. Turn it over to say we’re closed. Lock the door, maybe? Would that be alright with you? If I did that? I mean, just so we could make sure our time wasn’t interrupted. You’re so beautiful that I just couldn’t, I just really wouldn’t want it to be interrupted. You know? I mean, if someone walked through that door right now, I just, I just don’t know what I’d do. What I’d be able to do. I just…
(moves to door)
I’m going to lock it. To say we’re closed. No one will come here anyway. No one should. No one on this island stays out past 4:00. I’m mean, we’re out. But that’s us. We’re different than all of them, aren’t we? We’re the two people who are different, and I’m going to keep the rest of them out.
(switches sign to say it’s closed and locks door)
There. Locked. That feels good. I feel really good now that they’re all closed out, and it’s just me and you, and our time together, and my gift for you. And I’m just so glad —but you’re so beautiful!—I’m so glad that you’re not just my customer anymore. I know you want me to just keep wrapping this gift for you, but I think maybe I should
take a break from the wrapping. Just for a little bit, okay? Because you’re so…you’re so beautiful that it’s starting to really hurt me.
KILLING CHUCK – 20+ age range
A scene of love turns into a scene of crime on the roof of a house party.
I just fuckin’ killed Chuck. I think. I mean, he’s just laying out there. He’s not moving. I don’t think he’s breathing.
I mean, there I was just up on the roof with Marissa – talking, laughing, having a great time. I tell her she reminds me of Sandra Bullock. I tell her I loved “Hope Floats.” Who knew those would be the magic words? Next thing I know her clothes are off and we’re loosening roof shingles like there’s no tomorrow. And then there’s biting and kissing and touching and suddenly someone starts beating on me, I mean, just pounding on me and growling. Yeah, growling. And I look up and there’s Chuck. And I’m like, “What’s the problem?” and he says “The problem is, dude, you’re fucking my girlfriend.”
So I look at Marissa and I’m like “You’re someone’s girlfriend?” And she says “No.” Then it comes out Chuck just wishes she’s his girlfriend but actually she’s his cousin or something, so he’s got these feelings of guilt about wanting her…and then he starts crying.
So that ruined the mood. Marissa puts her clothes on, and she goes back down through the window, back into the party. And I’m left with Chuck. Blubbering, whining, crying Chuck.
And he starts in on how he’s just this total fuck up and maybe he should just throw himself off the roof. And for a split second I’m thinking “YES! Throw yourself off the roof! Do it!” But I don’t say that. I say I “You’re gonna get a girl, buddy, just maybe not your cousin, huh?” And then I give him a friendly pat on the back. A nice manly slap on the back. And he looked heavy, I mean, who knew he’d go flying.