Goldman's Chanukah
Neil Goldman looked sadly at the X-Wing model his father had bought him for the previous Chanukah. He had had tons of fun pretending he was Wedge Antilles piloting the model, but now his extreme loneliness kept him from even enjoying that. He missed Meg Griffin's kisses, or at least the one kiss they had shared so many years before.
"Enjoying your toys?" asked Mort Goldman, walking into his son's bedroom, not before bumping his face into the mezuzah on his door.
"They're not toys, they're technically accurate models!" snapped Neil.
"Why the long face, Neil? You practically look like your cousin Sarah Jessica Parker," said Mort.
"I'm sad because I'm not with Meg anymore," said Neil.
"Yes, I can understand that feeling," said Mort. "Since Muriel died, the only nookie I've gotten has been her clothes and mine."
"I'm not in the mood for your weird sexual information nobody wants to know," sighed Neil.
"That's odd, usually you are," said Mort. "This is more serious than I thought."
"What do you know about love?" asked Neil.
"Not much, but I was with your mother for almost twenty years," said Mort. "That's longer than you've been alive!"
"I wish I was dead," said Neil.
"Aw, come, Neil, you know suicide is forbidden in Judaism. Or maybe it isn't, since King Saul fell on his sword. But that was an act of dignity as he refused to be killed by the Philistines. But then again, he actually gave the Philistines what they wanted, and made them put less effort into it. But I digress…"
"I don't want to be Jewish anymore!" said Neil. "Chanukah sucks!"
"Well, I do think that on a daily basis as well," said Mort, "but I fight those self-loathing thoughts. We've got Adam Sandler, I mean we've got Jackie Mason, I mean we've got Bob Dylan, used to, I mean…uh…having Steven Spielberg used to be a good thing, right?"
"I'd rather have George Lucas," said Neil.
"Well, starting with this Chanukah, I'm going to make you count your blessings," said Mort. "And it just so happens that the first night of Chanukah is tonight!" Mort brought an unlit menorah onto Neil's desk and started saying a Hebrew blessing.
"Baruch atah Adonai, eloheinu melech ha'olam…Neil, it's useless if you're not going to join in."
"I don't wanna, Dad!" said Neil.
"Oh come on, I can hear Muriel reciting the prayer louder than you, and she's been dead for years!" said Mort.
"Do you have schizophrenia, Dad?" asked Neil.
"I thought I did but it turned out to just be tinnitus," said Mort. "Say the prayer along with me. Baruch…"
"Shut up, Dad. Nobody likes Chanukah anymore, not since Adam Sandler ruined it with Eight Crazy Nights," said Neil.
"That's blasphemy!" yelled Mort. "Wait, do Jews believe in blasphemy? It's like masturbation; nobody seems to know the Jewish view on it."
"It's one of the Ten Commandments," said Neil. "I wish you'd remember that before you bring up masturbation."
"You're a true mensch after all!" said Mort, "bringing up the Ten Commandments and all."
"Christians believe in it too," said Neil.
"That they do," said Mort. "Well, this brings me to drastic measures. You can't see that non-Jewish girl Meg for a week!"
"I haven't seen her in years," cried Neil, and exited his own room to do something Mort had only recently mentioned in the garage.
"Well, that boy's not getting any of my Zayde Shimon's gefilte fish-encrusted latkes," said Mort, and began munching on said latkes.