Pith and
Vinegar Presents:
Favorite Fractured Folk Tales
"Muttel the Curd Vendor and The Boy Who Ate Sand"
Many years ago there lived in Minske Pinsk a man named Muttel, whose curd making technique
was without equal, and his prowess and reputation was known all over the land. Nobody
could make a curd like Muttel. So fine, so smooth, like little sour milk diamonds they
were. He took a respectable trade, one that made him a beautiful dollar, and turned it
into an art form.
Naturally, he was a very popular man. Everyone would call upon him to
provide curds for their affairs, Bar Mitzvah’s, Weddings, even the odd Bris or two
during the great Sponge Cake Famine. But that’s another story.
Anyway, one day, Muttel received an invitation to provide the curds for
a very fine affair, a society wedding that was to take place many miles away, just outside
of Broschtlatvic. Normally, he would have one of his apprentices take the curds over to
the affair, but this particular day, they were all sick with ringworm, and Muttel, who was
so proud of his reputation, would not disappoint the young bride and groom and so he got
an ox and cart and put the large barrels on them, and set off to Broschlatvic to bring to
them the fruit of his curdle.
It was a difficult journey. There was only a narrow dirt road, beset
with many rocks and gullies, and the rains had left many patches of mud. The Ox had a
planter’s wart, and could only put its weight on three of it’s hoofs, but Muttel
was determined to get his wares to the wedding. He pushed the cart, and pulled the Ox, and
slowly but surely made his way to Broschlatvic. About half way there, he decided to rest,
as he was tired, and wringing with sweat. He took a long drink from the water he’d
brought with him. And then, looking to the other side of the road, he saw a little boy.
Eating sand.
"Young boy! What are you doing there?" Muttel said to the boy
eating sand.
"Eating sand." came the reply.
"What, such foolishness! Sand is not for consumption!"
"I am poor" said the boy, "and sand is all I have to
eat."
Muttel thought about that for awhile. Finally, he got an idea.
"I am on my way to a most prestigious wedding, where I am to
provide the curds. There will be many banquet tables set with a beautiful feast. Huge
cauldrons of hot steaming Chuch and Milochha, and Hahmilchaas with fried Kripnis on top,
glistening with beads of fat. I am sure that if you join me, you will be invited to stay
and fill your little downtrodden belly with the delights.
"Chuch? Milocha?" The boy asked.
"And Hahmichaas with fried Kripnis" replied Muttel.
The boy thought about it for a second. And then spoke.
"No thanks." He said. "I’d rather stay here and eat
sand."
And the moral of this story is...
"Never forget when you’re looking at the teeth of a gift
horse, that you get more soup out of two cans than you do from one."
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