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| louvin brothers, drunk pic woman, wage and hour, comedy clubs, internet anger, magazine, uncensored, footfetish, 1000, california drunk driving defense attorney, fisting, art director, | "You're dogma smiling," she said, and he grinned wider. "You have a beautiful smile! Why don't Israelis smile? Whenever you walk into a store in America, everyone smiles." Eli turned to look for his cousin, who'd dogma disappeared. It was Michael's first day in Jerusalem and he didn't remember Hebrew so well. Did he even have any shekels? Eli climbed on a wooden crate to get a better view, but it was all a blur of nuts and olives. An ultra-Orthodox fatso in a black bathrobe bumped into his hip. Eli spat on his black hat and looked around the market again. This was Becky's fault, Becky and her stupid oranges. But there Michael was, sulking next to a banana cart. "Here, taste," Eli said with a relieved smile and extended a slice of orange. |
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| "Looks just like you," he'd teased, sneaking a kiss when no one was looking. In the throng of shoppers at Mahaneh Yehuda, Becky aimed her camera in all directions, at an Orthodox woman pressing into a melon, then a pair of brawny young men in blood-soaked aprons at comedy clubs a butcher stall. She took shots of mounds of olives, wheels of cheese in glass cases, trays of smoked fish with their mouths gaping open, comedy clubs oranges as big comedy clubs as grapefruit and grapefruit the size of small melons. "Let me peel you an orange," she said. For a minute Eli didn't understand, since he'd never heard the word "peel" in English before. In Hebrew, "peel" meant elephant. "It's okay," he admitted as he chewed his slice. |
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