Weekly Short Story

Miss Zara Goldstein,
By the ghetto,
East Side New York yet.

Zara mein gold;

I having been by college now some weeks yet I thought I would write to find out if you still love me and when is tat loafer brother of yours going to pay me that fifty cents which he owes me yet?

I wouldnt tell you no lie Zara, college is expense something fierce, which all the time its gives donations to ataletics musical entertainments missionaries or vot have you? Ha, a feller come by me which says, “Dough you should give by the missionary fund which is educating the Chinese and the Zulus to wear hose-supporters and play golf and be Rotarians yets.” I says, “How much money would you be satisfied by?” He says, “Anyways a dollar yet.” Oy, Oy, such extravagance, a cheaper missionary they should have. What if the Zulus get educated it goes no money in my pocket yet. Better they could spend some money educating with civilizing these Irish already. You know Zara, it don’t pay none to tell a strange things, so when a big Irishman says to me, “And what moight your name be?” (You know, Zara, these couldnt talk English no more like nothing) I thinks, “None of your business that aint any.” So I says, “I come from the same part of Ireland vot you come from, yet.” And the big loafer pokes me on the nose.

But I am proud of my nationality Zara, I’m American citizen, even if I was born in Czecho-Slavakia, or was it Ukrania or Sweden? I don’t just remember. But confidentially Zara, colletch would be good business if it wasnt so expensive yet. The other day it went by a teacher about the plagues of Egypt yet, which she said, “all of the Egyptian went broke on account of the fles ruining the businesses yet, but there were no fles on the Israelites.” I says, “Nor there aint any now either, yet.”

I am taking Latin Zara so none of them Italians wont cheat me none. You know Zara, they are a lot of grafters yet. One time one of the sold me a gold watch chain for fifty it was all brass yet. The dirty crook. The fellers got right vot says, “Honesty is the stuff, yet.” It was a good thing the fifty cents I gave him was counterfeit yet. And speaking of fifty cents, does your brother think I am a bank yet?

I see my friend Moe Silverstein wrote a play which is appearing on Broadway. That Moe is my best friend. He could have my wife if I had one and I would nearly lend him money⁠—maybe.

I think I will write plays because I am better business man than Moe didnt I always win all his money when we was kids and betting on the ghetto champions? But I had a system Zara. Like when Frankie Fleming and Benny Leonard had their bout, I bet a hundred dollars on each one so I couldnt have lost money yet. I always had good business head Zara if I lost a bet I never would pay it.

But here is a play I wrote.

Of course Zara, our ancestors didnt come over until all the Indian and Englishers and varmints was chased out but that dont matter. This country is as much ours as anybody, I guess, and if these natives don’t like it, we can always go back to Europe.

Now Zara, I vill close, send me your love and lots of kisses and that fifty cents which your loafer of a brother owes me yet.