Old Tom Pain is one big Texan and he knows it.  Once I heard him declaiming, “I figger I’m the toughest dude goin’.  Ain’t nobody in these parts leastwise that can mess with me.  If they come up to me, they’d best wipe that grin off their face.  Otherwise they’re lookin’ to get their ass kicked right quick, ‘cause I’m one no-playin’ ’ombre.  If I could line up all the dudes I whaled on in my life, they’d stretch plumb from Dallas to Abilene.  Anybody out there thinks he can challenge me here and now, come steppin’ right on up to get your knuckle samwich.”

He had his two red-brick fists around the microphone as if he were throttling it, rocking it around and swivelling it back and forth.  The occasion was a country music hootenanny jamboree that he was emceeing.  Sure enough, he had on his striped cowboy shirt, a pair of genuine Levi Strausses, his ten-gallon Tom Mix Stetson cowboy hat and a pair of Durango cowboy boots complete with spurs.  And he was as big as a house. 

The big bar and music hall was filled with men who looked quite a bit like Tom Pain, maybe not quite as big, bad and ugly, but definitely getting there.  They generally loved the way Tom was talking.  He was telling the truth, but in a sort of jocular way, and everybody was cheering and clapping.  There were a lot of girls in the room too, sweethearts, wives and girlfriends.  They loved it too.

Then Pain started talking about the songs that were going to be sung live.  He mentioned Your Cheatin’ Heart, These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You, El Paso, Sixteen Tons, All My Ex’s Come From Texas and a few others.  He said they’d also have some Bible.  Tom took requests too.  I hate to think of what would have happened to anyone who asked for a Mozart string quartet.

Just at that moment Rabbi Weinberger from Congregation Anshe Zedek stepped into the bar.  An outcry went up immediately, with menacing cries of derision and mockery.  You’d have thought all those roughnecks would have torn the rabbi limb from limb, but with absolute equanimity and poise he walked straight over to Tom Pain,

“Tom, I need to have you and about ten of your boys give me a hand at the temple.  We’ve got some painting and furniture-moving that has to be done tonight.  You know, tomorrow’s Purim, and that’s an important day in our calendar.”

“But we’ve got a hootenanny goin’.  We can’t make it tonight.  What about tomorrow night?”

“Oy gevalt.  Didn’t I just explain that tomorrow is Purim?  So how could tomorrow night be okay already?  Are you nuts, or something?”

“I can’t break up this here jamboree.  These folks would kill me.”

“Yeah, I appreciate that you and your friends are having a good time, but this is something that’s gotta happen.  So tell your pals that the hoochenammy…”

“…hootenanny…”

“…hootenanny is over.”

Since they were near the microphone, the little discussion was broadcast all over the hall.  Everyone was shouting, “Kill him, Tom.”  “Floor his ass.”  “Hey, dude, you better get your ass back to Brooklyn.  Come around here, you might get strung up.” “This guy killed Jesus Christ.”  “Kick him right on out of here, Tom.”  “Boot his butt.”

“Sorry, rabbi, I can’t do.”

The rabbi was furious.  He started jumping up and down frantically, stammering and spluttering as he shouted, “Whatta ya mean, you can’t do it, you stupid shnorrer?  Of course you can do it, shmuck.  Don’t forget that $50,000 IOU that you made out to me.  I’ve been letting you get away with arrears and defaults like murder.  How’d you like me to come after you for the dough?  Y’know, my brother’s a top lawyer around here.  You could just say good-bye to your house, nudnik.”

“Well, wait a minute, rabbi.  Don’t get excited.  I was jus’ joshin’ ya.  Course I can come to the synagogue tonight.”

Tom turned around to the crowd and said, “If y’all folks will jus’ ’scuse me, I got other business to tend to.” 

There was a chorus of boo’s, but Tom went slinking out the side door, with Rabbi Weinberger walking behind him, still railing and spluttering.  Tom and Rabbi Weinberger drove to Tom’s spread.  Tom rounded up about ten of his men.  They piled into a van and followed Tom and the Rabbi to Congregation Anshe Zedek. 

The hootenanny was postponed and everyone went home disappointed, but the synagogue looked great for Purim.

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