system back to normal. Medical care was free on the kibbutz, and this
was his medicine. That was about the time we had walked in.
I wondered aloud how much longer we would have the luxury of
having Yippee around. I felt sad because somehow I was certain that
he would not be able to talk his way out of this one, and almost surely
would be thrown off the kibbutz. After all, he had been reprimanded
twice already. The first time was for throwing what was advertised as
a “Lets get bombed” party in one of the kibbutz bomb shelters. The
Israelis found this offensive and soon Yippee was working in the cow
fields. The following week was worse. We had a costume party for the
volunteers and Yippee decided to come as Anat. He looked awful,
with pillows stuffed up under his shirt, hair slicked back and sprayed
orange, and tampons hanging from his ears and around his neck.
When asked what the tampons were supposed to signify, Yippee
answered cheekily, “Because she’s always on the rag.”
To everyone’s horror, Anat showed up to the party. She was
curious to see what kind of costumes we could all create on our
limited kibbutz budget. She quickly made a round of the room, and
before Yippee could escape, she was upon him. The room fell silent.
“Who are you supposed to be?” Anat asked suspiciously. Yippee
stood straight-faced with a drink in his hand and answered solemnly:
“I am the woman in the tampon commercials.”
“What tampon commercials?”
“You know, String-o’-Pearls Tampons. ‘Our tampons are so
elegant, you’ll feel like you’re wearing jewelry?’ Haven’t heard of
them? They’re really big in Australia.”
“I’ll bet.” Anat said, studying him intently. “You kind of look like
you’re trying to be me.”
“No,” Yippee seemed calm, but if you looked closely you could
see the vodka in his glass quivering, “I would never do such an awful
thing as that.”
The ambiguity was only caught by a few of us. Anat looked at
him for a moment too long for comfort, then shrugged and moved
along. I caught Yippee’s eyes just before they rolled into his head. He
let out a heavy breath and drank his vodka in one gulp.
That Monday he was switched to night shift in the sewage
dump. Anat told him in no uncertain terms that she thought he was
a troublemaker and that if he got into any more trouble he would get
the infamous “footprint on the tuchus” and be banished from the
kibbutz. Since he was broke and was relying on the monthly stipend
BIG AMERICAN BREAKFAST
46
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