Vashti and the Leprechaun
Vashti Deposed by Ernest Normand
Written by Oxartes. Oxartes, a first time Jewrotica writer, is a 50 year-old modern-orthodox Israeli who writes erotica as a hobby. ‘Writing is my escape, my therapy,’ he says. For more Jewrotica writing by Oxartes, check out Babylon Nights
Bridget adjusted her crown, finished her drink and gazed idly out the window of the top-story restaurant where management had decided to hold the annual party. She didn’t notice that someone had sat down beside her.
“Might a leprechaun order me bonnie queen a drink?”
“That’s original, sure, why not?”
“Bartender! Another…”
“Slivovitz, on the rocks.”
“And an Old Bushmills Single Malt, neat.”
The bartender nodded. “Coming right up.”
“Bridget O’Shea, Personnel.”
“Michael Goldstein…”
“Legal; you just transferred in from the Boston office. See? One of the benefits of working in Personnel.”
“You know everybody?”
“And nobody; lucky me. I hate these fucking parties. Let me go back to my computer.”
“But it is kinda clever though.”
“What?”
“A joint Purim and St. Patrick’s Day party, kill two birds with one stone.”
“Ehh. Costumes are a waste.”
“Some people say that we hide in costumes but I think the opposite is true.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that it’s who we go around as every day, that’s the costume, as we try and mold ourselves in society’s image and be who we think we should be.”
“So, when we put on a costume, we’re actually showing our true selves, who we really are deep down?”
“Right. For a few brief moments, we take off the mental and emotional corsets we spend most our lives stuffing ourselves into and become…”
“A leprechaun and a queen?” Bridget laughed. “What’s a nice Jewish guy like you doing in that get-up?”
“Beats me. I saw it in some shop window.”
“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy. Let’s see, a leprechaun, eh? That means that deep down, you’re solitary, mischievous and a bit of a letch,” Bridget said, leaning forward to offer Michael a fuller view of her cleavage.
Michael tipped his glass. “My turn?”
“Fire away.”
“Why a queen?”
“Cathy in Accounting suggested it and lent me the get-up. I’m gonna kill her.”
“Well, if you’re Queen Esther, deep-down, you’re demure, passive and manipulative.”
“Ha! There’s where your theory fails, my Jewish leprechaun friend! I’m nothing like that!”
“Ah, but there’s another queen heroine in Purim.”
“There is?”
“In the Book of Esther, before he took up with Esther, the King had another queen, named Vashti.”
“Yeah?”
“King Ahasuerus made this huge party for all the nobles of the land. The wine flowed. When the king was drunk, he commanded that Vashti be brought before him, quote ‘with the crown royal, to show the peoples and the princes her beauty; for she was fair to look on. But Queen Vashti refused to come at the king’s command. The king was furious. In a rage, he dumped her and threw her out.”
“What was the big deal? Why didn’t she come out?”
“When the king ordered her to come before the nobles ‘with the crown royal’, he meant with *only* the crown royal.”
“The drunk bastard!”
“See, if you’re Vashti, deep down you’re passionate, a live-wire and from the hip. Vashti didn’t want to be on display; she wanted someone who could cherish her for who she was.”
“A leprechaun, maybe?”
Michael and Bridget looked out the window and eyed the motel down the block.
Michael lay back on the bed as Bridget stepped out of the bathroom wearing only her crown.
Michael woke the next morning to find Bridget reading the Gideon’s Bible.
“Hey!” she bonked him lightly on the head with her scepter. “I’ve just read the Book of Esther twice and it doesn’t say anything about Vashti wanting someone who would cherish her! Do you have anything to say me boyo before Queen Vashti passes sentence on you?”
“Um, I’m a mischievous letch, you know, a leprechaun?”
“Feel free to throw yourself on the mercy of the court!”
Michael laughed and pulled the covers over them.
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