washed the sin off his hands. He looked out the window, and noticed a dog out there, calmly waiting at the end of the shul driveway.
Heimish.
Over the driveway, through the trees, past the main entrance, through the bathroom window, Heimish looked directly at Shlomo and shook his head in disgust.
That was all Shlomo needed, that damn dog blabbing to everyone.
âGreat,â said Heimish. âYouâve defiled a synagogue. Why donât you stop by the Holocaust Museum on the way home and defile that, too?â
A group of older boys walked over to Heimish and began to pet him.
âHey, Heimish!â one said.
âWhatâs shakinâ, Heimish,â said another.
âMmm,â Heimish whispered to Shlomo. âItâs so nice to be petted by hands unsullied by the sin of emission.â
Shlomo pulled his suit jacket tightly around the dirtiest tit mag in the world and ran outside. He made his way as quickly as he could through the busy lobby, dodging the rabbi and strollers and toys.
âYou know my owner, right?â Heimish was probably saying to the older boys, making the secret jerk-off motion with his paw. âBig time.â
Shlomo ducked three dentists, an obstetrician and a lawyer before running face first into Mrs. Malinowitzâs tremendous bosom. Mrs. Malinowitz was sixty-two years old and grossly overweight, but Shlomo couldnât resist pausing for just one split second to nuzzle gently between her pendulous breasts.
She smelled of gefilte fish and Chanel.
Shlomo knew most of Mrs. Malinowitz was plain old fat, but he didnât really care. Whatever percentage of the tits engulfing his face was fat, some of it was definitely genuine tit.
âHeâs probably jerking off right now,â Heimish would be telling the boys. Theyâd all be laughing and high-fiving each other at Shlomoâs expense.
âTell your mother I said âGood Shabbos,ââ said Mrs. Malinowitz as Shlomo hurried through the heavy front door.
Heimish stood up and started wagging his tail. The older boys had already gone.
âMrs. Malinowitz?â asked Heimish. âYouâve got to be kidding me! Thou shalt not covet thy neighborâs wife!â
Shlomo stomped furiously toward him.
âGet!â he said harshly. âGet! Go on!â Heimish didnât budge. Shlomo reached into his suit jacket, pulled out the magazine and rolled it tightly. He swung it at Heimish with all his might.
âAway!â he said.
Shlomo swung again.
Heimish ducked, his tail between his legs. Heimish wasnât sure whether Shlomo was playing with him or not. Shlomo swung the magazine again, this time hitting Heimish squarely on his left haunch.
âBad dog!â Shlomo shouted. âGo home!â
Heimish knew he wasnât playing now. Shlomo raised the magazine above his head again, and Heimish darted into the busy street.
The driver of the car never saw him. She only stepped on the brakes after feeling a thump coming from under the left rear tire.
âOhmigod!â she cried.
She had been on her way to the movies.
She was blond.
Her T-shirt said P ORN STAR .
That night, Shlomo sat in bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, the Juggs magazine opened on the bed beside him. He missed Heimish, but he was glad to finally be alone with Kimberley Kupps and Wendy Whoppers and Nikki Knockers.
âYou call that a penis?â Nikki said to him.
He felt ashamed.
He worried that God would punish him.
He had been told by his rabbis that if you kill a living being or in any way cause it to die, then when you die and go to hell, your arms and legs are tied to four different horses and a gun is fired into the air and the horses bolt, tearing you to pieces.
He wondered if the rabbis were right.
He wondered if Heimish was watching him from heaven.
âYouâre disgusting,â said Heimish, peering down from the sky. âIf it werenât so sinful,