What a disaster! They’d have to go all the way back to Main Street, where people chased you for no reason
“Fishel and Faivish, dears.” Mrs. Friedman addressed her sons. “I’m afraid the meat delivery hasn’t arrived. There was some mix-up with the order.”
“Um,” said Fishel. He wasn’t that interested.
“Hmm,” said Faivish.
“I need you to go pick it up from the butcher’s,” she said.
“I’m busy,” protested Fishel, as he was busy making faces at his brother.
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