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EXHIBITIONIST VOYEUR

Diddler On The Roof

Diddler On The Roof

by yowser
4 min read
3.64 (3500 views)
adultfiction

750 Words

that's all...

****

The wheat fields had grown quiet in the summer evening air, save for the comforting thrum of the ever-present crickets. The barest crescent of a moon hung low in the eastern sky. I was pleased that sundown had lessened the daytime heat.

None of this helped my nerves however, as I made my way along the rutted road to Tveye's home, to ask the most momentous favor of my life. I wore my best coat and cap.

My thoughts rested on Shprintze, Tevye's third daughter, and whether the village elder, her father, a venerable

mensch,

would grant my ardent request.

Shprintze's limbs were so slender, gentle and graceful in the pale blue linen dresses she wore. Sweet was her voice! And I, a meager musician with scarcely a kopek to my name, what chance would I have?

Tevye greeted me at his threshold, his strong body filling the door-frame, a broad smile on his weather-beaten face.

"Chayim! What brings you to my humble home? Will you be playing?" But he saw there was no fiddle by my side.

"No good Tevye, I come on more important business!"

"What could be of greater worth than music from on high? Sounds to soothe the soul in these troubled times? Come in."

The main room of the cottage was sparse but clean. We talked. His face grew grave.

"You seek my daughter's hand in marriage? And how will a poor man of music, talented as you are, support her and a family? I have my doubts, Chayim."

I mentioned the great city nearby, my friend Schlomo who lived there, who knew of the music needs of grand families and their extravagant weddings, the

bar mitzvah

now and then, a

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bris

, all requiring musical sustenance. I would make a living off those with

gelt

to spare and yet still reside in town.

Tevye stroked his beard. His brown eyes grew thoughtful.

"Very well. Does my daughter return your interest? Does she hold you an honorable man? Be honest."

I explained my hopes and spoke of Shprintze's charm and honest character in a way that I knew would please.

"Ah! Let me fetch her then and we can talk."

Tevye came back with his whole family, his wife with apron and head-covering, Shprintze and her sisters, lined up in their simple dresses. A man of the soil surrounded by his women.

All eyes were upon me, curious and questioning. They'd heard me play, but eldest sister Tzeitel shot me such a wary look that I flinched. She knew!

Tevye outlined the proposal and glanced around the room.

Tzeitel's eyes grew wide and my fear grew thick as the snowfall in midwinter. She tugged on Shprintze's arm.

"No, no, good Papa! And dearest Shprintze! You must know something of this fiddler!"

I wanted at that moment to disappear.

"He is not what he appears!" Her eyes avoided mine but ranged across the faces of the others.

"Know you of his real actions on the roof?"

Tevye spoke. "He plays the fiddle. Atop his uncle's house. His bow is quick, his fingers sure, and his playing brings tears to the eyes. From that fiddle he coaxes out music that fills the air and enchants the whole village!"

"But after that?"

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The room grew silent.

"I have seen him. After he finishes playing, do you know happens?" Her dark eyes flashed.

Tevya spread his hands. "What does it matter? Notes disappear into the sky like nightingales in the evening air. The whole

shtetl

is soothed by his virtuous efforts."

"Papa! Shprintze! I have seen him. He stands there on the roof, feet apart, like this." She assumed a defiant stance with a wild and reckless look on her face.

"It is dark and he thinks no one is watching. But I have seen him."

My body trembled.

"He pulls out hisβ€”his

putz!

" Her words grew frantic.

"Lies, all lies!" I stammered.

"His name should be Onan! He drops his breeches, Papa! Yanks out his member, stiff and quivering in the darkness, and proceeds to attend to it as mother does the morning laundry! With both hands! Fearful wringings and thrashings that would throttle a snake!"

"No!"

"He makes froth! Slime flies from the tip of his spritzing

putz

and coats the roof beneath his feet! I can show you where, the trail tells all."

It was then that I made a dash for the door. To the horizon, the big city, where no one would guess my story.

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