Rabbi Barton, walking down the tree-lined path to the yeshiva study hall, inclined his head and analyzed a subtle Talmud passage.
Suddenly, he tripped on a wooden slat jutting up to ankle height. He barely had time to note that it formed part of the rim of a great barrel lying at his feet and sinking beneath the ground. Then he plunged headfirst into the barrel, catching a momentary glimpse of an expanse of whiteness beneath him, and he broke through the surface and dove into a heavy sea of sour cream.... Read the entire story at jewishfiction.net.
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Yaacov David Shulman
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