"When’s your next appointment?" she asked.<\/p>\n
"Tomorrow afternoon," I said.<\/p>\n
"Do you want to bring him something?"<\/p>\n
"No."<\/p>\n
"I want to bake him a kosher bunt cake."<\/p>\n
"No. Nothing you can make is kosher."<\/p>\n
"You could oversee it."<\/p>\n
"No."<\/p>\n
"You could mix the egg with the oil and put it in the oven."<\/p>\n
"No."<\/p>\n
"You could bake the cake in my kitchen. I’d show you."<\/p>\n
"Forget it. He doesn’t trust my kashrut anyway."<\/p>\n
"Smart man."<\/p>\n
"What’s with all this cake talk, woman?"<\/p>\n
"That’s what polite society does."<\/p>\n
"Don’t bother me, woman."<\/p>\n
"You owe him for all the torture you’ve put him through.<\/p>\n
"Well, if you get kicked out again, you should become a Modern Orthodox Muslim. You could write about imam predators. Your book would be called, ‘The Molesting Mullah.’"<\/p>\n
"It’s time for you to leave."<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
"When’s your next appointment?" she asked. "Tomorrow afternoon," I said. "Do you want to bring him something?" "No." "I want to bake him a kosher bunt cake." "No. Nothing you can make is kosher." "You could oversee it." "No." "You … Continue reading