Meyer, a lonely widower, was walking home along Delaney Street one day, wishing something wonderful would happen to his life, when he passed a Pet Store and heard a squawking voice shouting out in Yiddish: "Quawwwwk. . . vus macht du. . . yeah, you. . . outside, standing like a schmuck. . . eh?”

Meyer rubs his eyes and ears, he couldn’t believe it!  The proprietor sprang out of the door and grabbed Meyer by the sleeve.  “Come in here, fella, and check out this parrot.”  Meyer stood in front of the African Grey, who cocked his little head and said:  “Vus?  Kenst reddin Yiddish?”

Meyer turned excitedly to the store owner.  “He speaks Yiddish?”  The owner answers:  “What did you expect?  Chinese maybe?”  In a matter of moments Meyer had placed five hundred dollars down on the counter and carried the parrot in his cage away with him.

All night long he talked with the parrot in Yiddish.  He told the parrot about his Father’s adventures coming to America, about how beautiful his Mother was when she was a young bride, about his family, about his years working in the garment industry and about sunny Florida.

The parrot listened attentively while sharing some walnuts.  The parrot told him of living in the Pet Store and how he hated the weekends.  They both went to sleep.  Next morning Meyer began saying his prayers.  The parrot demanded to know what he was doing and when Meyer explained, the parrot wanted to pray too.  Meyer hand-made a miniature Yamulke for the parrot.  The parrot wanted to learn to read Hebrew, so Meyer spent months sitting and teaching him Torah.  Before long, Meyer came to love and count on the parrot as a friend and a Jew.  He was lonely no more.

On Rosh Hashanah, Meyer rose, got dressed and was about to leave when the parrot demanded to go with him.  Meyer explained that a synagogue was not a place for a bird, but the parrot pleaded and was carried to the synagogue on Meyer’s shoulder.  Needless to say, they were quite a spectacle.  Everyone, including the Rabbi, questioned Meyer.  At first the Rabbi refused to allow a bird into the building on the High Holy Days, but Meyer convinced him to let him in this one time, swearing that the parrot could pray.  Wagers were made with Meyer.  Thousands of dollars were bet. . . even odds. . . that the parrot could not pray, could not speak Yiddish or Hebrew, etc.

All eyes were on the two of them during the services.  The parrot was still perched on Meyer’s shoulder as one prayer and song passed. . . but not a peep from the bird.  Meyer became annoyed, slapping at his shoulder and mumbling under his breath, “Pray.”  The parrot said nothing.

After the services were over, Meyer realized he owed his synagogue buddies and the Rabbi over four thousand dollars.  He marched home. . . very disgusted, saying nothing.  Finally, several blocks from the synagogue the parrot began to sing an old Yiddish song and was happy as a lark.

Meyer stopped and looked at him.  “You miserable bird. . . you cost me over four thousand dollars.  Why?  After I taught you the morning prayers, taught you to read Hebrew and the Torah.  And after you begged me to bring you to the synagogue on Rosh Hashanah. . . why?  Why did you do this to me?”

“Don’t be a schmuck,” the parrot replied.  “Think of the odds we’ll get on Yom Kippur! ”