By Stephanie Lynne, ’23
Rebecca Rubenstein only loved three things in her life; coffee, her boyfriend and her job. She
didn’t have time for anything else. One morning she was walking through the streets on her way to the top fashion magazine in the city. It’s where she worked. It’s the only thing she cared about except for coffee and her boyfriend. While she walked, a fake Santa rang a bell practically in her face and she flinched.
“Give to the homeless?” the Santa asked, his voice horace and shivering.
“Ugh, no I don’t give money to big corporations.” she said, clutching her Starbucks coffee.
At work she’s overwhelmed with the information that Dixie Kardishian wore socks with crocs at
Kim D’millios’s wedding to Kanye East. It was a travesty and she typed furiously when her boss, Mr.
Boss, came in.
“Rebecca, if you don’t get this in by ten minutes, you’ll lose that promotion.”
He left after that.
Rebecca had it in by five minutes. She got the promotion.
After work, she sat watching Ru Paul’s Drag race, taking notes. She’d have to write an editorial
by midnight. The phone rang.
“Honey, it’s mom.”
“Not now mom, I have to write Ru Paul.”
“You mean write a piece about Ru Paul?”
“No.”
“Oh, well you have to come back home, nobody’s buying Hannukah and it’s killing your Papa.”
Rebecca gasped because Papa was old and the only thing she ACTUALLY loved. She couldn’t go
home, sure Hanukkah was only 45 seconds away but if she didn’t write Ru Paul she’d lose her promotion. She called her boyfriend, John Johnstone. The biggest Wall Street banker IN THE WORLD.
“Babe, not now, banks are banking.”
“Babe, I have to go home.”
“Babe, we have dinner with my parents at church.”
“Babe, I don’t church, I temple.”
“Babe, you’re so Jewish.”
“Babe, you sound like Kanye East. We’re over.”
Rebecca hung up with a huff and in a feministic rage she bought plane tickets to her boring small
town in the middle of nowhere. She was there by Hanukkah and met her mom in the airport.
“How was your flight?”
“Awful, I was in coach.”
“Well Papa is dying.”
Rebecca swallowed hard and went to go see Papa.
“Hi Papa!” she said, suddenly but genuinely cheerful.
“Rebeccala, I love you!”
“I love you too Papa.”
“Rebeccala, you must save Hanukkah, eat the lakas, spin the dreidel, light…the…menorah.”
Papa died.