Friday, June 10, 2011
A Frank Invterview with Larry
Recently, I had the opportunity to sit down with Larry the Moyle to talk about his craft. For those of you who don’t know, a moyle is a person who performs a bris, or circumcision, common in the Jewish faith.
J: So, Larry, tell me, how did you get into the field of religious circumcisions?
L: You know, I think it really started for me as a kid. We didn’t have much money growing up, so we ate a lot of potatoes. Something about peeling those potatoes came so naturally to me. Before long, I graduated to beets, then zucchini and carrots. My mother always said I could peel the shell off a raw egg without breaking the yolk. (Laughs) But I never dreamed it would turn into a career.
J: Yes, it’s probably not in the top ten answers at Career Day, right? What did you want to be when you were a kid?
L: An astronaut.
J: I can see the similarities. You both carry specialized equipment, have little room for error. Neither one of you can breathe in outer space without one of those masks. Astronauts train in zero gravity, you train in zero foreskin. Speaking of, can I ask what you do with the, um, leftovers?
L: Well of course I offer the option of parental storage. But it’s not very popular.
J: I can’t imagine why. Have you considered some sort PR campaign to rejuvenate interest in foreskin preservation?
L: No, I don’t think that’s a good idea at all. Besides, what would become of my garden?
J: What do you mean?
L: You asked what I did with the discarded foreskins. I plant them in front of my house.
J: A foreskin garden. Very zen. And how many would you say you assembled there?
L: Hundreds. Thousands, probably. I’ve been doing this for 30 years.
J: Interesting. And do you water these foreskins?
L: Ha, yes, I’ve never heard that one before. And the foreskins take root and grow into giant penis flowers, right? And if I didn’t properly trim and weed-whack, my house would be completely overgrown with them, and I’d have to call the National Guard to bring the Jaws of Life to rescue my wife and I from our penis prison! By the way, what is the sound of one hand clapping?
J: I don’t follow.
L: That’s about what I think of your joke.
J: Okay, let’s switch gears a bit. Has anybody ever come to you years later, looking for their foreskin? I mean, like one of those stories on TV where the abandoned kid hunts down her birth mother? And, follow-up question, do you have a standard return policy?
L: No. That’s a ridiculous question.
J: Last question. I think all my readers want to know if you have nightmares, and if so, what are they like? I mean, do you ever dream of all the foreskins you’ve buried over the years one day busting up through the dirt of your garden, assembled into a Superskin, bent on vengeance? Kind of like The Blob meets Night of the Living Dead? I know that would keep me up at night.
L: Okay, I think we’re done here.