Fishel and Faivish were trudging home from school, expressions of utmost gloom stamped on their faces.

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of homework I’ve got,” groaned Fishel.

“Oh yeah? You wouldn’t believe the amount of homework I’ve got,” retorted Faivish. “I’ve got enough to last for the next month!”

“I’ve got enough for the next year,”

“I’ve got enough for the next decade.”

“I’ve got enough for an entire lifetime. If I survive, that is.”

Fishel sighed heavily and changed track.

“Look, we’re caught between a rock and hard place. Either we slave away over mountains of homework — or we don’t. And then Daddy’s sure to get a call from the school.”

Faivish grimaced as he recalled some of the telephone calls that had been received in the Friedman household of late. The brothers were still suffering the repercussions of all the allowance money their father had kept back.

“The way I see it, there’s only one way out. We’ll have to run away,” announced Fishel.

Faivish looked intrigued. “Where to?” he asked.

Fishel thought deeply for a moment.

“Do you remember the tent Daddy once bought for vacations? He had some plan of taking us camping, but it didn’t work out. We can find an open space somewhere and set it up. Then we won’t have to worry about trivialities like homework.”

Faivish decided that even though he normally disagreed with his brother on principle, this idea was too good to pass up on.

“Great idea!” he declared. “No tests!”

“No math problems!”

“No long essays.”

The troublesome pair rushed home excitedly. If Mrs. Friedman smelled a rat, she didn’t say a thing, although she did keep an extra eye out for any shenanigans.

Fishel and Faivish dove into a hearty after-school snack and then went up to their room. Mrs. Friedman busied herself cleaning up. A short while later, she heard the brothers creeping down the stairs, lugging a large box that said “Large Camping Tent” on it. Discreetly, she got the phone and punched in Jolly Solly’s number.

“Hmm. Running away, are they?” the clown mused. “They’ll come back soon enough, you know. Thing is, what happens in the meanwhile? Tell you what, I’ll keep an eye on them if you like.”

Muttering something about going out, Fishel and Faivish sneaked out of the house with the tent and made their way up Sunny Lane. At first they felt like intrepid explorers. But as time went on, the tent started feeling heavy.

“Look, there’s a park,” pointed out Fishel. “Why don’t we pitch our tent there?”

“Yeah, great,” concurred Faivish, more because he was fed up of lugging the tent than because he liked the idea.

(Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 746)