NOSSON: You heard what Mr. Marks said. Galleries pay fortunes for this type of thing, on behalf of their rich clients. Remember he read out that article about a desiccated shark “installation” by some artist that went for nearly $7 million? Dobra Baila’s artwork’s gotta be worth more than a pickled shark.

[The GANG nod their assent. They arrange to teleconference that evening, to support Gershon and Dobra Baila remotely, due to tightening lockdown restrictions.]

[At the appointed time, all the boys are on — except, surprisingly, for Gershon.]

BORUCH: Do you think he’s forgotten?

NOSSON: Nah, not Gershon. I mean, you know him — he’s Mr. Organized. Has anyone tried calling him on another phone?

ARON: [yawning] Not me. I was just having a quick taste of my mother’s chocolate chip cookies — really good, too.

[beep] Hello? Hello?

NOSSON: Gershon! At last. We were wondering what happened to you.

GERSHON: Don’t ask. I had to offer Dobra Baila a whole stash of candy just to get her to come downstairs. And she made me agree to read her six favorite storybooks when she’s done.

DOBRA BAILA: An’ also play wiv my teddies. An also wiv my dollies. An—

GERSHON: Okay, okay, OKAY!

DOBRA BAILA: [indignantly] ’Scuse me, you’re shoutin’. Morah always says shoutin’ isn’t p’lite.

GERSHON: [through gritted teeth] Sorreeee. Can we get started on the painting already?

NOSSON: [muttering] Yeah, we haven’t got all night.

BORUCH: Go for it!

ARON: Zzzzzzzzzzzzz

GERSHON: Right, Dobra Baila, here’s a bottle of green paint to start off with. Just pour it on the paper, and then sort of slosh it around with this paintbrush.

DOBRA BAILA: Morah always shakes da bottle first. Like this.

GERSHON: Stop!! Help!! It’s going all over the place!! The walls! The carpet! Yiiiikes!!

DOBRA BAILA: It’s a shmatteh bottle.

GERSHON: It’s not that. I opened it before — I didn’t know you’re gonna start shaking it!

DOBRA BAILA: So how should I know? Waaaaaaaah! Look! Dere’s green paint on my dress and my shoes and my hands…. I’m gonna tell Mommy….

[She scurries off.]

BORUCH: Quick, Gershon, start cleaning up.

NOSSON: Yeah. Hey, if it’s washable, you might be able to just sponge it off.

ARON: [having woken up from the commotion] What’s doing, guys? Did the artwork turn out okay?

[Dobra Baila’s high-pitched voice returns, with Gershon’s mother’s voice in the background, sounding angry. A furious banging of buckets and angry Polish muttering signal the entrance of Gershon’s cleaner Zofia.]

GERSHON: Er… sorry, guys, gotta go. Things are a little colorful right now….

To be continued…ARON, a slow-moving fellow who likes to take life easy

BORUCH, trying to cope with a big sister who always knows better

NOSSON, clever and articulate, often talks in italics to make a point

GERSHON, creative and quick to think of new ideas

The B.A.N.G GANG have abandoned their dreams of writing a best seller to raise funds for the school’s new heating system, after their budding masterpiece is mistakenly deleted. They walk home from school, trying to think of another idea.

NOSSON: [shivering] Oh my, it’s cold!

ARON: [pointing to his bulging outerwear] I know. I’ve got three extra sweaters on today.

GERSHON: Do you guys realize we’re gonna get even colder if we don’t come up with some money for the school’s new heating system?

BORUCH: Yeah, but what can we do? Our writing project flopped.

ARON: Hey, I’ve got a great idea!

BORUCH: Yeah, yeah. Everybody should sit on the couch eating potato chips.

ARON: No, listen, you’re gonna love this. You know that weird modern-art picture we studied in art class? The teacher said it sold for millions. Let’s create some modern art!

GERSHON: But aren’t you’re always saying you wanna relax after school, and not do extra projects?

ARON: Yeah, but this one’s a cinch. You saw the picture Mr. Marks showed us — it looked like a bunch of random splotches. Any kid could do it. Gershon, how about getting that little sister of yours to step in? We could just sit pretty and rake it in — for the school’s fund, of course. Plenty of time for relaxing on the couch afterward, ha ha.

GERSHON: Hmm. You might be onto something. Dobra Baila could definitely splash paint around on a bit of paper. But do you really think anyone’s gonna pay money for the daubings of a kid?

NOSSON: You heard what Mr. Marks said. Galleries pay fortunes for this type of thing, on behalf of their rich clients. Remember he read out that article about a desiccated shark “installation” by some artist that went for nearly $7 million? Dobra Baila’s artwork’s gotta be worth more than a pickled shark.

[The GANG nod their assent. They arrange to teleconference that evening, to support Gershon and Dobra Baila remotely, due to tightening lockdown restrictions.]

[At the appointed time, all the boys are on — except, surprisingly, for Gershon.]

BORUCH: Do you think he’s forgotten?

NOSSON: Nah, not Gershon. I mean, you know him — he’s Mr. Organized. Has anyone tried calling him on another phone?

ARON: [yawning] Not me. I was just having a quick taste of my mother’s chocolate chip cookies — really good, too.

[beep] Hello? Hello?

NOSSON: Gershon! At last. We were wondering what happened to you.

GERSHON: Don’t ask. I had to offer Dobra Baila a whole stash of candy just to get her to come downstairs. And she made me agree to read her six favorite storybooks when she’s done.

DOBRA BAILA: An’ also play wiv my teddies. An also wiv my dollies. An—

GERSHON: Okay, okay, OKAY!

DOBRA BAILA: [indignantly] ’Scuse me, you’re shoutin’. Morah always says shoutin’ isn’t p’lite.

GERSHON: [through gritted teeth] Sorreeee. Can we get started on the painting already?

NOSSON: [muttering] Yeah, we haven’t got all night.

BORUCH: Go for it!

ARON: Zzzzzzzzzzzzz

GERSHON: Right, Dobra Baila, here’s a bottle of green paint to start off with. Just pour it on the paper, and then sort of slosh it around with this paintbrush.

DOBRA BAILA: Morah always shakes da bottle first. Like this.

GERSHON: Stop!! Help!! It’s going all over the place!! The walls! The carpet! Yiiiikes!!

DOBRA BAILA: It’s a shmatteh bottle.

GERSHON: It’s not that. I opened it before — I didn’t know you’re gonna start shaking it!

DOBRA BAILA: So how should I know? Waaaaaaaah! Look! Dere’s green paint on my dress and my shoes and my hands…. I’m gonna tell Mommy….

[She scurries off.]

BORUCH: Quick, Gershon, start cleaning up.

NOSSON: Yeah. Hey, if it’s washable, you might be able to just sponge it off.

ARON: [having woken up from the commotion] What’s doing, guys? Did the artwork turn out okay?

[Dobra Baila’s high-pitched voice returns, with Gershon’s mother’s voice in the background, sounding angry. A furious banging of buckets and angry Polish muttering signal the entrance of Gershon’s cleaner Zofia.]

GERSHON: Er… sorry, guys, gotta go. Things are a little colorful right now….

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 832)