“N
ot like that! If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you 20 times! You’re ruining the carpet!”

Mrs. Friedman from next door sighed to herself. It seemed Mr. Krankowitz’s latest cleaner wasn’t working out any better than any of the others before her. Mrs. Friedman reckoned it was only a matter of time before Mr. Krankowitz sent this one packing as well. Usually, after that happened, a new cleaner would be sent around by the city after a few weeks — until the old man got fed up and the whole cycle started all over again.

But now Pesach was coming up. If this latest cleaner bit the dust, who would help Mr. Krankowitz with his Pesach cleaning? Indeed, half an hour later Mrs. Friedman heard the old man yell, “Go away and don’t come back again!”

Mrs. Friedman toyed with the idea of asking her own cleaner to help out Mr. Krankowitz, but she dismissed it immediately. Florentina was so sensitive that even a look of disapproval could send her into a tizzy, and Mrs. Friedman had to handle her with the greatest sensitivity. There was no way she could send her to the old man’s house; Florentina probably wouldn’t last two minutes, and she would never forgive Mrs. Friedman either.

On the other hand, Mr. Krankowitz definitely needed help! Mrs. Friedman racked her brain for another idea — and then it hit her. She would call Jolly Solly! He was sure to have a solution.

“Thank you very much for alerting me to this matter,” the clown responded thoughtfully to Mrs. Friedman. “Leave it to me. I’ll see to it that Mr. Krankowitz’s house is clean for Pesach.”

Mrs. Friedman was extremely curious as to how this was going to be accomplished, but she decided to wait and see.

The very next day, the mailman brought a large envelope for Mr. Krankowitz to sign. The old man looked at it suspiciously.

“What’s inside?” Mrs. Friedman heard him growl.

“No idea, sir. I’m paid to deliver mail, not to read it. Why don’t you open it?”

The old man ripped open the letter, curiosity making his hands shake even more than usual. He hardly ever got mail. Who was sending him a letter — and expensive registered mail, at that?

“It’s a free voucher!” Mrs. Friedman heard him exclaim in excitement. “For a meal at the best kosher restaurant in town, tomorrow night!”

The next evening, Mrs. Friedman had forgotten all about the voucher, when Fishel and Faivish came running inside excitedly.

“We just saw Mr. Krankowitz! He went off in a fancy limousine belonging to the Ritzy Restaurant. He’s eating there tonight. Can we go too?”

“Well, maybe for your birthday. But those won’t be for a while. Besides, there’s work to do, boys, or have you forgotten that Pesach is around the corner?”

With a martyred sigh, the troublesome pair abandoned their dreams of dining in luxury.

(Excerpted from Mishpacha Jr., Issue 756)