Fiction
Four Questionsby David Berger
My Uncle Jake was a murderer. Oy, was he a murderer! I don’t usually make jokes about this sort of thing, but after a while, even the cops in the neighborhood called him, “Jake Bernstein the Murderer.” Uncle Jake was such a murderer he even murdered people on holidays, even Jewish holidays, like Passover. (Passover: The Jewish holiday that comes in the spring; celebrates the Exodus from Egypt; you should already know this.)
Uncle Jake and Aunt Becky’s apartment in Brooklyn was in a two-story house with the liquor store they owned downstairs. It had two bathrooms. One was a regular one between the two bedrooms. The other one was tiny, off the kitchen. It had a window that opened onto the fire escape. If need be, Uncle Jake could go out the window, do
