Lost and Found in the Cloakroom at the Cheese Maker’s

Found

A letter addressed to “whom it may so concern” wanting to know why the cheese maker has a cloakroom, and  recycling some rather tired and sophomoric jokes about cheese. Also found: The overcoat in whose interior pocket the missive in question was discovered.  The item(s) may be claimed at the cloakroom.

Found

Microfilm, a spy camera disguised as a tie clip, and other espionage paraphernalia (along with sketches and diagrams of some of our top secret manufacturing and aging methods).  During a routine cleaning, the aforementioned tumbled out from under the lid of a decorative artificial pumpkin hard by the tip jar, and were sealed in an envelope labeled “W. Chambers.” Inquiries are to be made at the front desk.

Lost

A keychain in the shape of a miniature  wedge of Swiss cheese atop a miniature cutting board bearing the legend: “Liberté, égalité, From” (the engraver did not have sufficient room to complete the thought).  A generous reward is offered for information leading to the safe return of this keepsake. Please contact Mr. Tinsleydale at Box 6.

Found

A first edition hardcover original of “Things Fall Apart” by Chinua Achebe, dog-eared, covered with coffee stains, and containing an inscription in blood & ink signed by the author. Note: The binding is starting to fail, and the pages are in danger of falling out. Note in addition: The book was in mint condition when it was rescued from the satchel belonging to the owner or owners unknown who forgot to check to make certain it was there upon reclaiming the satchel.  We do not know how the coffee stains, inter alia, got there, and disclaim all responsibility for this and everything else.

Lost

A shoelace. Plus, the other shoelace.  Plus, left shoe.  Plus, right shoe. Plus, socks (left + right), a pair of underpants, a pair of trousers, a shirt, and an I.D. badge from the Museum of Flannel. Please send asap to the county jail where, upon waking up,  I was hauled off after being charged with lewd and lascivious behavior. My court-appointed counsel says these things are rather critical to my defense.

Lost

A keychain in the shape of  the end-piece of a miniature cutting board engraved with the legend age.  None of us are quite certain what it refers to, but we have grown rather fond of it and would like it back.

Found

A suit of armor, and a pair of jodhpurs. (Under the circumstances, the jodhpurs seem rather superfluous, but whom are we to editorialize? We’re just the coat check people at a cheese factory). The collection may be retrieved from the cloakroom.

Found

A riding crop. (Could it be that this particular article accidentally became separated from a set of jodhpurs recently left on the premises?  Odder things have happened.) Please inquire at the front desk.

Found

A gold watch. The face is graced with ebony Roman numerals set against an ivory background incorporating a little square window where the III should be to allow the display of the date. Underneath the XII at the top appears the label: “Genève 1892.”  On the reverse is the following inscription:  “Liberté, égalité, Age!”  The wristband is a dark leather and contains seven pinholes, one of which is slightly larger than the others due, presumably, to over-use. The watchmaker’s name, “Melies et Fils” is etched around the left side of the casing.  Because of the apparent value of this timepiece, it will be surrendered only to a person who can give an accurate description of it.  Please inquire at the front desk.

Found

A pair of riding boots and a lance.

Lost

A half-finished glass of Sancerre. I put it down, momentarily on the ledge of the Dutch door of the coatroom so that I could fish around for some coinage to toss into the tip jar.  When I looked up, the glass was gone and the coat check person was looking at the ceiling and whistling while tapping a novel by Chinua Achebe violently with a riding crop, so I don’t see how she could have drunk it.

Found

A note tucked into the band of a gentleman’s hat. The note reads: “Col. Mustard in the library with a candlestick.  – A. Hiss.” (Could "A." stand for Age?).  The hat had about it no other clues as to its provenance. The note has been hidden inside a decorative object in the cloakroom for safekeeping.

Lost

A table setting from a picnic basket (including a plate, fork, knife, and spoon). On the plate is written:  “Ch.” On the fork is written “ee.” On the knife is written “se.” On the spoon written “ey.” Please help us locate it.  We need it to complete our set.

Found

1 from, 1 age, 1 chee, and 1 se. These may be claimed at the wine bar at closing tim

e. 

Outtakes from the Ten Commandments*

עשרת הדברות

2(a) “Graven Images” include, but are not limited to, smiley faces constructed from parentheses and colons and all manner of emoticons in the firmament as well as in the hard-to-reach places under the firmament.

4(a)  Notwithstanding the foregoing, and without limitation thereof, if you are a rabbi or a cantor, what, exactly, are you doing on  Shabbat if not working? Ironic, n'es pas?

9(a)  Even if your neighbor bears false witness against you, resist the urge to return the favor. Instead, build a fence.  Good fences usually make good neighbors, but if not, there’s always adverse possession.

10(a) And when I say: “Do not covet anything that is your neighbor’s,” this includes fences.

10(b)  “Its” is possessive; “it’s,” a contraction. If you can’t keep this straight while walking around your neighbor’s fence in a garment of mixed fibers, just keep right on walking to banishment in the Wilderness of Zin, because if there are two things that really set me off, it’s mixed fibers and people who say things like: “The country is full of wild beasts, and it’s people are warlike and on a hair-trigger, and kind of ugly.”  

10(c) And speaking of adverse possession, let’s say you have borrowed something from your neighbor and have failed to return it for so long that now your neighbor has forgotten who owned it originally and starts coveting it (even though it was really your neighbor’s to begin with), then both you and your neighbor will be forgiven. But not your neighbor’s maidservant.

10(d) Don’t covet your neighbor’s plans for building a fence.  Are plans even really necessary?  How hard is it to build a fence?

10(e) Don’t covet the way your neighbor says “covet.”

10(f) Don’t fence me in.

10(g)  :)

10(h)  J

 _____________

* In the original, of course, the word is really “utterances,” not “commandments,” but a busybody scribe thought there would be less slacking if everything was framed in the imperative. Some time ago, the film version of “The Ten Utterances” enjoyed a brief lifespan as an honorable mention at the Minsk-Pinsk Film Festival (held semi-annually in the Second Class cars of the Minsk to Pinsk rail express), until the train broke down and the passengers were required to sign confidentiality agreements before they could disembark. Thus, no one was allowed to make any reference to the film.  This is where the phrase “Don’t mention it” comes from, in an instant transforming an “honorable” mention to a “don’t.”  Ever since then, the film has enjoyed a well-deserved obscurity.