Humor
Esau Trades his Home for a Toothpick
The Art of the Bad Deal
Fresh off weaseling his brother Jacob out of a pot of stew, Esau eyed the toothpick dangling precariously from Jacob’s lower lip.
“I’ll give you my house for your toothpick,” said Esau. “Done,” his brother replied.
“Swindled him again,” he thought smugly, digging the dry point deep in between his incisors.
“What a glorious win,” he thought, examining the fine craftsmanship. Pine, or perhaps eucalyptus — a smooth grain incapable of causing splinters. It was dual-sided, drying the brothers’ saliva quickly. Esau had heard a story about a local teen who traded a grain of rice for a small hut. “How his parents must have flogged the foolish boy,” he thought. “You can’t eat a hut,” they hopefully scolded him.
How much more could Esau trade for his priceless toothpick? Just then, a camel trader paraded past. The camels were double-humped, youthful, and had had their ankle weights removed. Worth a pretty price.
He would have to be shrewd.
“Trade you this toothpick for your camels,” said Esau, overbidding.
“Haw haw, he haw ho heigh,” chuckled the camels.
“Best I can do is their toe jam,” replied the trader, and Esau vigorously shook his leathered hand. Another victory. He knew the toe jam would fetch a fine price. “Tell you what, for a ride around the dunes, I’ll throw in the clothes off my back.” The traders nodded fervently, unaware Esau was a master negotiator.
Later he nakeded upon a leper in a cave. “Trade you this gold cross necklace for a bit of your contagious disease?” The leper nodded.
Poor luck of that man to run across me… I would have just given him the cross for free.
Itching his boil, he returned to Jacob. “Tada!” he exclaimed, his flesh burning under the ruthless sun. “Traded my way up to a communicable disease!”
“…”
The devil saw his chance and materialized. But before he could speak, Esau shouted, “gimme eternal damnation for those satyr hooves?”
“Deal,” the devil replied.
“Hell is nice,” thought Esau, though the stew burned his tongue. “Say,” he mentioned to Beelzebub, “trade you a month of torture for a toothpick?” The foolish demon accepted. He examined the wood. Damn, he’d hit the jackpot. It was balsa. “I can fetch a fine price for this,” he thought as a mischievous grin crept over his face.
