It all happened in the days of Ahasuerus, who reigned over 50 provinces from Indiana to New Mexico. In the eighth month of the eighth year of his reign, the king gave a banquet — actually a convention — in Los Angeles, for all his ministers and courtiers and all his donors. There were lavish parties, feasting and merrymaking, as the assembled multitudes celebrated the vast riches and prosperity of his kingdom, and the successes of the king.
There were hangings of white cotton and blue and red. And there was gavel-to-gavel coverage on television. Well, at least on cable.
On the third day, the king summoned his queen, Vashti. But she refused to come at his command. The king was greatly incensed, and his fury burned within him. For Vashti had greater plans for the far-flung province of New York, and she was tired of standing by her king. So, Ahasuerus banished Vashti, and she became a heroine to women all over the world.
Now, the king decided to have a contest. Not for another queen, but for a replacement for himself. Term limits — he was forbidden to reign for more than eight years.
The king and his courtiers first considered a scholar from Rhodes who distinguished himself in battles at the Garden. But in the end, they chose the king’s closest adviser, Alger, to succeed him.
Alger was grateful to be chosen; his whole life he aspired to be king. But he was embarrassed about Ahasuerus’ wild banquets and harems and concubines. So, in choosing his own partner, Alger chose Mordechai, from the men of Lieber, a Connecticutite, an upright man and a pious person of Judah.
There was a great commotion when Mordechai was chosen. Never before had a Jew been selected for a position of such high honor. “Only in Shushan,” Mordechai said.
Being a man of faith, Mordechai wanted to acknowledge God publicly with prayers of thanksgiving. But Abraham, from the men of Fox, reprimanded him, reminding Mordechai that God’s name does not appear even once in Megillat Esther.
Although Ahasuerus wanted Alger to succeed him, there existed a rival for the throne. Haman, a son of Haman, was the ruler of one of the king’s largest provinces (and of no relation to the evil Haman of Megillat Esther lore). He had advanced himself higher than any of his fellow officials. The king defeated Haman’s father once before, so to make it interesting, Ahasuerus decreed that the next ruler would be chosen by the casting of lots, or purim.
A spirited contest ensued. Alger removed his royal apparel and donned special garb — earth tones and wireless hand-held devises. Haman wore a smirk, and a special hat: a three-cornered Stetson. And they pled their case to every province, near and far. Mordechai visited so many provinces, he appeared as if he tore his clothes and put on sackcloth and ashes.
Meanwhile, confident Alger would win, Ahasuerus ordered his men to put up a large platform, 50 cubits high, at the base of his capitol, on which Alger and Mordechai would assume the throne and address the people of Shushan.
On the seventh day of the 11th month, the people went to cast their lots, and the seers and the oracles predicted that the contest would be close. And it was.
Messengers brought the news that the entire election came down to one province in the southern reach of the kingdom. At the beginning, Alger was slightly ahead. But Haman’s brother, the governor of the province, told Haman not to worry. Soon, Haman was a bit ahead. Mordechai, too, assured Alger: The province had many of Mordechai’s brethren in its land.
Mordechai called some of his people there to learn the why and wherefore of it all. But they sounded worn and tired. “What has befallen you, landsmen?” Mordechai inquired. “We are fatigued from the celebration of Purim,” they told him. “We were merry with wine, and danced in condo clubhouses until dawn.”
“No, no,” he cried, for Mordechai figured it out. His people mistook the day to cast purim, with the day to celebrate Purim.
Intoxicated by copious amounts of libations, they cast their lots, but could not tell the difference between Alger, Mordechai and Haman. These people of Judah never forgot who they were; they just could not tell who Alger and Mordechai were.
And so it came to pass. The great stage that was put up for Alger and Mordechai was instead used by Haman to assume the throne. And the Jews undertook the obligation to stop drinking on Purim, not when they can no longer tell the difference between Mordechai and Haman, but whenever they see a butterfly.