When a man in a concentration camp is granted three wishes, he uses them in a most unexpected way …
This may be the only title I’ve ever come up with that now embarrasses me. A punning title for a story about the Holocaust is bad enough, but for it to be a bad pun makes it even worse. If I ever choose to reprint this story, it will appear under a less offensive title.
The story itself, however, while perhaps offensive to those who think there should be no fiction written about the Holocaust at all because it is too haunting and sensitive an event, still has its appeal to me—though decades later I can certainly see how I might have written it less clumsily.
This story appeared in the Spring of 1988 in the fifth issue of Deathrealm.