The Inventions of the Idiot Page 8

  VIII

  Progressive Waffles

  "I am afraid," said Mr. Pedagog, in a loud whisper to the Bibliomaniac,"that the Idiot isn't feeling well this morning. He has eaten threefish-cakes and a waffle without opening his mouth."

  The Idiot looked up, and, gazing wearily at Mr. Pedagog for a moment,shrugged his shoulders and ejaculated, "Tutt!"

  "He's off," said the Bibliomaniac. "Whenever he says 'Tutt!' you canmake up your mind that his vocabulary is about to be loosed."

  "If my vocabulary were as warped as some other vocabularies I mightmention," said the Idiot, helping himself to another waffle modelledafter the six of hearts, "I'd keep it in a cage. A man who observes thatI have eaten three fish-cakes and a waffle without opening my mouthhasn't a very good command of language. He simply states as a fact whatis in reality an impossibility, granting that I eat with my mouth, whichI am told I do."

  "You know what I mean," retorted Mr. Pedagog, impatiently. "I am so muchin your society that I have acquired the very bad habit of speaking inthe vernacular. When I say you haven't opened your mouth I do not referto the opening you make for the receipt of waffles and fish-cakes, butfor those massive openings which you require for your exuberantloquacity. In other words, I mean that you haven't spoken a word for atleast three minutes, which is naturally an indication to us that youaren't feeling well. You and talk are synonymous as far as we areconcerned."

  "I _have_ been known to speak--that is true," said the Idiot. "That I amnot feeling very well this morning is also true. I have a headache."

  "A what ache?" asked the Doctor, scornfully.

  "A very bad headache," returned the Idiot, looking about him for a thirdwaffle.

  "How singular!" said the Bibliomaniac. "Reminds me of a story I heard ofa man who had lost his foot. He'd had his foot shot off at Gettysburg,and yet for years after he could feel the pangs of rheumatism in thatfoot from which he had previously suffered."

  "Pardon me for repeating," observed the Idiot. "But, as I have alreadysaid, and as I expect often to have to say again, Tutt! I can't blameyou for thinking that I have no head, however. I find so little use forone here that in most instances I do not obtrude it upon you."

  "I haven't noticed any lack of head in the Idiot," put in theSchool-master. "As a rule, I can agree to almost anything my friend theBibliomaniac says, but in this case I cannot accept his views. You havea head. I have always said you had a head--in fact, that is what Icomplain about chiefly, it is such a big head."

  "Thank you," said the Idiot, ignoring the shaft. "I shall never forgetyour kindness in coming to my aid, though I can't say that I think Ineeded it. Even with a racking headache sustained by these deliciouswaffles, I believe I can handle the Doctor and my bookish friend withoutassistance. I am what the mathematicians would call an arithmeticalabsurdity--I am the one that is equal to the two they represent. Atpresent, however, I prefer to let them talk on. I am too much absorbedin thought and waffles to bandy words."

  "If I had a headache," said Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog, without, it must besaid, in any way desiring to stem the waffle tide which was slowly butsurely eating into the profits of the week--"if I had a headache Ishould not eat so many waffles, Mr. Idiot."

  "I suppose I ought not to," replied the Idiot, "but I can't help it,ma'am. Waffles are my weakness. Some men take to drink, some to gaming;I seek forgetfulness of woe in waffles. Mr. Whitechoker, will you kindlypass me that steaming ten of diamonds that is wasting its warmth uponthe desert air before you?"

  Mr. Whitechoker, with a sigh which indicated that he had had his eye onthe ten of diamonds himself, did as he was requested.

  "Many thanks," said the Idiot, transferring the waffle to his plate."Let me see--that is how many?"

  "Five," said Mr. Pedagog.

  "Eight," said the Bibliomaniac.

  "Dear me!" ejaculated the Idiot. "Why can't you agree? I never eat lessthan twelve waffles, and now that you have failed to keep tab I shallhave to begin all over again. Mary, bring me one dozen fresh waffles insquads of four. This is an ideal breakfast, Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog."

  "I am glad you are pleased," said the landlady, graciously. "My one aimis to satisfy."

  "You are a better shot than most women," said the Idiot. "I wonder whyit is," he added, "that waffles are so generally modelled afterplaying-cards, and also why, having been modelled after playing-cards,there is not a full pack?"

  "Fifty-two waffles," said Mr. Whitechoker, "would be too many."

  "Fifty-three, including the joker," said Mr. Pedagog.

  "What do _you_ know about cards, John?" asked Mrs. Pedagog, severely.

  The Idiot laughed.

  "Did you ever hear that pretty little song of Gilbert and Sullivan's,Mr. Poet, 'Things are seldom what they seem'?" he asked.

  "Why shouldn't I know about playing-cards?" said Mr. Pedagog, acridly."Mr. Whitechoker seems to be aware that a pack holds fifty-two cards--ifhe, why not I?"

  "I--ah--I of course have to acquaint myself with many vicious thingswith which I have very little sympathy," observed Mr. Whitechoker,blandly. "I regard cards as an abomination."

  "So do I," said Mr. Pedagog--"so do I. But even then I know a fullhouse--I should say a full pack from a--er--a--er--"

  "Bob-tail flush," suggested the Idiot.

  "Sir," said Mr. Pedagog, "I am not well up in poker terms."

  "Then you ought to play," said the Idiot. "The man who doesn't know thegame has usually great luck. But I am sorry, Mrs. Pedagog, that you areso strongly opposed to cards, for I was going to make a suggestion whichI think would promote harmony in our little circle on waffle days. Ifyou regard cards as wholly immoral, of course the suggestion is withoutvalue, since it involves two complete packs of cards--one cardboard packand one waffle pack."

  "I don't object to cards as cards, Mr. Idiot," said the landlady. "It isthe games people play with cards that I object to. They bring a greatdeal of unnecessary misery into the world, and for that reason I thinkit is better to avoid them altogether."

  "That is quite true," said the Idiot. "They do bring about muchunhappiness. I know a young woman who became a victim of insomnia oncebecause in a series of ten games of old maid she got the odd card seventimes. Of course it wasn't entirely the cards' fault. Superstition hadsomething to do with it. In fact, I sometimes think the fault lies withthe people who play, and not with the cards. I owe much to the game ofwhist. It taught me to control my tongue. I should have been a regulartalk-fiend if it hadn't been for whist."

  Mr. Pedagog looked unutterable things at the Idiot.

  "Are you laboring under the delusion that you have any control over yourtongue?" he asked, savagely.

  "Most certainly," said the Idiot.

  "Well, I'll have to make a note of that," said Mr. Pedagog. "I have afriend who is making a collection of hallucinations."

  "If you'll give me his address," said the Idiot, "I'll send himthousands. For five dollars a dozen I'll invent hallucinations for himthat people ought to have but haven't."

  "No," returned the School-master. "In his behalf, however, I thank you.He collects only real hallucinations, and he finds there are plenty ofthem without retaining a professional lunatic to supply him."

  "Very well," said the Idiot, returning to his waffles. "If at any timehe finds the supply running short, I shall be glad to renew my offer."

  "You haven't unfolded your Harmony Promoting Scheme for Waffle Days,"suggested the Poet. "It has aroused my interest."

  "Oh, it is simple," said the Idiot. "I have noticed that on waffle dayshere most of us leave the table more or less dissatisfied. We findourselves plunged into acrimonious discussions, which, to my mind,arise entirely from the waffles. Mr. Pedagog is a most amiablegentleman, and yet we find him this morning full of acerbity. On thesurface of things I seem to be the cause of his anger, but in reality itis not I, but the waffles. He has seen me gradually absorbing them andit has irritated him. Every waffle that I eat _he_ might have had if Ihad not been
here. If there had been no one here but Mr. Pedagog, hewould have had all the waffles; as it is, his supply is limited. Thisaffects his geniality. It makes him--"

  "Pardon me," said Mr. Pedagog. "But you are all wrong. I haven't thoughtof the things at all."

  "Consciously to yourself you have not," said the Idiot. "Subconsciously,however, you have. The Philosophy of the Unconscious teaches us thatunknown to ourselves our actions are directly traceable to motives wewot not of. The truth of this is conclusively proven in this case. Evenwhen I point out to you the facts in the case you deny their truth,thereby showing that you are not conscious of the real underlying motivefor your irritation. Now, why is that irritation there? Because ourseveral rights to the individual waffles that are served here are notclearly defined at the outset. When Mary brings in a steaming platterfull of these delicious creations of the cook, Mr. Pedagog has quite asmuch right to the one with the six of hearts on it as I have, but I getit. He does not. Hence he is irritated, although he does not know it. Sowith Mr. Whitechoker. Five minutes ago he was hastening through the fourof spades in order that he might come into possession of the ten ofdiamonds that lay smoking before him. As he was about to put the lastspade in his mouth I requested him to hand me the ten of diamonds,having myself gulped down the deuce of clubs to get ahead of him. Hecouldn't decline to give me that waffle because he wanted it himself. Hehad to give it to me. He was irritated--though he did not know it. Hesighed and gave me the waffle."

  "I did want it," said Mr. Whitechoker. "But I did not know that Isighed."

  "There you are," said the Idiot. "It is the Philosophy of theUnconscious again. If you are not conscious of so actual a thing as asigh, how much the more unconscious must you be of something so subtleas motive?"

  "And your waffle-deck?" said the Genial Old Gentleman who occasionallyimbibes. "How will that solve the problem? It seems to me to complicatethe problem. As it is, we have about thirty waffles, each one of whichis a germ of irritation in the breast of the man who _doesn't_ eat it.If you have fifty-two waffles you have twenty-two more germs to sowdiscord in our midst."

  "You would have but for my scheme," said the Idiot. "I'd have a pack ofcards at the table, and I'd deal them out just as you do in whist. Eachcard would represent the corresponding waffle. We'd begin breakfast byplaying one hand after the manner of whist. Each man would keep histricks, and when the waffles were served he would receive those, andthose only, represented by the cards in the tricks he had taken. If youtook a trick with the king of diamonds in it, you'd get the waffle withthe king of diamonds on it, and so on. Every man would be clearlyentitled through his skill in the game to the waffles that he ate."

  "Very good," said Mr. Whitechoker. "But suppose you had bad luck andtook no tricks?"

  "Then," said the Idiot, "you'd have bad luck and get no waffles."

  "Tutt!" said Mr. Pedagog.

  And that was the sole criticism any of the boarders had to make,although there is reason to believe that the scheme had objectionablefeatures to the majority of them, for as yet Progressive Waffles has notbeen played at Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog's.