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96
The Inventions of the Idiot
·
John Kendrick Bangs
64
"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
objectionable
features
to
the
majority
of
them,
for
as
yet
Progressive
Waffles
has
not
been
played
at
Mrs.
Smithers-Pedagog's.
IX
A
Clearing-house
for
Poets
"How
is
your
Muse
these
days,
Mr.
Idiot?"
asked
the
Bibliomaniac
one
Sunday
morning
while
the
mush
was
being
served.
"Flourishing,"
said
the
Idiot.
"Just
flourishing--and
no
more."
"I
should
think
you'd
be
pleased
if
she
is
flourishing,"
said
the
Doctor.
"I'd
rather
she'd
stop
flourishing
and
do
a
little
writing,"
said
the
Idiot.
"She's
a
queer
Muse,
that
one
of
mine.
She
has
all
the
airs
and
graces
of
an
ordinary
type-writer
with
an
unconquerable
aversion
to
work."
"You
look
upon
your
Muse
as
you
would
upon
your
type-writer,
eh?"
said
Mr.
Pedagog.
"Yes,"
said
the
Idiot.
"That's
all
my
Muse
is,
and
she
isn't
even
a
capable
type-writer.
The
general
run
of
type-writers
make
sense
of
what
you
write,
but
my
Muse
won't.
You
may
not
believe
it,
but
out
of
ten
inspirations
I
had
last
week
not
one
of
them
is
fit
for
publication
anywhere
but
in
a
magazine
or
a
puzzle
column.
I
don't
know
what
is
the
matter
with
her,
but
when
I
sit
down
to
dictate
a
comic
sonnet
she
turns
it
into
a
serious
jingle,
and
vice
versa.
We
can't
seem
to
get
our
moods
to
fit.
When
I
want
to
be
serious
she's
flippant,
and
when
I
become
flippant
she's
serious."
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