The fidgeltick tastes good, but is it really worth while? Come now,—doesn’t salad really bore you—unless it is served, as in California, at the beginning of a meal, while you are still hungry? Broiled live lobster! How succulent, yet how meagre its reward to the appetite! Frogs’ legs are fidgelticks, and shad and grape fruit and pistachios. Why can’t such tasteful delicacies be built with the satisfactory architecture of the banana? The artichoke gives perhaps the minimum of reward with the maximum of effect. (See Voip.)
And who does not flinch at a Bent’s water cracker?
To make cranberry sauce with the skins in, and cherry pie with the stones, should be against the law.
So it is, to extract information from a railroad official after an accident. Interviewing the master of a steamer is like getting the meat out of a butternut, or the flesh out of a shrimp. Sooner or later, you will give him up in discouragement. He’s a fidgeltick! (See Jurp.)
Politely you inquire of a ticket seller at the theatre; you might as well talk with a foreigner, or a deaf man. All, all are fidgelticks!
I wish that I could eat as fast
As actors, on the stage;
Five minutes does a dinner last—
No fidgelticks enrage.
If they should dine on soft boiled eggs
In some new problem play,
Or lobsters broiled, or frogs’ hind legs—
What would the actors say?
Floo´i-jab, n. 1. A cutting remark, disguised in sweetness. 2. A ladylike trouble-maker.
Floo´i-jab, v. To make a sarcastic comment in a feminine manner.
Floo-i-jab´ber-y, n. Feline amenity.