“And is that worse than Idiocy?” demanded Mr. Brief.
“Infinitely,” said the Idiot. “If a bank lost fifteen dollars on my idiocy it would be out ninety-nine hundred and eighty-five dollars less than that Oklahoma institution is on its hot-air loan.”
“Bosh! What’s Hot Air worth on the Exchange to-day?”
“As a selling proposition, zero and commissions off,” said the Idiot. “Fact is, they’ve changed its name. It is now known as International Nitting.”
V
HE SUGGESTS A COMIC OPERA
THERE’S a harvest for you,” said the Idiot, as he perused a recently published criticism of a comic opera. “There have been thirty-nine new comic operas produced this year and four of ’em were worth seeing. It is very evident that the Gilbert and Sullivan industry hasn’t gone to the wall whatever slumps other enterprises have suffered from.”
“That is a goodly number,” said the Poet. “Thirty-nine, eh? I knew there was a raft of them, but I had no idea there were as many as that.”
“Why don’t you go in and do one, Mr. Poet?” suggested the Idiot. “They tell me it’s as easy as rolling off a log. All you’ve got to do is to forget all your ideas and remember all the old jokes you ever heard, slap ’em together around a lot of dances, write two dozen lyrics about some Googoo Belle, hire a composer, and there you are. Hanged if I haven’t thought of writing one myself.”