A blockhead, having married his pretty cousin, gave the customary feast to their relations and friends. When the festivities were over, he conducted his guests to the door, and from absence of mind neglected to shut it before returning to his wife. “Dear cousin,” said his wife to him when they were alone, “go and shut the street door.” “It would be strange indeed,” he replied, “if I did such a thing. Am I just made a bridegroom, clothed in silk, wearing a shawl and a dagger set with diamonds, and am I to go and shut the door? Why, my dear, you are crazy. Go and shut it yourself.” “Oh, indeed!” exclaimed the wife. “Am I, young, robed in a dress, with lace and precious stones—am I to go and shut the street door? No, indeed! It is you who are become crazy, and not I. Come, let us make a bargain,” she continued; “and let the first who speaks go and fasten the door.” “Agreed,” said the husband, and immediately he became mute, and the wife too was silent, while they both sat down, dressed as they were in their nuptial attire, looking at each other and seated on opposite sofas. Thus they remained for two hours. Some thieves happened to pass by, and seeing the door open, entered and laid hold of whatever came to their hands. The silent couple heard footsteps in the house, but opened not their mouths. The thieves came into the room and saw them seated motionless and apparently indifferent to all that might take place. They continued their pillage, therefore, collecting together everything valuable, and even dragging away the carpets from beneath them; they laid hands on the noodle and his wife, taking from their persons every article of jewellery, while they, in fear of losing the wager, said not a word. Having thus cleared the house, the thieves departed quietly, but the pair continued to sit, uttering not a syllable. Towards morning a police officer came past on his tour of inspection, and seeing the door open, walked in. After searching all the rooms and finding no person, he entered their apartment, and inquired the meaning of what he saw. Neither of them would condescend to reply. The officer became angry, and ordered their heads to be cut off. The executioner’s sword was about to perform its office, when the wife cried out, “Sir, he is my husband. Do not kill him!” “Oh, oh,” exclaimed the husband, overjoyed and clapping his hands, “you have lost the wager; go and shut the door.” He then explained the whole affair to the police officer, who shrugged his shoulders and went away.
Another story, known in a score of variants is found in a collection of tales of the Kabaïl, Algeria, to this effect:
The mother of a youth of the Beni Jennad clan gave him a hundred reals to buy a mule; so he went to market, and on his way met a man carrying a water melon for sale. “How much for the melon?” he asks. “What will you give?” says the man. “I have only got a hundred reals,” answered the booby; “had I more, you should have it.” “Well,” rejoined the man, “I’ll take them.” Then the youth took the melon and handed over the money. “But tell me,” says he, “will its young one be as green as it is?” “Doubtless,” answered the man, “it will be green.” As the booby was going home, he allowed the melon to roll down a slope before him. It burst on its way, when up started a frightened hare. “Go to my house, young one,” he shouted. “Surely a green animal has come out of it.” And when he got home, he inquired of his mother if the young one had arrived.
Other stories of boobies or simpletons follow, taken here and there from the enormous mass of humorous literature on this theme.
Yet noodles are not always witless fools.
The principle of the humor in such tales is merely and only the superiority complex, that loves to laugh good naturedly or with a contemptuous tolerance at the speech or actions of those less clever than itself. It is the attitude of the cognoscenti toward,
“The lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy,
Who doesn’t think she waltzes,—but would rather like to try,”
as W. S. Gilbert puts it.
One day some men were walking by the riverside, and came to a place where the contrary currents caused the water to boil as in a whirlpool. “See how the water boils!” says one. “If we had plenty of oatmeal,” says another, “we might make enough porridge to serve all the village for a month.” So it was resolved that part of them should go to the village and fetch their oatmeal, which was soon brought and thrown into the river. But there presently arose the question of how they were to know when the porridge was ready. This difficulty was overcome by the offer of one of the company to jump in, and it was agreed that if he found it ready for use, he should signify the same to his companions. The man jumped in, and found the water deeper than he expected. Thrice he rose to the surface, but said nothing. The others, impatient at his remaining so long silent, and seeing him smack his lips, took this for an avowal that the porridge was good, and so they all jumped in after him and were drowned.