Part 6 (1/2)
”Oh, well,” said the Idiot wearily, ”you've got to a.s.sume some of the burdens of the business yourself. We can't do it all, you know. But suppose they do sue you? You never heard of a magazine recovering anything from a poet, did you? You'd get a heap of free advertising out of such a lawsuit, and if you were canny enough to put out a book of your verses while the newspapers were full of it, they'd go off like hot cakes, and you could retire with a cool million.”
”And where do I come in?” asked the Doctor. ”Don't I get any of these plums of prosperity your Telephonic Aid Society is to place within the reach of all?”
”On payment of the fee of ten dollars, and signing the regular contract,” said the Idiot. ”I'll do my best for you. In your case I should impersonate our good old friend Andrew Rockernegie. Acting in that capacity I would ring up Mr. John D. Reddymun, and you'd hear something like this:
”Me--h.e.l.lo, Reddy--is this you?
”Reddymun--Yes. Who's this?
”Me--This is Uncle Andy. How's the leg this morning?
”Reddymun--Oh, so so.
”Me--Everybody pulling it, I suppose?
”Reddymun--About the same as usual. It's curious, Andrew, how many people are attached to my limb, and how few are attached to me.
”Me--Yes, it's a cold and cruel world, John. But I'm through. I've found the way out. They'll never pull my leg again.
”Reddymun--By George, old man, I wish I could say as much.
”Me--Well, you can if you'll only do what I did.
”Reddymun--What's that?
”Me--Had it cut off.
”Reddymun--No!
”Me--Yep!
”Reddymun--When?
”Me--Just now.
”Reddymun--Hurt?
”Me--Never knew what was happening.
”Reddymun--Who did it?
”Me--Old Doctor Squills. He charged me ten thousand dollars for the job, but I figure it out that it has saved me six hundred and thirty three million dollars.
”Reddymun--Send him around, will you?
”Me--Ubetcha!”
”And then?” said the Doctor.