The Classic Humor MEGAPACK ®. Эдгар Аллан По
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“He was just sech a discontented old kicker like you are, Daniel, but he was worse off—he didn’t have no S. Potts to be a model to him. He had a nice, steady job sawing wood, an’ all he ever had to do was just rest one knee on the sawbuck an’ push a saw up an’ down all day; no brain work, like the kind that wears me out—just plain wood-sawing. He had everything to make a man happy, except he didn’t have no friend to come across from the saloon an’ give him good advice, like you have.”
“I’m satisfied,” Daniel said, but S. Potts continued:
“No, you ain’t, an’ he wasn’t. He was like you, Daniel. He wanted to invent, an’ he looked around to see somethin’ to invent that hadn’t been invented already, an’ what he saw was false teeth. False teeth looked to him like a good thing to invent, because nobody had invented anything very new in false teeth since he could remember.”
“Say,” exclaimed Daniel enviously, “I wisht I had thought of false teeth! False teeth would be a mighty good thing to invent, wouldn’t it, S. Potts?”
“I told you you hadn’t no more sense than Peter Guppy had,” said S. Potts pitilessly, “but Peter Guppy had more brains than what you have, Daniel. How would you go about inventing false teeth? Just tell me how!”
Daniel gazed at the sawdusty level of South Fourteenth Street, and creased his tanned forehead into thoughtful wrinkles. He shifted uneasily on his bench, and frowned hard. “Well, of course, I can’t say right off like this,” he said at length, “but if I had time—”
“The reason nobody had been gittin’ up new inventions in false teeth,” interrupted S. Potts, “was the same then as it is today—false teeth was already as good as they could be made. But Peter Guppy was like you, always complainin’ an’ unsatisfied, so he went an’ had the few old teeth he had left in his head pulled out, an’ had a good set of false ones made—double set, uppers an’ lowers—an’ he used to set on his saw-buck day after day with them false teeth in his hand, studyin’ ’em an’ studyin’ ’em, an’ wonderin’ how he could improve on ’em. An’ at night he would sigh, an’ go to bed, an’ then he couldn’t sleep for thinkin’ of them false teeth. He was about three years thinkin’ how to invent better false teeth.”
“It was worth it, it was worth it!” said Daniel enthusiastically.
“Three years,” said S. Potts, “that was the time that Peter Guppy put in settin’ around holdin’ his uppers an’ lowers in his hand. Sometimes he would hold the uppers in one hand an’ the lowers in the other, an’ sometimes he would hold them all in one hand an’ scratch his head with the other, an’ all the while he was gittin’ more an’ more discouraged. They ain’t nothin’ more disheartenin’ than to set day after day studyin’ false teeth. The more you look at ’em the more they look just like what they always looked like. But Peter Guppy was just sech a fool as you are, Daniel. He hadn’t no sense.”
“Well, S. Potts, we can’t all be—” began Daniel.
“He was lazy, that’s what he was,” said S. Potts. “He wanted to git rich quick, like you do. He’d set by the day with them uppers an’ lowers in his hand, openin’ an’ shuttin’ his hand so them teeth would champ open an’ shut before his eyes, an’ when he got tired in his right hand he would shift them teeth over into his left hand an’ go on champin’ ’em. So one day he says: ‘I declare to goodness, if it’s goin’ to take ma forty years to invent somethin’ new about these here teeth, I wisht there was some way the plaguy things could do their own champin’! My hands is ’most wore out champin’ the plaguy things.’ An’ right there, Daniel, was where he got the idee.”
“I can almost see it, S. Potts,” said Daniel.
“Power!” said S. Potts. “Power! That’s what he thought of. That’s what a lazy man always thinks of first off—gittin’ power to do his work for him. First off Peter Guppy thought he’d hire a boy to champ his teeth for him, whilst all he had to do would be to lay back an’ look on; but he didn’t have no money to hire a boy. Then he thought what a fine thing it would be to have self-workin’ teeth that would champ by machinery whilst he looked on, an’ then he stood up an’ yelled. He’d thought what he could invent about false teeth. He could invent self-operatin’ teeth. Nobody had ever invented self-operatin’ teeth, so far as he knew.”
“I wisht I had thought of that invention,” said Daniel greedily.
“I bet you do,” said S. Potts. “That’s about what sense you’ve got. But it wasn’t much to invent. I could have thought of it long before Peter Guppy did, but I seen it was a foolish thing to invent, so I didn’t think of it. Anybody could have seen that the only way to improve a perfect thing like false teeth was to put power into them, but I wouldn’t do it. No, sir! But Peter Guppy went right ahead an’ done it. He set right to work an’ invented Guppy’s Auxiliary Motor Teeth, an’ was as proud as pie. Soon as I seen ’em I shook my head. I hated to discourage him, but I hadn’t no faith in self-actin’ teeth, so I just hiked up my head an’ shook it. But it didn’t do no good.
“I guess he made a lot o’ money, didn’t he?” asked Daniel wistfully.
“Out of an invention I had shook my head at?” questioned S. Potts scornfully. “Peter Guppy thought he would make a lot of money. That’s what he thought. Them teeth looked all right, an’ they would have fooled you, Daniel. They was rigged up with a clockwork spring, an’ when Peter Guppy touched a button they went right to work an’ chewed. Just like I’m openin’ an’ shuttin’ my hand here—champ, champ, champ! That’s the way they worked when Peter Guppy held ’em in his hand. He was all swelled up about ’em. He figgered they’d save a lot of labor, an’ lots of time, too, because all a feller had to do was push his food into his mouth, an’ them teeth would do the chewin’. Peter Guppy was mighty proud.”
“I’d be proud,” said Daniel.
“I wasn’t,” said S. Potts. “I waited. Peter Guppy went around town tellin’ how he was the greatest benefactor America ever had, an’ that all this nation had needed was him to invent them teeth, an’ now it would be the happiest on earth, he said everybody knew that what was the matter with America was indigestion an’ dyspepsia, caused by lack of not chewin’ their food enough, caused by lack of time for eatin’. Now, he said, folks wouldn’t have to chew long, they could chew quick. They could set their teeth at high speed, an’ the teeth would chew sixty bites a second, or if they wanted to git some satisfaction chewin’ tobacco or gum they could set the teeth at low speed an’ chew long an’ steady. All lazy people would have to do would be to set with their mouths open an’ let the Guppy Auxiliary Motor Teeth go ahead an’ chew. Peter Guppy used to stand down at the post-office corner an’ place them teeth on the sidewalk an’ set ’em goin’, an’ the whole crowd would stand off an’ admire ’em whilst they champed away, sixty bites to the second, as regular as clockwork.”
“What’d he put ’em on the sidewalk for, S. Potts?” asked Daniel.
“They was safest there,” said S. Potts. “Peter Guppy had let ’em champ so much in his hand that the muscles of his hand was all tired out, an’ he was afraid they might champ out of his hand an’ fall an’ git broken; but on the sidewalk they just champed around in a circle, goin’ kind o’ hippety-hop. They traveled backward like a crab, but the action was more like a clamshell, only quicker. You don’t often see a clamshell open an’ shut sixty opens an’ sixty shuts to the second, Daniel.”
“I don’t recall none,” said Daniel. “Why didn’t he use them teeth in the regular way.”
“There was one bad thing about them teeth,” said S. Potts. “They had to have room in ’em for the spring, an’ that made ’em step mos’ too high when he had ’em in his mouth. Peter had only about a two-inch-high mouth, an’ them teeth was three-inch steppers. They sort o’ strained his mouth. There ain’t nothin’ much worse in false teeth than to have ’em tread too high, ’specially when they tread by machinery.