Wise Men and a Mule — Reading Companion

A Committee of Self-Appointed Experts

The pageant committee includes Buck Masterson, Wick Smith, Judge Steele, Old Testament Tilton, and Magpie Simpkins. They argue over casting “three wise men,” the necessity of a star, and the acquisition of a camel—which they call a “camule.” Judge Steele insists the star must shed its “effulgent rays across the desert,” a phrase that contrasts sharply with the mundane setting of Piperock. Dirty Shirt Jones and Ike Harper, though uninvited, attend anyway, offering sarcastic commentary. Dirty predicts the event will be a “death trap” and a “suicide,” while Ike declares they will not participate: “Our hearts are hard and our minds are made up like a mule’s.” This early resistance foreshadows the chaos to come.

The Mule as Unwilling Actor

The mule, Maud S, becomes a central figure in the comedy. Wick Smith worries she is on her last legs, but Mrs. Smith dismisses her as a “de-eared hay-hound.” Despite her apparent weakness, Maud S delivers a kick that sends Magpie flying through the curtain and into Mrs. Smith during her solo. The narrator reports: “She must ’a’ just sort of cramped herself and then let fly with both hoofs.” The mule’s actions are unpredictable and destructive, undermining the pageant’s solemnity. Her presence transforms the performance into a physical comedy, with characters tumbling and instruments clashing. The mule is both a prop and a protagonist, refusing to cooperate with the human plans.

Orchestral Discord and Vocal Catastrophe

The orchestra consists of a flute, a drum, and a jew’s-harp, producing a cacophony described as “Tweet, tweet, tweet! Bum! Bum! Bum! Whar-r-r-oo-o-o-o-o-m-m-m-m.” The duet between Miss Mudgett and Mrs. Smith is rendered as a jumble of sounds: “Spree-e-e-hing, lovely spree-e-e-hing, tweet, tweet, bum, whar-r-r-oo-m.” The lyrics are swallowed by the instruments, and the performance collapses when Magpie crashes into Mrs. Smith. The audience reacts with laughter and thuds, and Big Foot Forrest is silenced by a blow. The judge, struck by a drumstick, regresses to a previous legal case, muttering about innocence. The music and violence blend into a single chaotic spectacle.

Narrative Voice and Structural Repetition

Ike Harper narrates in a first-person, folksy style, using phrases like “I figured it was about time for you to say something, Ike” and “We will toil not and neither will we spin to any extent.” His voice is laconic and observant, often undercutting the committee’s grandiosity. The story moves between the committee meeting, the backstage preparations, and the performance itself, with each scene escalating the disorder. Recurring elements—the mule’s kick, the judge’s confusion, Dirty Shirt’s cynical asides—create a rhythm of anticipation and payoff. The structure mirrors a stage farce, with doors (curtains) and entrances leading to collisions and misunderstandings.

Readers should pay attention to the way Tuttle uses the mule as a comic device that resists human control, much like the pageant itself. The story’s humor depends on the gap between the committee’s lofty intentions and the messy reality of Piperock’s resources. Ike Harper’s narration provides a steady anchor amid the chaos, inviting readers to laugh at the characters’ earnest failures. The excerpts suggest a tight, farcical structure that rewards attention to recurring gags and verbal patterns.

I finished Wise Men and a Mule last week, and Ike’s dry voice stayed with me like an old friend’s chuckle. There’s something gentle about chaos failing gracefully, about people trying their best and the mule winning anyway. It made me think of The Ball of Fire — Reading Companion, which carries that same warm, forgiving ache. I keep turning both over, quietly.