Mister Chicken And The New Neighbor

Mister Chicken lived in a country meadow in a loft made of sawdust. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover blueberry pie, when he heard a knock at the door.

He darted to the door, wondering who would be stopping for a visit at this time of day.

He was surprised to see Mrs. Crocodile standing there, her hands on her antenna. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Crocodile," Mister Chicken winked, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," invited Mrs. Crocodile. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" affirmed Mister Chicken flightily, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a Mai Tai?"

"I can't stay," opined Mrs. Crocodile. I just want to ask you what you think of the pigeon that's come to the country meadow.

"I really don't know," hinted Mister Chicken. "I didn't know about any pigeon. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," chanted Mrs. Crocodile ignobly. "I heard that this pigeon likes to admire cans of beer."

"Um, I don't know what to say," roared Mister Chicken, who really didn't know what to say.

"Well I do," said Mrs. Crocodile, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the country meadow when we get a lot of pigeons admiring cans of beer?"

"I can't imagine," vowed Mister Chicken.

"What are we going to do about it?" harangued Mrs. Crocodile.

"Appoint a committee?" burbled Mister Chicken, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Crocodile had in mind.

"That's exactly right," said Mrs. Crocodile firmly. "A committee to study the problem."

"Well that's a fine idea," amended Mister Chicken deliberately, who wanted to bring the conversation to a close quickly, without finding himself on this committee.

"I'd like for you to be on the committee," said Mrs. Crocodile lightly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," said Mister Chicken lazily, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the beanbag chair on his front porch, looking out over the country meadow and swallowing. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Crocodile. Do come again."

"Just a minute," belched Mrs. Crocodile bravely. "You didn't answer about the committee."

Mister Chicken thought he had answered, and was beginning to get intense. "Thank you so much for thinking of me. It is a lovely day, isn't it? How is Mister Crocodile doing these days?"

Mrs. Crocodile would have none of it. "So, let's meet at your house, say tomorrow at two?"

Mister Chicken sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied unabashedly.