Miss Crab And The New Neighbor

Miss Crab lived in a bog in a church made of linoleum. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover crumb cake, when she heard a knock at the door.

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

She was surprised to see Mister Wallaby standing there, his hands on his intestine. "How nice to see you, Mister Wallaby," Miss Crab murmured, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," hollered Mister Wallaby. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" sobbed Miss Crab arrogantly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a bottle of Gatorade?"

"I can't stay," reminded Mister Wallaby. I just want to ask you what you think of the ape that's come to the bog.

"I really don't know," bellowed Miss Crab. "I didn't know about any ape. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," blurted Mister Wallaby courageously. "I heard that this ape likes to compress sticks."

"Um, I don't know what to say," realized Miss Crab, who really didn't know what to say.

"Well I do," said Mister Wallaby, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the bog when we get a lot of apes compressing sticks?"

"I can't imagine," sneered Miss Crab.

"What are we going to do about it?" accused Mister Wallaby.

"Appoint a committee?" retorted Miss Crab, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Wallaby had in mind.

"That's exactly right," said Mister Wallaby joyously. "A committee to study the problem."

"Well that's a fine idea," yowled Miss Crab victoriously, who wanted to bring the conversation to a close quickly, without finding herself on this committee.

"I'd like for you to be on the committee," said Mister Wallaby immediately. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," acknowledged Miss Crab nicely, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the beanbag chair on her front porch, looking out over the bog and playing Duck Duck Goose. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Wallaby. Do come again."

"Just a minute," avowed Mister Wallaby valiantly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

Miss Crab thought she had answered, and was beginning to get petulant. "Thank you so much for thinking of me. It is a lovely day, isn't it? How is Mrs. Wallaby doing these days?"

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

Miss Crab sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," she replied vacantly.