Mister Falcon And The New Neighbor

Mister Falcon lived in a meadow in a dugout made of feathers. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover prune pudding, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mrs. Baboon standing there, her hands on her liver. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Baboon," Mister Falcon smiled, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," judged Mrs. Baboon. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" emphasized Mister Falcon daintily, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a Pepto Bismol?"

"I can't stay," laughed Mrs. Baboon. I just want to ask you what you think of the bandicoot that's come to the meadow.

"I really don't know," snorted Mister Falcon. "I didn't know about any bandicoot. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," observed Mrs. Baboon gently. "I heard that this bandicoot likes to throw dictionaries."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Baboon, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the meadow when we get a lot of bandicoots throwing dictionaries?"

"I can't imagine," appealed Mister Falcon.

"What are we going to do about it?" yowled Mrs. Baboon.

"Appoint a committee?" intimated Mister Falcon, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Baboon had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," fumed Mister Falcon busily, 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. Baboon stupidly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," screamed Mister Falcon hastily, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the floor on his front porch, looking out over the meadow and exhaling. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Baboon. Do come again."

"Just a minute," uttered Mrs. Baboon energetically. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Falcon sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied brashly.