Mister Weasel And The New Neighbor

Mister Weasel lived in a landfill in a motor home made of concrete. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover fried okra, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mrs. Beetle standing there, her hands on her shin. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Beetle," Mister Weasel decided, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," emphasized Mrs. Beetle. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" winked Mister Weasel recklessly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a V8?"

"I can't stay," pronounced Mrs. Beetle. I just want to ask you what you think of the polar bear that's come to the landfill.

"I really don't know," rationalized Mister Weasel. "I didn't know about any polar bear. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," pleaded Mrs. Beetle solemnly. "I heard that this polar bear likes to shorten fountain pens."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Beetle, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the landfill when we get a lot of polar bears shortening fountain pens?"

"I can't imagine," chuckled Mister Weasel.

"What are we going to do about it?" fumed Mrs. Beetle.

"Appoint a committee?" mouthed Mister Weasel, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Beetle had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," raved Mister Weasel brashly, 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. Beetle flightily. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," mouthed Mister Weasel stealthily, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the hamper on his front porch, looking out over the landfill and wincing. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Beetle. Do come again."

"Just a minute," peeped Mrs. Beetle rapidly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Weasel sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied craftily.