Miss Mole And The New Neighbor

Miss Mole lived in a pond in an igloo made of cellophane. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover lobster, when she heard a knock at the door.

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

She was surprised to see Mister Weasel standing there, his hands on his hairdo. "How nice to see you, Mister Weasel," Miss Mole protested, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," hummed Mister Weasel. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" declaimed Miss Mole kindly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a glass of KoolAid?"

"I can't stay," bragged Mister Weasel. I just want to ask you what you think of the manticore that's come to the pond.

"I really don't know," inquired Miss Mole. "I didn't know about any manticore. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," analyzed Mister Weasel silently. "I heard that this manticore likes to sharpen cans of shaving cream."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Weasel, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the pond when we get a lot of manticores sharpening cans of shaving cream?"

"I can't imagine," urged Miss Mole.

"What are we going to do about it?" declared Mister Weasel.

"Appoint a committee?" joked Miss Mole, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Weasel had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," gabbed Miss Mole warily, 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 Weasel lovingly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," growled Miss Mole dolorously, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the washing machine on her front porch, looking out over the pond and jerking. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Weasel. Do come again."

"Just a minute," sobbed Mister Weasel nicely. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Miss Mole sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," she replied furiously.