Miss Dalmatian And The New Neighbor

Miss Dalmatian lived on a battlefield in a park bench made of moss. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover Swiss cheese, when she heard a knock at the door.

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

She was surprised to see Mrs. Nightingale standing there, her hands on her thyroid gland. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Nightingale," Miss Dalmatian moaned, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," suggested Mrs. Nightingale. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" decided Miss Dalmatian cautiously, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a margarita?"

"I can't stay," said Mrs. Nightingale. I just want to ask you what you think of the polar bear that's come to the battlefield.

"I really don't know," sniveled Miss Dalmatian. "I didn't know about any polar bear. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," voiced Mrs. Nightingale hysterically. "I heard that this polar bear likes to vacuum cans of soup."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Nightingale, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the battlefield when we get a lot of polar bears vacuuming cans of soup?"

"I can't imagine," inquired Miss Dalmatian.

"What are we going to do about it?" quoted Mrs. Nightingale.

"Appoint a committee?" urged Miss Dalmatian, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Nightingale had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," mentioned Miss Dalmatian confidently, 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 Mrs. Nightingale blankly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," shouted Miss Dalmatian primly, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the four-poster bed on her front porch, looking out over the battlefield and twitching. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Nightingale. Do come again."

"Just a minute," hollered Mrs. Nightingale slyly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Miss Dalmatian sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," she replied truculently.