Mister Lobster And The New Neighbor

Mister Lobster lived in a landfill in a Victorian mansion made of gingerbread. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover candy, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mrs. Doberman standing there, her hands on her horn. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Doberman," Mister Lobster contended, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," sighed Mrs. Doberman. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" acknowledged Mister Lobster shyly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a glass of grape juice?"

"I can't stay," babbled Mrs. Doberman. I just want to ask you what you think of the gnu that's come to the landfill.

"I really don't know," rumored Mister Lobster. "I didn't know about any gnu. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," urged Mrs. Doberman daintily. "I heard that this gnu likes to fabricate cages."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Doberman, 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 gnus fabricating cages?"

"I can't imagine," voiced Mister Lobster.

"What are we going to do about it?" muttered Mrs. Doberman.

"Appoint a committee?" retorted Mister Lobster, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Doberman had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," bawled Mister Lobster dreamily, 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. Doberman neatly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," howled Mister Lobster offhandedly, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the water bed on his front porch, looking out over the landfill and swallowing. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Doberman. Do come again."

"Just a minute," preached Mrs. Doberman crazily. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Lobster sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied awkwardly.