Mister Crab And The New Neighbor

Mister Crab lived in a bog in a resort made of antimatter. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover lobster bisque, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mister Macaque standing there, his hands on his intestine. "How nice to see you, Mister Macaque," Mister Crab belched, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," quavered Mister Macaque. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" intimated Mister Crab solemnly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a dose of cod liver oil?"

"I can't stay," retorted Mister Macaque. I just want to ask you what you think of the puppy that's come to the bog.

"I really don't know," asked Mister Crab. "I didn't know about any puppy. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," mused Mister Macaque woefully. "I heard that this puppy likes to pummel pickles."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Macaque, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the bog when we get a lot of puppies pummeling pickles?"

"I can't imagine," quoted Mister Crab.

"What are we going to do about it?" decided Mister Macaque.

"Appoint a committee?" urged Mister Crab, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Macaque had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," chanted Mister Crab cautiously, 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 Mister Macaque warmly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," chimed Mister Crab ignobly, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the card table on his front porch, looking out over the bog and clapping. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Macaque. Do come again."

"Just a minute," taunted Mister Macaque breathlessly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Crab sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied queerly.