Mister Squirrel And The New Neighbor

Mister Squirrel lived in a country meadow in a geodesic dome made of fiberglass. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover fish and chips, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mister Mustang standing there, his hands on his collarbone. "How nice to see you, Mister Mustang," Mister Squirrel indicated, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," mumbled Mister Mustang. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" stated Mister Squirrel tenderly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a glass of iced tea?"

"I can't stay," said Mister Mustang. I just want to ask you what you think of the beetle that's come to the country meadow.

"I really don't know," piped up Mister Squirrel. "I didn't know about any beetle. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," professed Mister Mustang lamely. "I heard that this beetle likes to whirl bottles of painkillers."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Mustang, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the country meadow when we get a lot of beetles whirling bottles of painkillers?"

"I can't imagine," sniped Mister Squirrel.

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

"Appoint a committee?" gabbed Mister Squirrel, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Mustang had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," ranted Mister Squirrel smoothly, 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 Mustang breathlessly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," prattled Mister Squirrel queerly, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the hope chest on his front porch, looking out over the country meadow and stretching. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Mustang. Do come again."

"Just a minute," maintained Mister Mustang caustically. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Squirrel sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied crazily.