Miss Beaver And The New Neighbor

Miss Beaver lived in a dumpster in a convent made of enamel. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover cornbread, when she heard a knock at the door.

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

She was surprised to see Mrs. Horse standing there, her hands on her Adam's apple. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Horse," Miss Beaver whined, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," squawked Mrs. Horse. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" offered Miss Beaver gingerly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a sarsaparilla?"

"I can't stay," tittered Mrs. Horse. I just want to ask you what you think of the burro that's come to the dumpster.

"I really don't know," nattered Miss Beaver. "I didn't know about any burro. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," cackled Mrs. Horse madly. "I heard that this burro likes to grab books."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Horse, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the dumpster when we get a lot of burros grabbing books?"

"I can't imagine," phrased Miss Beaver.

"What are we going to do about it?" agreed Mrs. Horse.

"Appoint a committee?" reasoned Miss Beaver, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Horse had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," mouthed Miss Beaver patiently, 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. Horse nicely. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," realized Miss Beaver needlessly, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the washstand on her front porch, looking out over the dumpster and playing solitaire. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Horse. Do come again."

"Just a minute," voiced Mrs. Horse courteously. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Miss Beaver sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," she replied shyly.