Mister Pheasant And The New Neighbor

Mister Pheasant lived at a dump in a house made of money. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover sushi, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mister Weasel standing there, his hands on his bicep. "How nice to see you, Mister Weasel," Mister Pheasant added, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," intimated Mister Weasel. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" repeated Mister Pheasant humbly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a root beer?"

"I can't stay," yelled Mister Weasel. I just want to ask you what you think of the hyena that's come to the dump.

"I really don't know," panted Mister Pheasant. "I didn't know about any hyena. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," babbled Mister Weasel demurely. "I heard that this hyena likes to abuse piggy banks."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Weasel, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the dump when we get a lot of hyenas abusing piggy banks?"

"I can't imagine," said Mister Pheasant.

"What are we going to do about it?" sighed Mister Weasel.

"Appoint a committee?" disputed Mister Pheasant, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Weasel had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," recited Mister Pheasant mysteriously, 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 Weasel primly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," whined Mister Pheasant delicately, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the overstuffed chair on his front porch, looking out over the dump and looking angry. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Weasel. Do come again."

"Just a minute," muttered Mister Weasel woodenly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Pheasant sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied deftly.