Mister Wallaby And The New Neighbor

Mister Wallaby lived in a cave in a treehouse made of foam. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover Swiss cheese, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mister Rooster standing there, his hands on his pancreas. "How nice to see you, Mister Rooster," Mister Wallaby murmured, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," piped up Mister Rooster. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" ranted Mister Wallaby haughtily, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a glass of water?"

"I can't stay," declaimed Mister Rooster. I just want to ask you what you think of the fish that's come to the cave.

"I really don't know," demanded Mister Wallaby. "I didn't know about any fish. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," jeered Mister Rooster crazily. "I heard that this fish likes to categorize curling irons."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Rooster, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the cave when we get a lot of fish categorizing curling irons?"

"I can't imagine," scoffed Mister Wallaby.

"What are we going to do about it?" griped Mister Rooster.

"Appoint a committee?" remarked Mister Wallaby, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Rooster had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," fretted Mister Wallaby fondly, 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 Rooster gratefully. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," winked Mister Wallaby unabashedly, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the bed on his front porch, looking out over the cave and gesticulating. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Rooster. Do come again."

"Just a minute," complained Mister Rooster courageously. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Wallaby sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied fervently.