Miss Donkey And The New Neighbor

Miss Donkey lived in a marsh in a spa made of garbage. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover oatmeal, when she heard a knock at the door.

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

She was surprised to see Mister Weasel standing there, his hands on his bladder. "How nice to see you, Mister Weasel," Miss Donkey interpreted, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," crooned Mister Weasel. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" amended Miss Donkey frantically, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a glass of papaya juice?"

"I can't stay," orated Mister Weasel. I just want to ask you what you think of the shark that's come to the marsh.

"I really don't know," reminded Miss Donkey. "I didn't know about any shark. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," explained Mister Weasel neatly. "I heard that this shark likes to wrap balls."

"Um, I don't know what to say," prattled Miss Donkey, 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 marsh when we get a lot of sharks wrapping balls?"

"I can't imagine," commented Miss Donkey.

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

"Appoint a committee?" laughed Miss Donkey, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Weasel had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," stammered Miss Donkey vigorously, 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 Mister Weasel gingerly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," blathered Miss Donkey strictly, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the TV on her front porch, looking out over the marsh and dying. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Weasel. Do come again."

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

Miss Donkey thought she had answered, and was beginning to get precocious. "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?"

Miss Donkey sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," she replied primly.