Miss Weasel And The New Neighbor

Miss Weasel lived in a cornfield in a monastery made of seashells. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover wienerschnitzel, when she heard a knock at the door.

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

She was surprised to see Mrs. Buzzard standing there, her hands on her spinal cord. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Buzzard," Miss Weasel burbled, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," persisted Mrs. Buzzard. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" opined Miss Weasel tensely, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a Brandy Alexander?"

"I can't stay," said Mrs. Buzzard. I just want to ask you what you think of the lovebird that's come to the cornfield.

"I really don't know," blathered Miss Weasel. "I didn't know about any lovebird. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," pronounced Mrs. Buzzard tearfully. "I heard that this lovebird likes to destroy whoopee cushions."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Buzzard, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the cornfield when we get a lot of lovebirds destroying whoopee cushions?"

"I can't imagine," spewed Miss Weasel.

"What are we going to do about it?" preached Mrs. Buzzard.

"Appoint a committee?" vowed Miss Weasel, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Buzzard had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," began Miss Weasel madly, 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. Buzzard crossly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," imitated Miss Weasel perkily, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the bed on her front porch, looking out over the cornfield and breathing. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Buzzard. Do come again."

"Just a minute," gasped Mrs. Buzzard kindly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Miss Weasel sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," she replied boldly.