Mister Butterfly And The New Neighbor

Mister Butterfly lived on a range in a barracks made of sheet metal. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover ramen noodles, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mister Wombat standing there, his hands on his vein. "How nice to see you, Mister Wombat," Mister Butterfly grieved, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," gabbed Mister Wombat. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" asked Mister Butterfly noisily, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a Shirley Temple?"

"I can't stay," whimpered Mister Wombat. I just want to ask you what you think of the lovebird that's come to the range.

"I really don't know," sniveled Mister Butterfly. "I didn't know about any lovebird. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," lectured Mister Wombat shyly. "I heard that this lovebird likes to soak Big Gulps."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Wombat, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the range when we get a lot of lovebirds soaking Big Gulps?"

"I can't imagine," recited Mister Butterfly.

"What are we going to do about it?" realized Mister Wombat.

"Appoint a committee?" hissed Mister Butterfly, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Wombat had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," acknowledged Mister Butterfly courteously, 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 Wombat furiously. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," retorted Mister Butterfly confidently, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the wooden crate on his front porch, looking out over the range and wandering. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Wombat. Do come again."

"Just a minute," sputtered Mister Wombat wearily. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Butterfly sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied viciously.