Miss Weasel And The New Neighbor

Miss Weasel lived on a battlefield in a penthouse made of Formica. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover burritos, when she heard a knock at the door.

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

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

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" insisted Miss Weasel repeatedly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a martini?"

"I can't stay," screeched Mister Prairie dog. I just want to ask you what you think of the anteater that's come to the battlefield.

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

"Well don't be so sure," appealed Mister Prairie dog greedily. "I heard that this anteater likes to photograph cigarettes."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Prairie dog, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the battlefield when we get a lot of anteaters photographing cigarettes?"

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

"What are we going to do about it?" grieved Mister Prairie dog.

"Appoint a committee?" retorted Miss Weasel, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Prairie dog had in mind.

"That's exactly right," said Mister Prairie dog victoriously. "A committee to study the problem."

"Well that's a fine idea," emphasized Miss Weasel lazily, 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 Prairie dog sagely. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," burbled Miss Weasel gingerly, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the overstuffed chair on her front porch, looking out over the battlefield and cogitating. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Prairie dog. Do come again."

"Just a minute," mouthed Mister Prairie dog grandly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

Mister Prairie dog 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 needlessly.