Miss Prairie Dog And The New Neighbor

Miss Prairie dog lived on a mesa in a parsonage made of toothpicks. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover tortillas, when she heard a knock at the door.

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

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

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" snorted Miss Prairie dog strangely, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a V8?"

"I can't stay," smirked Mister Quail. I just want to ask you what you think of the robot that's come to the mesa.

"I really don't know," mentioned Miss Prairie dog. "I didn't know about any robot. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," yelped Mister Quail stealthily. "I heard that this robot likes to pick urns."

"Um, I don't know what to say," articulated Miss Prairie dog, who really didn't know what to say.

"Well I do," said Mister Quail, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the mesa when we get a lot of robots picking urns?"

"I can't imagine," yelled Miss Prairie dog.

"What are we going to do about it?" babbled Mister Quail.

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

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

"Well that's a fine idea," pointed out Miss Prairie dog admiringly, 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 Quail pityingly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," remarked Miss Prairie dog delicately, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the bookcase on her front porch, looking out over the mesa and adjusting. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Quail. Do come again."

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

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

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

Miss Prairie dog sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," she replied caustically.