Mister Beetle And The New Neighbor

Mister Beetle lived in a housing development in a crypt made of old rags. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover borscht, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mister Buzzard standing there, his hands on his eyelid. "How nice to see you, Mister Buzzard," Mister Beetle piped up, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," retorted Mister Buzzard. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" inquired Mister Beetle brightly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a bottle of rum?"

"I can't stay," bellowed Mister Buzzard. I just want to ask you what you think of the bumblebee that's come to the housing development.

"I really don't know," brought up Mister Beetle. "I didn't know about any bumblebee. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," acknowledged Mister Buzzard deftly. "I heard that this bumblebee likes to prod staplers."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Buzzard, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the housing development when we get a lot of bumblebees prodding staplers?"

"I can't imagine," groveled Mister Beetle.

"What are we going to do about it?" yammered Mister Buzzard.

"Appoint a committee?" revealed Mister Beetle, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Buzzard had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," answered Mister Beetle brashly, 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 Buzzard joyously. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," groveled Mister Beetle effortlessly, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the table on his front porch, looking out over the housing development and screeching. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Buzzard. Do come again."

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

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

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

Mister Beetle sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied excitedly.