Mister Pigeon And The New Neighbor

Mister Pigeon lived on a hill in a hut made of linoleum. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover cherries jubilee, when he heard a knock at the door.

He jumped 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 aorta. "How nice to see you, Mister Wombat," Mister Pigeon debated, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," declaimed Mister Wombat. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" chanted Mister Pigeon lickety-split, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a Cuba libre?"

"I can't stay," informed Mister Wombat. I just want to ask you what you think of the buzzard that's come to the hill.

"I really don't know," reacted Mister Pigeon. "I didn't know about any buzzard. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," queried Mister Wombat sorrowfully. "I heard that this buzzard likes to destroy African violets."

"Um, I don't know what to say," opined Mister Pigeon, 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 hill when we get a lot of buzzards destroying African violets?"

"I can't imagine," cackled Mister Pigeon.

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

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

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

"Well that's a fine idea," chortled Mister Pigeon lickety-split, 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 frenetically. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," barked Mister Pigeon suspiciously, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the dresser on his front porch, looking out over the hill and playing Duck Duck Goose. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Wombat. Do come again."

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

Mister Pigeon thought he had answered, and was beginning to get dreadful. "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 Pigeon sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied grudgingly.