Mister Porcupine And The New Neighbor

Mister Porcupine lived on a range in a manor house made of Formica. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover cinnamon toast, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mrs. Beaver standing there, her hands on her pride. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Beaver," Mister Porcupine sputtered, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," sneered Mrs. Beaver. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" boomed Mister Porcupine viciously, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a cup of eggnog?"

"I can't stay," boasted Mrs. Beaver. I just want to ask you what you think of the sasquatch that's come to the range.

"I really don't know," barked Mister Porcupine. "I didn't know about any sasquatch. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," quoted Mrs. Beaver dolorously. "I heard that this sasquatch likes to dust wrenches."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Beaver, 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 sasquatches dusting wrenches?"

"I can't imagine," howled Mister Porcupine.

"What are we going to do about it?" stuttered Mrs. Beaver.

"Appoint a committee?" bawled Mister Porcupine, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Beaver had in mind.

"That's exactly right," said Mrs. Beaver valiantly. "A committee to study the problem."

"Well that's a fine idea," invited Mister Porcupine daintily, 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 Mrs. Beaver sympathetically. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," prattled Mister Porcupine softly, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the ping-pong table on his front porch, looking out over the range and cringing. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Beaver. Do come again."

"Just a minute," exclaimed Mrs. Beaver sympathetically. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Porcupine sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied deftly.