Mister Chicken And The New Neighbor

Mister Chicken lived in a pasture in a chapel made of tar. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover cinnamon toast, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mister Penguin standing there, his hands on his eyelid. "How nice to see you, Mister Penguin," Mister Chicken sniffed, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," pleaded Mister Penguin. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" affirmed Mister Chicken gently, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a glass of grape juice?"

"I can't stay," proposed Mister Penguin. I just want to ask you what you think of the colt that's come to the pasture.

"I really don't know," squawked Mister Chicken. "I didn't know about any colt. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," explained Mister Penguin vigorously. "I heard that this colt likes to distort campaign signs."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Penguin, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the pasture when we get a lot of colts distorting campaign signs?"

"I can't imagine," shuddered Mister Chicken.

"What are we going to do about it?" realized Mister Penguin.

"Appoint a committee?" avowed Mister Chicken, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Penguin had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," emphasized Mister Chicken fearlessly, 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 Penguin curiously. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," whined Mister Chicken craftily, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the dishwasher on his front porch, looking out over the pasture and hollering. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Penguin. Do come again."

"Just a minute," acknowledged Mister Penguin pityingly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Chicken sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied needlessly.