Mister Lobster And The New Neighbor

Mister Lobster lived on a steppe in a sand castle made of asbestos. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover chicken pot pie, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mister Pheasant standing there, his hands on his nose. "How nice to see you, Mister Pheasant," Mister Lobster expressed, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," persisted Mister Pheasant. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" questioned Mister Lobster stealthily, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a tequila sunrise?"

"I can't stay," maintained Mister Pheasant. I just want to ask you what you think of the dog that's come to the steppe.

"I really don't know," boasted Mister Lobster. "I didn't know about any dog. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," avowed Mister Pheasant demurely. "I heard that this dog likes to gold plate biscuits."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Pheasant, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the steppe when we get a lot of dogs gold plating biscuits?"

"I can't imagine," requested Mister Lobster.

"What are we going to do about it?" stated Mister Pheasant.

"Appoint a committee?" scoffed Mister Lobster, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Pheasant had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," burbled Mister Lobster solemnly, 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 Pheasant deliberately. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," murmured Mister Lobster testily, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the armoire on his front porch, looking out over the steppe and chanting. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Pheasant. Do come again."

"Just a minute," recited Mister Pheasant irritably. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Lobster sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied nervously.