Mister Nightingale And The New Neighbor

Mister Nightingale lived on a cliff in a treehouse made of paper clips. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover refried beans, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mrs. Goat standing there, her hands on her spleen. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Goat," Mister Nightingale shuddered, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," acknowledged Mrs. Goat. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" pronounced Mister Nightingale effortlessly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a Long Island iced tea?"

"I can't stay," yowled Mrs. Goat. I just want to ask you what you think of the muskrat that's come to the cliff.

"I really don't know," avowed Mister Nightingale. "I didn't know about any muskrat. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," commented Mrs. Goat accidentally. "I heard that this muskrat likes to spin pieces of candy."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Goat, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the cliff when we get a lot of muskrats spinning pieces of candy?"

"I can't imagine," enunciated Mister Nightingale.

"What are we going to do about it?" spouted Mrs. Goat.

"Appoint a committee?" moaned Mister Nightingale, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Goat had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," mumbled Mister Nightingale suavely, 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. Goat gruffly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," answered Mister Nightingale speedily, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the computer on his front porch, looking out over the cliff and panting. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Goat. Do come again."

"Just a minute," preached Mrs. Goat warmly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Nightingale sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied threateningly.