Mister Weasel And The New Neighbor

Mister Weasel lived in a glen in an igloo made of porcelain. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover hors d'oeuvre, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mrs. Baboon standing there, her hands on her hair. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Baboon," Mister Weasel explained, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," voiced Mrs. Baboon. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" declaimed Mister Weasel speedily, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a beer?"

"I can't stay," recited Mrs. Baboon. I just want to ask you what you think of the oyster that's come to the glen.

"I really don't know," interpreted Mister Weasel. "I didn't know about any oyster. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," hissed Mrs. Baboon later. "I heard that this oyster likes to face crackers."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Baboon, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the glen when we get a lot of oysters facing crackers?"

"I can't imagine," preached Mister Weasel.

"What are we going to do about it?" chattered Mrs. Baboon.

"Appoint a committee?" maintained Mister Weasel, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Baboon had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," mused Mister Weasel nonchalantly, 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. Baboon sarcastically. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," explained Mister Weasel sleepily, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the end table on his front porch, looking out over the glen and gazing. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Baboon. Do come again."

"Just a minute," declared Mrs. Baboon hopelessly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Weasel sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied neatly.