Mister Quail And The New Neighbor

Mister Quail lived in a pond in a houseboat made of rolled oats. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover lobster bisque, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mister Beaver standing there, his hands on his belly button. "How nice to see you, Mister Beaver," Mister Quail indicated, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," barked Mister Beaver. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" burbled Mister Quail uneasily, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a mint julep?"

"I can't stay," chimed Mister Beaver. I just want to ask you what you think of the turtle that's come to the pond.

"I really don't know," breathed Mister Quail. "I didn't know about any turtle. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," accused Mister Beaver elatedly. "I heard that this turtle likes to squash soccer balls."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Beaver, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the pond when we get a lot of turtles squashing soccer balls?"

"I can't imagine," exclaimed Mister Quail.

"What are we going to do about it?" interrupted Mister Beaver.

"Appoint a committee?" preached Mister Quail, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Beaver had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," retorted Mister Quail thankfully, 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 Beaver sternly. "You always have such good ideas."

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

"Just a minute," prattled Mister Beaver properly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Quail sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied silently.