Mister Badger And The New Neighbor

Mister Badger lived on a savanna in an apartment made of polystyrene. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover chicken chow mein, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

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

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" exploded Mister Badger grandly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a milkshake?"

"I can't stay," noted Mrs. Weasel. I just want to ask you what you think of the boar that's come to the savanna.

"I really don't know," mentioned Mister Badger. "I didn't know about any boar. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," squawked Mrs. Weasel hopefully. "I heard that this boar likes to protect pickles."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Weasel, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the savanna when we get a lot of boars protecting pickles?"

"I can't imagine," complained Mister Badger.

"What are we going to do about it?" preached Mrs. Weasel.

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

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

"Well that's a fine idea," breathed Mister Badger positively, 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. Weasel fiercely. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," interpreted Mister Badger violently, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the umbrella stand on his front porch, looking out over the savanna and jumping. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Weasel. Do come again."

"Just a minute," gasped Mrs. Weasel clumsily. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Badger sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied nicely.