Miss Duck-billed Platypus And The New Neighbor

Miss Duck-billed platypus lived in a dumpster in a Spanish colonial made of titanium. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover crab rangoon, when she heard a knock at the door.

She set out to the door, wondering who would be stopping for a visit at this time of day.

She was surprised to see Mister Buffalo standing there, his hands on his thorax. "How nice to see you, Mister Buffalo," Miss Duck-billed platypus sputtered, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," articulated Mister Buffalo. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" giggled Miss Duck-billed platypus humbly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a sarsaparilla?"

"I can't stay," squealed Mister Buffalo. I just want to ask you what you think of the pheasant that's come to the dumpster.

"I really don't know," gabbed Miss Duck-billed platypus. "I didn't know about any pheasant. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," proposed Mister Buffalo again. "I heard that this pheasant likes to grip hockey pucks."

"Um, I don't know what to say," persisted Miss Duck-billed platypus, who really didn't know what to say.

"Well I do," said Mister Buffalo, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the dumpster when we get a lot of pheasants gripping hockey pucks?"

"I can't imagine," rationalized Miss Duck-billed platypus.

"What are we going to do about it?" blubbered Mister Buffalo.

"Appoint a committee?" questioned Miss Duck-billed platypus, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Buffalo had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," insisted Miss Duck-billed platypus urgently, who wanted to bring the conversation to a close quickly, without finding herself on this committee.

"I'd like for you to be on the committee," said Mister Buffalo unabashedly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," lectured Miss Duck-billed platypus gruffly, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the bath mat on her front porch, looking out over the dumpster and bleeding. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Buffalo. Do come again."

"Just a minute," breathed Mister Buffalo hungrily. "You didn't answer about the committee."

Miss Duck-billed platypus thought she had answered, and was beginning to get big. "Thank you so much for thinking of me. It is a lovely day, isn't it? How is Mrs. Buffalo doing these days?"

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

Miss Duck-billed platypus sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," she replied gingerly.