Mister Flea And The New Neighbor

Mister Flea lived alongside a stream in a Cape Cod made of papier-mâché. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover fish and chips, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mister Ass standing there, his hands on his femur. "How nice to see you, Mister Ass," Mister Flea responded, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," revealed Mister Ass. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" realized Mister Flea menacingly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a glass of apple juice?"

"I can't stay," piped up Mister Ass. I just want to ask you what you think of the quail that's come to the stream.

"I really don't know," admitted Mister Flea. "I didn't know about any quail. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," snarled Mister Ass coldly. "I heard that this quail likes to hurl paintbrushes."

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

"Well I do," said Mister Ass, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the stream when we get a lot of quails hurling paintbrushes?"

"I can't imagine," boomed Mister Flea.

"What are we going to do about it?" continued Mister Ass.

"Appoint a committee?" provoked Mister Flea, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Ass had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," announced Mister Flea quietly, 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 Ass warmly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," blathered Mister Flea blissfully, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the table on his front porch, looking out over the stream and primping. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Ass. Do come again."

"Just a minute," yawned Mister Ass gracefully. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Flea sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied trustingly.