Miss Bull And The New Neighbor

Miss Bull lived on a cliff in a subway tunnel made of cornhusks. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover ham, when she heard a knock at the door.

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

She was surprised to see Mister Beaver standing there, his hands on his wig. "How nice to see you, Mister Beaver," Miss Bull simpered, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," spewed Mister Beaver. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" voiced Miss Bull offhandedly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a glass of orange juice?"

"I can't stay," whimpered Mister Beaver. I just want to ask you what you think of the flea that's come to the cliff.

"I really don't know," admitted Miss Bull. "I didn't know about any flea. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," snorted Mister Beaver grandly. "I heard that this flea likes to package coffee pots."

"Um, I don't know what to say," questioned Miss Bull, 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 cliff when we get a lot of fleas packaging coffee pots?"

"I can't imagine," pronounced Miss Bull.

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

"Appoint a committee?" spewed Miss Bull, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Beaver had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," analyzed Miss Bull unexpectedly, 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 Beaver tearfully. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," vowed Miss Bull temperamentally, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the sofa on her front porch, looking out over the cliff and begging. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Beaver. Do come again."

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

Miss Bull thought she had answered, and was beginning to get obnoxious. "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?"

Miss Bull sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," she replied warmly.