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Miss Chicken And The New Neighbor


Miss Chicken lived on the mountainside in a Victorian mansion made of Portland cement. One morning, she had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover Hamburger Helper, when she heard a knock at the door.

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


She was surprised to see Mister Oyster standing there, his hands on his chest. "How nice to see you, Mister Oyster," Miss Chicken lamented, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," taunted Mister Oyster. "May I come in?"

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

"I can't stay," brought up Mister Oyster. I just want to ask you what you think of the goose that's come to the mountainside.


"I really don't know," drawled Miss Chicken. "I didn't know about any goose. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," answered Mister Oyster jokingly. "I heard that this goose likes to stain packs of gum."

"Um, I don't know what to say," exclaimed Miss Chicken, who really didn't know what to say.

"Well I do," said Mister Oyster, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the mountainside when we get a lot of geese staining packs of gum?"

"I can't imagine," quoted Miss Chicken.

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

"Appoint a committee?" debated Miss Chicken, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Oyster had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," fantasized Miss Chicken glumly, 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 Oyster demurely. "You always have such good ideas."

beanbag chair

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," revealed Miss Chicken boldly, thinking of all the time she'd prefer to be sitting on the beanbag chair on her front porch, looking out over the mountainside and showing up. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Oyster. Do come again."

"Just a minute," peeped Mister Oyster steadily. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Miss Chicken sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," she replied breathlessly.