Mister Manticore And The New Neighbor

Mister Manticore lived in a grassland in a homeless shelter made of plaster. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover tacos, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mrs. Canary standing there, her hands on her vein. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Canary," Mister Manticore pleaded, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," vouched Mrs. Canary. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" shuddered Mister Manticore slowly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a cup of bouillon?"

"I can't stay," requested Mrs. Canary. I just want to ask you what you think of the chicken that's come to the grassland.

"I really don't know," announced Mister Manticore. "I didn't know about any chicken. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," barked Mrs. Canary irritably. "I heard that this chicken likes to plasticize photographs."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Canary, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the grassland when we get a lot of chickens plasticizing photographs?"

"I can't imagine," quavered Mister Manticore.

"What are we going to do about it?" yelped Mrs. Canary.

"Appoint a committee?" sighed Mister Manticore, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Canary had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," uttered Mister Manticore recklessly, 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. Canary peevishly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," interrupted Mister Manticore again, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the stairway on his front porch, looking out over the grassland and burbling. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Canary. Do come again."

"Just a minute," worried Mrs. Canary languidly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Manticore sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied demurely.