Mister Colt And The New Neighbor

Mister Colt lived on a steppe in a motel made of seashells. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover ramen noodles, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mrs. Beaver standing there, her hands on her eye. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Beaver," Mister Colt winked, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," breathed Mrs. Beaver. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" lamented Mister Colt patiently, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a Jack Daniel's?"

"I can't stay," moaned Mrs. Beaver. I just want to ask you what you think of the llama that's come to the steppe.

"I really don't know," chimed Mister Colt. "I didn't know about any llama. I'm sure she is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," said Mrs. Beaver dubiously. "I heard that this llama likes to develop sea shells."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Beaver, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the steppe when we get a lot of llamas developing sea shells?"

"I can't imagine," rambled Mister Colt.

"What are we going to do about it?" chattered Mrs. Beaver.

"Appoint a committee?" reminded Mister Colt, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Beaver had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," spat Mister Colt tearfully, 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. Beaver peevishly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," yelped Mister Colt roughly, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the display case on his front porch, looking out over the steppe and frowning. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Beaver. Do come again."

"Just a minute," sputtered Mrs. Beaver kindly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Colt sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied roughly.