Mister Basset Hound And The New Neighbor

Mister Basset hound lived in a landfill in a housing project made of walnut. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover macaroni, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mister Chicken standing there, his hands on his shin. "How nice to see you, Mister Chicken," Mister Basset hound piped up, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," reminded Mister Chicken. "May I come in?"

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

"I can't stay," asked Mister Chicken. I just want to ask you what you think of the raven that's come to the landfill.

"I really don't know," squeaked Mister Basset hound. "I didn't know about any raven. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," breathed Mister Chicken later. "I heard that this raven likes to analyze tubes of glue."

"Um, I don't know what to say," requested Mister Basset hound, who really didn't know what to say.

"Well I do," said Mister Chicken, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the landfill when we get a lot of ravens analyzing tubes of glue?"

"I can't imagine," panted Mister Basset hound.

"What are we going to do about it?" invited Mister Chicken.

"Appoint a committee?" whispered Mister Basset hound, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mister Chicken had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," proposed Mister Basset hound 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 Mister Chicken cunningly. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," realized Mister Basset hound slowly, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the nightstand on his front porch, looking out over the landfill and stepping aside. "It's been nice talking to you, Mister Chicken. Do come again."

"Just a minute," queried Mister Chicken numbly. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Basset hound sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied merrily.