Mister Worm And The New Neighbor

Mister Worm lived in a countryside in a flat made of drywall. One morning, he had just finished breakfast and was putting away the leftover fondue, when he heard a knock at the door.

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

He was surprised to see Mrs. Dachshund standing there, her hands on her paw. "How nice to see you, Mrs. Dachshund," Mister Worm indicated, not at all sure it was indeed nice. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure," orated Mrs. Dachshund. "May I come in?"

"Oh, I'm forgetting my manners!" grieved Mister Worm gruffly, opening the door wide. "Please come in. Can I get you a glass of apricot juice?"

"I can't stay," demanded Mrs. Dachshund. I just want to ask you what you think of the zebra that's come to the countryside.

"I really don't know," suggested Mister Worm. "I didn't know about any zebra. I'm sure he is very nice."

"Well don't be so sure," screeched Mrs. Dachshund gently. "I heard that this zebra likes to shellac oranges."

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

"Well I do," said Mrs. Dachshund, who always seemed to know what to say. "What do you think is going to happen to the countryside when we get a lot of zebras shellacking oranges?"

"I can't imagine," demanded Mister Worm.

"What are we going to do about it?" sniveled Mrs. Dachshund.

"Appoint a committee?" agreed Mister Worm, who was pretty sure a committee was what Mrs. Dachshund had in mind.

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

"Well that's a fine idea," panted Mister Worm lovingly, 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. Dachshund fervently. "You always have such good ideas."

"Oh, I don't think I'd have time for that," observed Mister Worm crossly, thinking of all the time he'd prefer to be sitting on the bed on his front porch, looking out over the countryside and chuckling. "It's been nice talking to you, Mrs. Dachshund. Do come again."

"Just a minute," mumbled Mrs. Dachshund mysteriously. "You didn't answer about the committee."

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

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

Mister Worm sighed. "Tomorrow at two it is," he replied miserably.