CROW: You feeling the X-I-tement yet?
> SILLY MRS. HEN
TOM: It's not 'nine, ten, silly Mrs Hen'?
> Strange to say,
JOEL: I don't know, is it *that* strange?
> Grumpy Weasel was trying to be
JOEL: OK, you got me.
> Of course he didn't really know how,
CROW: Sounds like Grumpy needs to watch a Centron short.
> for he always
> practiced being surly and rude.
TOM: And he's almost got it right!
> It must be confessed, too,
> that he had succeeded in making himself heartily disliked by
> everybody that knew him.
CROW: Really? How so?
> There were a few, however, who had yet to learn of
> Grumpy Weasel's bad traits.
TOM: Because they never happened to be near a wall or a pond or a bush or anything.
> Among these was a foolish, fat
> hen who lived in Farmer Green's henhouse.
CROW: [ As Foghorn Leghorn ] '*HEN*house, I say!'
> And now Grumpy
> Weasel was doing his best to make a good impression on her.
TOM: By throwing rocks at her.
> It is no wonder, perhaps, that this lady was unaware
> of her caller's real nature.
JOEL: The call is coming from inside the weasel!
> For Grumpy was careful,
CROW: He always kept three points of contact with the ladder.
> as a
> rule, to visit the farmyard only after dark.
TOM: [ Sultry sax music ] Bwaa-bwaaa-bwa-bwa-BWAAAAAA-BWAAAAAAAH
> And being a
> person of quiet habits Mrs. Hen was always abed and asleep at
> that time.
JOEL: [ As Mrs Hen ] 'I have my half-cup of lukewarm herbal tea (half a sugar cube) and think about an unsalted Saltine and set my hand on a book of good nutritional advice and that's enough fun for me.'
> Grumpy found it a bit difficult to chat with Mrs. Hen
CROW: But they have so much in common!
> because old dog Spot was sprawled on the farmhouse steps;
JOEL: We don't truck with that New Dog Spot.
> naturally Grumpy felt like keeping one eye on him.
TOM: One eye on the dog, one eye on his wall, you're spreading yourself kind of thin, Grumpy.
> But the
> other he turned, as well as he could, on Mrs. Hen, who was in
> the henyard looking for worms.
CROW: And not centipedes, or as she call them, 'spicy worms'.
> Just outside the wire fence
TOM: Some look at the yard and ask, 'wire fence?' I look at the yard and ask, 'why aren't fence?'
> Grumpy Weasel crouched and told Mrs. Hen how well she was
JOEL: Oh, she is, she's an expert at looking by now.
> His pretty speeches pleased Mrs. Hen so much that she
> actually let a fat angleworm get away from her
TOM: [ Gasping ] Grumpy's on the payroll of Big Angleworm!
> because she
> hadn't her mind on what she was doing.
CROW: Oh no, they're going to bring this up at the next henhouse scrum.
> She noticed meanwhile
> that one of her neighbors was making frantic motions,
TOM: [ As Mrs Hen ] 'Gracious, might you be one of those hot-cha-cha dancers I hear so much about?'
> as if
> she had something important to say.
JOEL: o/` But Mrs Hen will never speak, unless she has something to say ... o/`
> So Mrs. Hen sauntered
> across the henyard to find out what it was.
> "Don't you know whom you're talking to?" the neighbor
> demanded in a loud whisper. "That's Grumpy Weasel
CROW: [ As Mrs Hen ] 'Oh ... well, what's his middle name?'
JOEL: [ As Neighbor ] 'Cruel Bastard'
CROW: [ As Mrs Hen ] 'I can change him.'
> ---the worst
> rascal in all these parts."
TOM: Sure but isn't the *worst* rascal actually the *most* upstanding person?
> Somehow that sent a pleasant flutter of excitement
> through Mrs. Hen.
JOEL: [ As Mrs Hen ] 'Am I what they call a woman of scandal now? Oh jeepers!'
> At the same time she couldn't quite believe
> the news, because her caller had said such very pleasant
TOM: He's just copying the stuff from Tom and Jerry cartoons where they're trying to romance that little pink cat.
> "Don't worry!" she told her neighbor. "I'm old enough
> to look out for myself."
CROW: I thought you were looking out for angleworms?
JOEL: Mrs Hen knows the angles.
> "I should say so!" her neighbor cried.
TOM: Please do, then.
JOEL: [ As Mrs Hen ] 'So.'
TOM: Thank you.
> "You're three
> years old if you're a day!"
> "I'm not!" Mrs. Hen retorted.
CROW: [ As Mrs Hen ] 'I'm not a day! I'm a hen! Didn't you know?'
> "I'm only two and a
TOM: Red Skelton's Mean Widdle Kid suddenly feels old.
> Her feathers were all ruffled up
CROW: Oh, she's going for a biker chick look.
> and she went straight
> back and told Grumpy Weasel what her neighbor had said about
JOEL: Does her neighbor have a name, a species, an anything?
CROW: Jimmy's Brother!
> > "You don't believe that, I hope," Grumpy ventured.
TOM: Grumpy asks, 'Me, a rascal', while fwipping a lock of hair over his eyes.
> Mrs. Hen clucked and tried to look wise.
CROW: You shouldn't say 'lookwise', you should say 'regarding looks'.
> And at last
> she confided to Grumpy that her neighbor was a jealous
JOEL: Driven to bitterness by an encounter with Grumpy's father, Cranky Weasel.
> and sure to speak ill of a stranger who came to call
> on anybody but herself.
TOM: What kind of freak wants people to call them?
JOEL: It was the 1910s, calls were different.
> Well, Grumpy Weasel told Mrs. Hen that he knew, when
> he first set eyes on her, that she was a sensible little
CROW: Compact, fuel-efficient, reasonable monthly payments, I'll take it.
> "You've a snug home here," he went on.
TOM: [ As Mrs Hen ] Why yes! No nails at all, all the boards are cut to fit together!
JOEL: [ As Grumpy ] Let me start over.
> "I can tell
> you that I'd like such a place to crawl into on a chilly, wet
CROW: Uh ...
JOEL: Arthur Scott Bailey *after dark*!
TOM: He told us!
> And though it was a warm, fine summer's day he
> shivered and shook, so Mrs. Hen could see.
CROW: [ As Mrs Hen ] 'Is that that Fox Trot dance I hear Vernon and Irene Castle do?'
JOEL: [ As Grumpy ] 'I'm a weasel, it's a Weasel Trot dance.'
> And silly Mrs. Hen couldn't help feeling sorry for
ALL: AT FIRST.
[ ... to be continued, perhaps ... ]
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