Story 106: Reza Shadey and the Guinea Pig Tycoon
Gather round, little ones. Tonight's tale tells of a cat so self-important he could make a peacock blush — and how he tried (and failed) to outwit a guinea pig half his size but with twice his brains.
It was a radiant Tuesday morning, and Reza Shadey, the fluffiest Persian cat in the district, reclined on Mrs Higgins's wall in full smug mode. His magnificent tail shimmered in the sunlight as he admired it from every angle.
"Flawless", he purred to himself. "A triumph of personal grooming and financial genius. I, Reza Shadey, offloaded my disastrous 'Sardine & Co.' enterprise to that gullible guinea pig many weeks ago. One can of tuna for a collapsing spa? A masterstroke of entrepreneurial brilliance."
He gave a self-satisfied chuckle, imagining Mr Fuzzypants about to go bust, drowning in cancelled appointments and furious customers.
But then — an unfamiliar sound drifted across the fence.
Cheerful humming. Contented munching. And... "Kerching", was that a cash register?
Reza's ears flicked. He stood, hopped to the edge of the wall, and peered down into the neighbour's garden. His jaw dropped so far it nearly hit the flowerbed.
The dilapidated old shed where he'd once run Sardine & Co. had vanished. In its place stood a gleaming, beautifully decorated little building with flower boxes, polished windows, and a neat hand-painted sign:
"Percival's Palace of Pampering".
And the queue! the Dog wagged happily, Chipper the Rabbit clutched a carrot-shaped ticket, Hammie the Hamster looked freshly groomed, and several mice waited with tiny appointment cards. And at the door — wearing a spotless green bowtie — stood Mr Fuzzypants... now using his first name Percival (or Percy to close friends).
Reza's fluff stiffened with indignation. "What treachery is THIS?" he hissed. "My former struggling empire is thriving without me?! Impossible. Completely impossible. Unless..." His eyes narrowed. "Unless the potato-shaped rodent is using... business wizardry."
A lesser cat might have confronted the situation directly. But not Reza. No, no. This required subtlety. Cunning. The sophisticated mind of an entrepreneur. Which he believed (incorrectly) he possessed.
Reza scampered inside Mrs Higgins's house, rummaged through every drawer he could force open, and emerged with: A pair of novelty sunglasses shaped like pineapples, a floppy sunhat that swallowed half his face, a stick-on moustache designed for toddlers' dress-up parties, and a trench coat from Mrs Higgins's teddy bear collection.
He looked in the mirror. "Perfect", he whispered. "A flawless disguise. No one will suspect a thing."
He strutted toward Percival's booming business, wobbling slightly under the weight of the enormous hat. As he approached the queue, Penelope glanced over and blinked slowly. "Rezzi... is that you?"
Reza dropped his voice an octave. "I do not know this Rezzi. I am a totally ordinary customer named... Mister... Shadeless... Esquire. Yes. A common fellow with simple spa needs."
Ginger Tom sniffed. "Mate, your tail is sticking out."
Reza tucked his tail inside the coat. "SHH, cat-I-do-not-know, I'm undercover." Ignoring his baffled neighbourhood friends, he shimmied into the salon, pushing past a surprised hedgehog.
Inside, soothing music played. The air smelled like hay and cucumber. Percival worked efficiently, tending to 's spa mat while updating a ledger with serene professionalism.
Reza-in-disguise cleared his throat loudly. "Ahem. HELLO, RODENT — I MEAN — FELLOW SMALL BUSINESS OWNER. I am here for... um... one pampering please."
Percival blinked politely and squeaked in welcome. Reza leaned in. "Tell me your secrets. I mean — your services. Yes. Your services."
Percival offered him a small crisp slice of green pepper. Reza recoiled. "Vegetables?! I am — I MEAN — Mister Shadeless does not eat peasant food!" But curiosity got the better of him. He took a bite.
Crunch. Crunch-crunch.
"I see", he muttered, eyes widening. "This is... disturbingly pleasant... I mean... I shall require another slice. For forensic analysis..."
While Reza was distracted by the enticing crunchiness, Percival calmly tended to customers with perfect memory, gentle squeaks, and professional charm.
Penelope appeared in the doorway, whispering to Tiger, "He's trying to spy on Percival." Tiger waved enthusiastically. "Hi Reza! Nice hat!"
Reza hissed. "SHH! I am undercover!" At that moment, his stick-on moustache peeled off and stuck to Percival's ledger. The room went silent. Percival looked at Reza. The customers looked at Reza. Even the goldfish did a slow blink.
Reza sighed dramatically and pulled off the floppy hat. "Fine! It is I! The visionary! The titan of industry! REZA SHADEY."
wagged sympathetically. "We know, mate."
Reza puffed up his chest. "I am here to expose your trickery, Percival! I entrusted you with a failing empire, and you turned it into a success. Explain yourself!"
Percival simply trotted forward and offered another pepper slice. Reza froze. He took it. Crunch.
Penelope whispered kindly, "Rezzi... he's just good at listening to what customers want. You were... well... more focused on ruling everyone."
Reza flicked his tail. "Nonsense. Absurd. I merely choose different priorities. Like — naps. And tuna." He glanced around the calm, happy spa. "Hmph. Functional. Efficient. Lacking velvet, but I see the appeal."
He leapt off the counter and adjusted his fur. "Very well! I shall allow Percival to continue operating as a franchisee under my imaginary brand. A generous gesture from me. Obviously."
Ginger Tom rolled his eyes. "Sure, boss."
Reza strutted out, tearing off the trench coat. Tiger trotted after him. "Did you win, Reza?"
Reza gave a smug smile. "Of course I did. I achieved exactly what I intended: a thorough evaluation of my subordinate's business. I am basically mentoring him. Secretly."
Penelope giggled. "Right."
Back in his sunbeam, Reza curled up, feeling secretly relieved he didn't have to manage customers ever again. He preferred being a legend. Legends don't do admin.
And as the sun warmed his back, he whispered to himself: "Next business plan: world domination... just as soon as I locate a suitable snack."
Night night. Sleep tight.