Story 121: Reza Shadey and the Night Before Christmas
Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones. Let me tell you a tale about a very cheeky and magnificently fluffy cat who heard a famous Christmas poem and decided he could run the whole holiday better than anyone — even the real St. Nicholas!
It was the evening of the 24th of December in cosy Catford, and the house was twinkly with fairy lights. The air smelled of biscuits and pine needles, and everything felt warm and quiet.
Mrs Higgins had hung the stockings by the chimney with care, and she was reading aloud to her little niece and nephew:
"'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse..."
Reza Shadey lay sprawled on his favourite cushion like a king on his throne, tail draped elegantly over the edge. His big green eyes widened as he listened.
"Free gifts?" he thought. "In the middle of the night?"
He flicked an ear.
"Hmph! Nobody gives away toys and treats for nothing. This St. Nicholas must be the cleverest boss of all. He sneaks in, leaves presents, and everyone wakes up so grateful they adore him forever. That's influence. That's legacy."
Reza's whiskers twitched.
"By the time they grow up, they'll probably still be thanking him. Writing songs. Leaving snacks. Maybe even naming cats after him."
In Reza's mind, the poem wasn't about kindness at all. It was about power, timing, and excellent branding.
"I shall be Reza-Claus!" he declared, leaping onto the mantelpiece and striking a heroic pose. "A gift is merely a deposit for future repayment. The smaller the deposit, the bigger the profit margin!"
He immediately began collecting his most valuable — yet utterly worthless — possessions.
A battered bottle cap ("Highly Collectable Fluff-Covered Coin!")
A dead crunchy leaf ("Vintage Organic Fan!")
And a single, magnificent shed hair from his own luxurious tail.
He held the hair up to the light.
"A lock of the Master's power", he murmured reverently. "Practically priceless."
Then he paused.
Tiger.
Tiger didn't care about power, contracts, or admiration. Tiger liked bouncing. And jingling. And things that made noise.
Reza rummaged again and found a small, bent silver bell from an old cat toy. He tied it neatly to a short bit of ribbon, nodded once, and said, "Excellent. Festive. Loud."
Next came the paperwork.
Reza tore up scraps of paper and tied them with scavenged tinsel, writing in his tiniest, most official handwriting.
To Penelope
Gift: One Vintage Organic Leaf
The Small Print: By accepting this priceless botanical treasure, you agree to provide Reza-Claus with three whole tuna steaks, one daily paw massage, and the warmest garden spot for the next year.
To Ginger Tom
Gift: One Highly Collectable Bottle Cap
The Small Print: Acceptance constitutes agreement to surrender all future crunchy biscuits, plus twenty hours of sunbathing time, to be scheduled entirely by Reza-Claus.
To Tiger
Gift: One Jingly Night-Bounce Bell
The Small Print: Recipient agrees to bounce enthusiastically whenever festive chaos is required.
Tiger, peeking over Reza's shoulder, jingled the bell experimentally. "I love it", he said at once.
Reza smiled smugly. "Naturally."
Finally, Reza prepared the most important contract of all.
The shed hair went into a beautifully addressed envelope for Mrs Higgins.
The Small Print: Unlimited treats. Eternal admiration. Exclusive lap access when requested. Immediate forgiveness for all future mischief, including but not limited to: singing at dawn, dramatic fainting, and experimental climbing.
"Very reasonable", Reza nodded.
He summoned his team.
"Penelope, elegant Chief Elf!"
"Ginger Tom, mighty reindeer!"
"Tiger... you shall be PRANCER!"
Tiger bounced so hard the bell rang wildly. "I'M PRANCER!"
Penelope blinked slowly. "Rezzi, are you sure about this? The poem is about giving with love."
"Love?" Reza scoffed. "Love is just appreciation that hasn't read the contract yet."
At midnight, Reza appeared in full costume: a red scarf cape, a pillow tied round his belly, and a cotton-wool beard glued on with honey. His sleigh was Mrs Higgins's old wheelbarrow, piled high with gifts and scrolls.
"Everyone aboard!" Reza announced grandly. "Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! On, Prancer! Dash away all!"
He privately congratulated himself. If they enjoy it, he reasoned, that still counts as leadership.
First stop: Penelope's garden.
Reza placed the leaf carefully by the door, struck a noble pose — and sneezed as the sticky beard tickled his nose.
"Achoo!"
Glitter burst everywhere like a sparkly snowstorm.
Next stop: Ginger Tom's house.
Tiger bounced a little too enthusiastically.
CLANG!
The wheelbarrow tipped. Reza flailed. "What a clatter!"
Lights flicked on nearby.
Ginger Tom peered out sleepily. "You'll wake everyone. And these contracts are ridiculous."
Tiger jingled proudly. "Listen! I got a bell! I can ring it AND bounce!"
Reza puffed out his chest. "Exactly as planned."
Finally came the grand chimney manoeuvre.
"Down the chimney he came with a bound—"
Reza slipped.
Fell.
And became hopelessly tangled in the fairy lights like a glowing, meowing decoration.
"Meeeow! My dignity!"
Tiger laughed so hard he rolled in the snow, bell jingling wildly. Ginger Tom yawned. Penelope gently untangled the lights.
"Rezzi", she said softly, "the real St. Nicholas gives without asking for anything back. That's why everyone loves him."
Just then, a quiet whoosh filled the air.
A real sleigh glided past, pulled by eight tiny reindeer. A jolly figure in red waved, his eyes twinkling, and dropped a shiny tin of biscuits right at Reza's paws.
Reza stared.
"He... gave me something? For free? No contract?"
The sleigh vanished into the night.
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
Reza sat quietly, fairy lights still draped over him, biscuit tin warm in his paws. His clever plan had failed completely — and yet his tummy felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the lights.
"Hmph", he muttered, nibbling a biscuit. "Perhaps next year I'll just... give proper presents. It might confuse them even more."
Mrs Higgins came outside in her dressing gown and laughed. "Oh, Reza, you silly sausage. Let's get you inside."
And as the fire crackled and Tiger jingled happily with his bell, Reza Shadey curled up by the hearth, dreaming of sugar-plums — and just a little bit of real Christmas magic.
A very important message from Mrs Higgins: Christmas is about giving with love, not tricks or contracts. And never climb on roofs or play with fairy lights without a grown-up.
Night night. Sleep tight.