Story 44: Reza Shadey and the Ghost Mouse
Okay, snuggle down tight, little ones.
Let me tell you a tale about a very cheeky and magnificently fluffy cat...
One dark and whispery night, Reza Shadey prowled through Mrs Higgins's garden, his fluffy coat blending into the shadows like a ninja in fur slippers.
Suddenly, something glowed near the compost bin.
GASP!
A tiny mouse, twinkling like a star, floated straight through a leaf.
Now this was Glimmer — a ghost mouse on a mission to haunt.
You see, Glimmer had once been a very much alive mouse, whom Reza had chased relentlessly... without ever catching him, of course. He had come from the Other Side to give one naughty cat a proper fright.
But he didn't know Reza.
Oh no.
Reza Shadey had no guilt, no shame, and definitely no fear.
Instead of running away, he grinned.
"A ghost mouse?" he murmured. "How extremely useful."
The very next morning, Reza leaped onto the garden shed, puffed out his chest, and announced in his loudest, most dramatic voice:
"LISTEN UP, MY SIMPLE-MINDED FRIENDS! A spooky spectre haunts us! A shimmering, cheese-stealing phantom! But fear not, for I, Reza Shadey, Ghost-Buster Extraordinaire, shall save you all — for a teeny-tiny treat fee, of course!"
Penelope blinked her elegant eyes.
"Really, Rezzi? A ghost mouse? Not just a shiny pebble that rolled away?"
Ginger Tom licked his chops thoughtfully.
"Does ghost mouse taste like sparkly jellyfish? Asking for a friend, obviously."
Tiger bounced in excited circles.
"Can I chase it? Can I be haunted too?! Please, please, pretty please with catnip on top!"
Reza nodded solemnly, trying very hard not to giggle.
"Indeed! Ghosts steal naps, make your whiskers tingle, and worst of all — they pinch your favourite snacks! Only I, with my magnificent ghost-busting paws, can protect you. My fee? Premium tuna... or perhaps a mountain of dreamies."
And so, "Reza's Ghostly Go-Away Service" began.
Cats from all over the neighbourhood lined up with their most prized possessions: crunchy biscuits, bouncy balls, and even Mrs Higgins left out extra salmon "just in case".
Reza would prance about, wave his paws mysteriously, and mutter spooky nonsense like:
"Be gone, wobbly wisp of doom!"
Meanwhile, poor Glimmer — who was trying his very best to be properly frightening — became the star of the show without even meaning to. He'd float past, glowing gently. The cats would gasp... and then immediately hand over even more treats.
Reza even began holding exclusive "ghost galas" behind the compost bin.
Wearing a colander on his head as a "spirit hat", he would ask very important questions:
"O wise Glimmer, will Penelope find a warm sunbeam today?"
He would then give Glimmer a tiny nudge.
Glimmer would squeak politely.
Reza would gasp.
"The spirits say... maybe! Now, where is my payment?"
And he would collect it at once.
His most important, and floofiest, client was a magnificent Persian named Shah Fluffybutt.
Reza convinced him that Glimmer could even find lost chicken pieces that had rolled under the sofa.
So every day, Shah Fluffybutt brought delicious roast dinners to Mrs Higgins's best armchair — which had now become Reza's official "consultation throne".
But Glimmer had had enough.
He had come to haunt — not to be a party trick, and certainly not to help a cat find chicken.
One night, as Shah Fluffybutt arrived with a whole plate of salmon, Glimmer floated up to Reza, gave one final, very exasperated...
"BOO!"
...and vanished forever with a soft pop.
Reza Shadey was devastated.
Not about Glimmer, of course.
But about the disappearing salmon... and the endless supply of dreamies.
"Meee-YOWCH!" he wailed.
Then, very quickly, he sat up straight, smoothed his whiskers, and addressed his clients.
"Fear not!" he declared grandly. "I was simply too brilliant. The ghost fled from my overwhelming greatness! My ghost-busting skills are, quite clearly, far too powerful."
Shah Fluffybutt frowned.
"No ghosty... no fishy."
The other cats began to grumble.
Penelope demanded her prawns back.
Ginger Tom hugged his empty biscuit box.
Tiger just wanted his bouncy ball returned — ghost or no ghost.
And so, Reza's ghostly business crumbled like soggy cat biscuits left out in the rain.
He curled up in his bed, muttering to himself:
"Terrible staffing... absolutely terrible. Next ghost will need a proper agreement... and a strict no-vanishing rule."
Night night. Sleep tight.