Story 73: Reza Shadey and the Mysterious Story Snatcher
One nippy morning, Reza Shadey, the fluffiest, boldest, and most biscuit-obsessed cat in all of Mrs Higgins's garden, awoke with a yawn, a stretch, and a terrible realisation. His latest bedtime story hadn't shown up on the Smart Speaker's story list!
"Ridiculous!" Reza meowed, pawing at the glowing speaker. "Where's my tale of heroic napping and premium tuna theft?"
The speaker blinked once and replied: "Would you like a story about moss and mindfulness?"
Reza froze. "Mindfulness? I am the opposite of that!" He grabbed a biscuit and flung it at the speaker. It bounced off, flew through the open window, and landed next to Penelope, who was already awake in the garden, sipping imaginary tea from a flowerpot saucer.
Reza whispered dramatically. "I suspect my story is being hidden! A digital doom! A ranking rebellion! We must fight the... Story-Picker Machine!"
Penelope squinted. "A Story-Picker... what?"
Tiger bounced past shouting, "Does the Story-Picker Machine like to bounce? I can bounce thirty-seven times without sneezing!"
Ginger Tom appeared from behind the shed, licking something mysterious and crunchy. "I once bit a Story-Picker Machine. Tasted like socks and spinach."
Reza flicked his tail. "No time for small talk. We need someone who understands machines. Someone sneaky. Someone who eats sardines and secrets."
That night, a strange figure tiptoed across Mrs Higgins's compost bin. He wore goggles made of bottle caps, carried dangly wires in his fur, and smelled faintly of dried fish. This was Sinan. He wasn't from England, you see. He was a very clever raccoon who had stowed away on a big ship from a faraway land, hoping to find the world's best biscuits! He'd heard rumours that Mrs Higgins's garden was full of them. Now, he lived in a secret hidey-hole under the shed, helping out with any 'tricky' problems for a share of tasty snacks.
"Name's Sinan", he rasped. "Machine whisperer, secret-code cracker, nocturnal napper."
Tiger gasped. "You're a raccoon!"
"I prefer 'code-based critter', thank you", Sinan grinned, flipping open a biscuit tin filled with tangled wires. "And I hear your story is being... hidden."
Reza puffed out his chest. "My story should be number one on every smart speaker, fridge screen, and talking toaster in the county!"
Sinan nodded and whispered, "Then it's time to meet the one who runs the system..."
Deep in Mrs Higgins's cupboard — behind two umbrellas and one lost scone — was the Smart Speaker's hidden control unit. It was a small, glowing device that hummed softly.
Reza tiptoed in, wearing his detective colander. Penelope had slipped through the cat flap and held the flashlight. Ginger Tom, always keen for a snack, carried biscuits for morale. Tiger had also snuck in, and... well, he just carried on bouncing.
Sinan approached the glowing device. "This is where she lives. The Story-Picker Machine. Her name is Algorithma."
The device blinked. "Good evening. Reza Shadey's ranking is currently set to: mildly dramatic biscuit chaser with poor magic word manners."
Reza shrieked. "WHAT?!"
"Your use of too many meows", Algorithma continued, "and confusing story titles have triggered a telling-off." Penelope muttered, "She's strict."
Sinan growled, "She's tricky. She once marked me as a 'sardine-adjacent possum.' I am a raccoon!"
Suddenly, the Smart Speaker burped. Then, from Mrs Higgins's laptop, which had been left open on the kitchen counter, a familiar, sleek, fluffy face appeared on the screen... It was Shah Fluffybutt, his eyes gleaming with mischievous satisfaction. "HELLO, lesser beings", Shah Fluffybutt purred, his voice echoing from the speaker. "Did you really think bedtime fame wasn't a competition?"
Reza narrowed his eyes. "You're behind this?"
"Indeed", Shah Fluffybutt swished his magnificent tail (visible on the screen). "I installed a new rule. I hacked into Mrs Higgins's laptop and tinkered with the Smart Speaker settings. Now only pets with maximum majesticness and salmon-powered sparkle get top stories." Algorithma chimed in. "Shah Fluffybutt is currently ranked: Supreme Storyworthy Entity of Fluff."
Tiger whimpered. "Does that mean he gets double stories?"
Ginger Tom shrugged. "I just want socks."
Reza turned to Sinan. "Can we fix this?"
Sinan cracked his tiny knuckles. "I need a biscuit... and a moment to think..." As instructed by Sinan, operation Story-Fixing began! Reza, Penelope, Ginger Tom, and Tiger all started shouting silly, happy phrases at the speaker, hoping to confuse Algorithma: "Zen guinea pig snores!" and "Helpful hedgehog hugs!" and "Sardine-based sharing!"
Tiger bounced in circles chanting, "Fuzzy-wuzzy-wiggles!" making the cupboard vibrate with his energy.
Ginger Tom mumbled a sleepy poem called "Feelings of a Warm Sock."
Mrs Higgins, who writes all Reza's stories, even got involved, whispering "Reza is wonderful" into the speaker every time she made tea.
Shah Fluffybutt, still on the laptop screen, tried one last trick! He made all of Reza's story titles turn into silly, mixed-up words. Reza's "The Great Cat Rescue" became "Cloudy With a Chance of Crumbs."
But Sinan laughed. "You forgot one thing, Shah..." With a flick of his paw, he typed a secret code into the laptop. This code told Algorithma to ignore all 'favouritism filters' and only look at how much fun the stories truly were. He then added a special tag to Reza's profile: "Unpredictable, universally adored biscuit diplomat."
The system hiccupped. The glowing device fizzled. The speaker shouted: "Reza Shadey ranking updated: BISCUIT HERO LEVEL MAXIMUM. SUPER-FLUFF FAVOURITISM FILTER DISMISSED."
Penelope cheered politely. Tiger launched into a celebratory bounce. Ginger Tom asked if socks had feelings again.
Shah Fluffybutt's image on the laptop screen glitched, then vanished in a puff of digital static and mild embarrassment.
From that day on, Reza's stories were back at the top. Algorithma softened, offering compliments like, "Your biscuit theories are emotionally resonant." Sinan continued to live in his hidey-hole under the shed, occasionally helping out with tricky tech problems for a share of tasty snacks.
And Reza? He curled into his favourite sunny patch, tail twitching, biscuits nearby, and muttered: "Next time I take on the toaster."
Night night, Sleep tight.