One more chapter to see you all off to bed. I trust you are all in pj's tucked up with favourite support teddies...
Chapter Four: Nicola the Nosy Sturgeon
It was a quiet morning on Loch Lomond, the water shimmering like molten silver under the early sun. Feeling the need for some solitude after the raucous weekend, I, Boiledbeetle, decided to try my luck fishing. Armed with a rod, a handful of questionable bait (leftover prawn crackers from the Chinese takeaway), and my unshakable optimism, I paddled out onto the loch in a tiny rowboat adorned with the phrase “Row, Row, Row Your Beet.”
The stillness of the loch was suddenly broken by a fierce tug on the line. I gripped the rod as it arched dramatically, the reel screaming in protest. Whatever I’d hooked wasn’t just nibbling—it was pulling me across the loch at an alarming speed. My antennae quivered with a mix of excitement and mild terror.
With one final yank, my catch emerged from the water in a spectacular splash. It was a massive sturgeon, her glistening scales reflecting the morning light. She flopped onto the deck of my boat and fixed me with a steely glare. Then, to my utter amazement, she spoke.
“PUT ME BACK AT ONCE!” she boomed, in a voice so loud and commanding that birds scattered from nearby trees.
“Well, hello to you too,” I replied, regaining my composure. “And who might you be?”
“I AM NICOLA,” she declared, flipping her tail indignantly. “I WAS ON AN IMPORTANT MISSION WHEN YOU INTERRUPTED ME. THIS IS AN OUTRAGE.”
Intrigued, I leaned in. “A mission, you say? What kind of mission?”
She hesitated, then sighed dramatically. “FINE. I’LL TELL YOU, BUT ONLY BECAUSE YOU WON’T UNDERSTAND MY GENIUS ANYWAY. I WAS ATTEMPTING TO INFILTRATE A CERTAIN BUNKER THROUGH THE SEWERAGE SYSTEM THAT EMPTIES INTO THIS LOCH.”
I froze. “You don’t mean…my bunker?”
“AH, SO YOU’RE THE KEEPER OF THE SELF-REPLICATING TEA CAKE,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “IT’S ALL OVER THE UNDERWATER NETWORK. EVERYONE WANTS A SLICE OF THE ACTION.”
I knew I couldn’t let her go, not with her scheming to swipe my prized possession. But rather than confront her outright, I decided to play it cool.
“Well, Nicola,” I said with exaggerated cheer, “since we’ve already met so fortuitously, why don’t you join me for dinner at the bunker? I’d love to hear more about your...underwater network.”
“DINNER?” she asked, looking surprised. “WELL, I SUPPOSE I COULD ENTERTAIN THE IDEA. BUT NO FUNNY BUSINESS.”
“Oh, none at all,” I assured her, hiding a sly grin.
As I rowed us back to shore, Nicola regaled me with tales of her escapades in the murky depths, completely unaware of the fact that she herself was about to become the main course. Dinner preparations were already forming in my mind: a splash of lemon, a sprinkle of dill, and perhaps a side of mashed potatoes. After all, a beetle’s got to eat.