When the daylight has faded

Mission WD-40 (#beginning)

The house was dark. Berta eased the door open and crept into the hallway on tippytoes, feeling her way towards the stairs. For a split second, she contemplated using her mobile's torch function for the descent to ground level but rejected the idea immediately. This mission was too important, and she knew these stairs by heart. This was an easy in and out, as they say.

Her bare feet touched wood. Berta grinned. Mission phase A accomplished without incident.

She grabbed the railing. The house was pitch black, rendering her effectively blind. Still, she navigated the flight of stairs with the ease and confidence of someone who had been up and down these steps a thousand times.

Just as a smile spread across her face, her right foot hit something warm and furry that protested being kicked in the belly at 3 a.m. with a resounding hiss, which was tolerable under the circumstances, followed by an ear-splitting miaow that led to an immediate mission abort.

Berta ran up the stairs and disappeared behind the door again. Her heart was racing, both from exertion and fright. The resulting panting caused an unfortunate inability to determine enemy activity.

'So close, so flipping close!'

Berta rested her forehead against the door until her breathing slowed. She gave herself another five minutes before she felt reasonably certain that the two possible enemy combatants were still resting safely in Morpheus's arms.

'Slowly does it!' Berta instructed her inner Speedy Gonzales. 'You will get there in the end. Just watch out for the bloody cat!'

A good eight minutes later, having manoeuvred herself down the stairs like a fragile porcelain doll, she reached the door to the kitchen.

'Now for the tricky part. Find key, put it in lock soundlessly, turn key, then open creakiest door in the world without making any noise.' Berta walked herself through the next phase of the mission plan carefully. Then she smiled.

"Piece of cake," she muttered quietly.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the key the foe had hidden in a Peace Lily. For someone self-trained in enemy surveillance, this was easy as pie. The hard part was opening the House-on-Haunted-Hill door, the last thing separating Berta from her mission target. But Berta came prepared. She whipped out her WD-40, special purchase for this undertaking, and began lubricating the door hinges like a jacked-up car mechanic. Well, considering the darkness, she hoped and prayed that she was lubricating the hinges and not the largely unused landline hanging on the wall.

Finally, breath bated, she slipped through the newly-muted door into the kitchen, immediately starting the process of alleviating the pantry of all sugary products, relief painted on her chubby cheeks.

"Mum, Dad, go quit your own bad habits!" she whisper-shouted.

But then, looking at her expansive waistline with disgust, she solemnly vowed, "Tomorrow, Berta, is a new beginning! This time it's for real. Just one more piece of cake. I promise!"