Barnaby “Lake Boy” Butterfield, renowned for his questionable fashion choices (think neon green swim trunks with matching flamingo sunglasses), declared it the perfect day for a swim. The sun blazed, the lake shimmered, and Barnaby, armed with a giant inflatable flamingo (naturally), was ready. He bounced on the edge, shouting, “Behold! Lake Boy takes the plunge!”
His friend, Penelope, a pragmatic girl with sensible sandals, raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that, Barnaby? Old Man Fitzwilliam warned about the… uh… ‘lake monster’.”
Barnaby scoffed. “Lake monster? Penelope, that’s just an old wives’ tale! Besides,” he gestured dramatically to his inflatable flamingo, “I have my trusty steed!”
With a mighty yell (and a slightly wobbly leap), Barnaby launched himself into the lake. A splash! A squeal! Then… silence. Penelope peered into the water, her sensible sandals sinking slightly into the soft mud.
After a minute of unnerving silence, Barnaby’s head popped up, sputtering. He was clinging to the flamingo, looking utterly green. “Penelope,” he gasped, “I think Old Man Fitzwilliam was right.”
Penelope sighed, “About the lake monster?”
Barnaby shook his head, clinging to his flamingo for dear life. “No. About the geese. There’s a whole flock of them, and they are *not* amused by my bright pink flamingo.” He pointed to a group of very angry-looking geese, honking ferociously and paddling furiously towards him. “They seem to think it’s a giant, inflatable rival.”
