The Kelpie Caper: A Scottish Folklore Fiasco

Transcription:

Ach, sit yersel' doon, ye sorry excuse fer a human, an' let Wee Kevin regale ye wi' a tale full o' magic, mystery, an' utter nonsense. Gather roond, ye bawbags, as we delve intae the realm o' the fantastical wi' our two favourite eejits, Wee Kevin an' Lance. It wis a dreich, miserable day in Glenfinnan, the kind that makes ye want tae crawl back intae yer scratcher an' gie the world the finger. But nae Kevin an' Lance. Nae, these two muppets had decided it wis the perfect day tae gae wanderin' in the woods, huntin' fer the legendary Kelpie that the auld wives spoke aboot. "Kevin, ye sure this Kelpie thing is real?" Lance asked, scratchin' his arse an' lookin' like he'd jist crawled oot a bin. "Aye, it's real. An' if we catch it, we’ll be richer than that tight-fisted bastard, McGregor," Kevin replied, his eyes gleamin' wi' the kind o' madness that only an eejit could muster. Wi' a bottle o' Buckfast in one hand an' a rusty fishin' net in the other, the two numpties set aff intae the forest. It didnae take long before they started tae feel the eerie presence o' somethin' unnatural. The trees whispered secrets, an' the wind howled like a banshee wi' a hangover. "Did ye hear that, Kevin?" Lance whispered, his eyes wide wi' terror. "Ach, shut it, ye big jessie. It’s jist the wind," Kevin scoffed, though he couldnae hide the quiver in his voice. Suddenly, the ground shook, an' before them appeared the most magnificent beast they’d ever seen. It wis the Kelpie, a sleek, black stallion wi' eyes that glowed like the arse end o' a demon. It reeked o' damp moss an' ancient magic, an' it spoke wi' a voice like thunder. "Who dares tae enter my domain?" the Kelpie roared, snortin' steam frae its nostrils. "Wee Kevin an' Lance, at yer service!" Kevin declared, tryin' tae sound brave but failin' miserably. "Ach, ye pair o' dafties. Do ye no ken who I am? I could turn ye intae haggis wi' a flick o' my hoof!" the Kelpie bellowed, clearly unimpressed wi' the human idiots before it. "We jist want tae catch ye an' get rich, is all," Lance explained, as if talkin' tae a magical creature aboot kidnappin' it wis the most natural thing in the world. The Kelpie let oot a laugh that sounded like a thunderstorm an' a fart competition all rolled intae one. "Ye think ye can catch me? Ye couldnae catch a cold in a Siberian winter, ye muppets!" Kevin, nae one tae back doon, swung the fishin' net at the Kelpie, missin' spectacularly an' tanglin' himself up instead. Lance, never one tae be outdone in the stupidity stakes, tried tae tackle the Kelpie, only tae end up face first in a pile o' unicorn shite. "Och, for fook’s sake, Lance, ye eejit!" Kevin shouted, strugglin' tae free himself frae the net. The Kelpie, now thoroughly amused, decided tae have a bit o' fun. It transformed intae a bonnie lass wi' hair like spun gold an' eyes like emeralds. "Maybe ye’d prefer a wee lassie instead?" she teased, battin' her lashes. Lance, his face still covered in unicorn shite, stood up an' declared, "Aye, much better. Whit’s yer name, hen?" The Kelpie lass giggled, clearly enjoyin' the show. "Ye can call me Moira," she purred, steppin' closer tae the bumblin' fools. Kevin, finally free frae the net, brushed himself aff an' tried tae regain some dignity. "Listen, Moira, we dinnae want any trouble. We jist thought we could catch a Kelpie an' make a wee bit o' cash." Moira/Kelpie smirked. "An' whit makes ye think ye deserve anythin' but a swift kick in the arse?" Before they could answer, a blinding light filled the forest, an' out stepped the most unexpected saviour: a drunk leprechaun ridin' a bagpipe-playin' haggis. "Ach, nae bother, Moira. These two eejits are under my protection," the leprechaun slurred, wavin' a bottle o' whisky. Moira/Kelpie sighed. "Fine, but they owe me a favour," she said, transformin' back intae the Kelpie an' disappearin' intae the mist. The leprechaun, swayin' precariously on his haggis steed, looked at Kevin an' Lance. "Ye two need tae stop meddlin' wi' magic. Now, let's gae tae the pub an' drink til we cannae see straight." An' wi' that, the three of them stumbled back tae Glenfinnan, where they spent the night drinkin', singin', an' laughin' aboot their brush wi' the magical. In the end, Kevin an' Lance learned nothin', except that maybe huntin' mythical creatures wis better left tae the professionals. But as they clinked their glasses an' shouted "Slàinte!" they knew they’d hae a tale tae tell fer years tae come. An' so ends another chapter in the idiotic adventures o' Wee Kevin an' Lance, two daft bastards who somehow managed tae survive their own stupidity. Slàinte, ye bawbags!