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“Just looking,” I said. I checked underneath the cabinet, behind it, and even inside it, but unfortunately my hunch wasn’t playing out the way I’d hoped. Instead, all I got for my trouble was a nose full of stuffed cat hair. Yuck!

“I think we need to enlist the assistance of some denizens of the underworld,” said Shanille now, as she, too, returned from an expedition along the dungeon perimeter.

“The underworld?” asked Dooley with a shiver. “That sounds scary!”

“Yeah, what are you talking about, Shanille?” asked Harriet, looking more and more frustrated. The Stockholm syndrome was clearly wearing off, as her more and more frequent passages in front of that mirror indicated.

“We need to talk with someone with an insider’s knowledge of this dungeon.”

We all stared at her, but she refused to elucidate any further, until she made a beeline for a small scurrying creature that had momentarily emerged from behind a dusty old bookcase, and then disappeared once more. It was small, it was black, and it was not one of nature’s most beloved creatures. In other words: it was a black beetle.

“Hey, there, Mr. Beetle,” said Shanille, using her most unctuous tone to induce the beetle to emerge once more from its hiding place. “We won’t do you any harm,” she promised.

“Who would harm a beetle?” asked Brutus with a shudder.

“Some cats love a nice beetle,” said Buster. When I gave him a look of astonishment, he shrugged. “Personally I don’t move in such circles, and so I don’t know anyone who does, but I’ve heard stories.”

“Here, let me try,” I said, and approached the small bug with the scurrying feet. “Look, Mr. Beetle,” I said, “we’re in a spot of bother here. We’re…” I quickly counted my co-prisoners, “six cats and we’re trapped down here by a very dangerous man who won’t hesitate to murder us in cold blood. So if you could please show us a way out, we’d be extremely grateful, dear sir. Or madam.”

After a moment, undoubtedly needed for my words to sink in, the beetle came peeking around a corner of the bookcase, drinking me in with its beady little eyes.

“And what’s in it for me?” he asked finally, proving that even your common black beetle is a capitalist at heart.

“Well, if you help us,” I said, thinking hard, “we’ll make sure you have all the food you need for as long as you live.” Which, according to some reports, isn’t all that long.

“Mh,” said the beetle, weighing my offer. “Throw in food for my flock and I’m all yours,” he said.

“Your… flock?” I asked. I had no idea black beetles had embraced religion.

“Yeah, I’m the leader of a flock a thousand souls strong, and let me tell you, it’s not easy finding nourishment for so many mouths on a daily basis.”

“Okay, so I promise you we’ll feed your flock of a thousand souls if you can help us escape from this horrible place.”

“Would you call this horrible?” asked the beetle, cocking its head a little. “I kinda like it. I mean, it’s dark, dank and dirty, which is exactly the way I like it.”

Which just goes to show that it takes all kinds.

“So are you going to help us or not?” said Harriet, losing her patience. “Cause I’ve got a belly full of paint here, and if I don’t see a vet I might die any second!”

“Okay, so if you’re prepared to do some digging,” said the black beetle, who seemed nice enough once you got to know him, “I can show you a way out.”

“That’s great,” I said. “And we’re certainly prepared to do all the digging that is needed. Oh, and by the way, my name is Max.”

“Frank,” said the beetle. “Nice to meet you, Max.” He glanced over to Harriet. “And who’s the hot dame?”

“Hot dame!” Harriet cried, a little flustered. “I’ll have you know that I’ve never looked more terrible than I look right now!”

“You still look pretty fine to me, babe,” said Frank.

“Why, thank you… I guess,” said Harriet dubiously.

Brutus didn’t seem particularly pleased with these romantic overtures, but he kept his mouth tightly shut, not wanting to jeopardize our one and only chance of escape.

Frank led us in the direction of an unlit corner of the dungeon, where the ground appeared to have been tilled to some extent.

“This is where we live,” he said, and much to my surprise, suddenly that same patch of soil began to move, and before long, dozens of black beetles emerged!

“Flock, meet Max and his friends,” said Frank.

“Hi, Max!” said one of the many black beetles who’d joined us.

“Oh, my God, I think I’m going to be sick,” I could hear Shanille murmur.

“Okay, so if you dig right here, where the earth has already been prepared,” said Frank, “you’ll be able to reach the surface in next to no time. It’s a tunnel we’ve built, you see, only of course it’s much too tight for you guys. But if you put your backs into it, I’m sure you’llmanage.” He then heaved a deep sigh. “Of course, in creating your tunnel, you’ll also be destroying the place of worship for my flock, which means you’ll have to provide us with a new one, same way you’re going to provide us with food for the rest of our natural lives.”