You can sift through the racc list archive https://lists.eyrie.org/pipermail/racc/
or you can try google groups racc for the full Who Killed the Cat With Glasses?

'Who Killed the Cat With Glasses?' was written by Saxon Brenton, Scott Eiler, Rob
Rogers, and me (Arthur Spitzer) at RACCCon 2012 at a Starbucks in Benicia, California (where Rob lives).

So, we reach the Internet Shattering Conclusion of 'Who Killed the Cat With Glasses?' -- But WHO did kill the cat with glasses? Was it MacCavity the Cat Burglar? Perhaps Sgt. Kidd? Or maybe Sarge n' Kid? How about Mary O'Hanrahan?
Black Brady? Doktor Schroedinger? Detective Cookie Crumple? Could it be Habanero the Fourth of July Miracle Cat? Or maybe Likes-To-Kill-Cats-With-Glasses
Brad Pitt? (Okay probably not him...)



Anyways, find out in...



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|____| \__] \__ | |_| \__/ |_|\_\
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|_| OF NET.HEROES

ADVENTURES #228


=====================
Who Killed the Cat With Glasses? Part Two
=====================






From: EDMLite robrogers72 at gmail.com
Date: Wed Jul 4 17:52:58 PDT 2012





--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

"Place that last one at the center of the pile,” Black Brady
said, as the forklift operator gingerly lowered the latest feline
vertebra to become a part of the cult leader’s extensive collection.

"There it is," the forklift operator said. "Nasty thing.
Weird, too – the cat we took it from wore glasses. Ever seen
anything like that?"

"Of course, of course," Black Brady said. "Believe me, when
you're in the cat spine collecting business, as I am, you’ve seen it
all, sooner or later."

"About that," the operator said. "Something I've been meaning
to ask you."

"Why do I collect cat spines?"

"Well, no," the operator said. "I mean, why do you call
yourself Black Brady?"

Black Brady sighed. "It's not as obvious now, I suppose," he
said. "But in the '70s... in my prime... everyone who met me said I
was the spitting image of what the kid who played Bobby on The Brady
Bunch would look like, if he was African-American."

"I... see," the operator said. "Well. Off to pick up another
batch of spines."

"Not so fast, my friend," Brady said. Before the operator could
manage a yelp, the cult leader leaped forward, dug his enamelled
fingernails into the back of the hapless forklift operator, pushed,
and yanked out the man’s wriggling spine.

"Hyyyyack!" the forklift operator said, and expired.

"Just as I suspected," Brady said, staring at the man's spine,
which slithered in his grasp like a caffeinated Conger eel. "A
tracking device – no doubt planted on the man by the so-called
Insight Battalion! Well, let them come. Let them come!"

He stared at the row of spines before him... a row that had been
carefully woven into a labyrinth of vertebral bone.

"Let them come," he crowed, "and fall into… my SPINAL TRAP!"


--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

And Lazy Brad Pitt lying on his hotel bed clicked on the TV remote
and flipped through the channels on TV. There were tons of channels,
but nothing seemed to be on. And the flipping through channels was
beginning to get very tiring. Finally, he stopped on some news
channel. There was some news story on. It was a news story about
him. Brad Pitt. And the news story said he was dead. He was dead.
He had been killed in some car accident. And he had been driving a
Yugo.

What the hell? Was this some kind of prank? He wasn't dead.
And there was no way he'd ever drive a Yugo! He thought about calling
one of his people on the phone to straighten this whole mess out, but
that sounded like it might take a lot of work. And it was probably
pointless. I mean eventually some one would go into this hotel room
and make the bed or something and he could tell that person that he
was still alive.

Yeah, that's what he'd do.

Man, some pot and wReamos would sure be nice. Too bad there they
were all the way over in his suitcase way over near the closet. Man,
that was a long way. A very long way.

Lazy Brad Pitt sighed.

And then he heard someone knocking on his door. Hey, maybe he
could have the maid get him his pot and wReamos. "Come in -- not
locked!"

And some one came in. But not the maid. And the person had a
gun. And the person started shooting. Shooting at Brad.

And Lazy Brad Pitt thought about dodging the bullets. But
man -- that would take a lot of work.

And so he didn't.

Bummer, thought Lazy Brad Pitt looking at all of his bleeding
chest wounds.

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--
MacCavity fell over laughing. <<Oh, I can't *wait* to hear
*that* story! Seriously? *Habanero* the *Fourth of July* Miracle Cat?
Who's the Cinco de Mayo Miracle Cat? Corncob?>>

<<You mock Habanero at your peril... Ole!>> Habanero took up a bullfigher's pose.

MacCavity laughed some more. <<I'm thirteen years old! That's eleventy-five or something in human years! Surely you don't expect
*me* to charge you?>>

<<Oh, I'm sure you can think of *something.*>>

<<Right.>> MacCavity raised his paw to his collar, and pressed a
button.

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

Below, in the station house, Sgt. Kidd watched a cyborg cat rear
up on its hind legs and tail. Its front paws popped off. A blade
popped out of each socket.

Then the cat paused, and turned its head.

"Oooh! Someone blew a kitty whistle!", Kidd said.

The other cop said, "Isn't it dogs that have whistles?"

"Maybe, but this kitty's hearing *something*."

The cat raised its hindquarters and whirled its tail. Upside
down, it rose into the air and flew out of the police station!

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

From the overpass above, Habanero said, <<Well? Shall you reveal
your villainous attack, or will I be forced to... serenade you?>> In
the distance, trumpets and mariachis sounded a challenge.

MacCavity responded, <<Hold your mouses... Ah, here he comes.>>
With tail whirling, a flying cat dove toward Habanero!

<<Ole!>> With one fluid motion, Habanero reached toward a pouch
at his side, drew out a cat-sized white sheet, and waved it in front
of the flying cat. That cat disappeared into the sheet!

MacCavity gaped. <<Huh? What was that!?>>

Habanero laughed. <<Miracle Pet Wipes, of course! Available at
Petco and other great American stores! And that is why I love America!

<<Oh, please. You're obviously Mexican. Except for your
bullfighting which is Spanish. And I think I hear some Brazilian
maracas in your band.>>

<<Si! I am Latino *and* I am American! I was American before
your American ancestors were even *in* America! Now... do you
surrender?>>

MacCavity chuckled. <<I suppose so. Following you around should
give me *great* amusement.>>

<<Bravo! Then come with me! Evil is afoot!>>

Trumpets swelled. Maracas rattled. And in a poof of smoke,
Habanero and MacCavity were standing in a pit.

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

Agent O'Hanrahan set up her gear on a secluded hilltop near Black
Brady's mansion. She knew she had the right place, from the forklift
loaded with cat spines. She was hidden but she had the view.
Perfect.

She couldn't see inside the garage the forklift went in. But her ground-penetrating radar could. Two men were inside, counting the
forklift operator. Then her directional microphone picked up a
"hyaaack" sound. And it became only one man.

Well, either someone had teleported, or someone had died. Well,
all she needed was *probable* cause. Time to call the police.

But then came a poof of smoke to her side. Black Brady was
there! "Oh, so you've come to view my collection! Perhaps you'd like
the guided tour."

"No thanks. I've seen enough from here."

"I do think I could elucidate, though. This hilltop is my
private ritual ground. Surely you did not think to surprise me here."

Dammit, Mary thought. She was already moving when Black Brady
threw a small pentacle at where her feet had been. He was saying,
"And now to bind you... Huh?" Mary shot her wrist line at him, and
yanked him on top of his own pentacle.

"Aha. Nice try. But this holy symbol only *frees* me. I call
upon it to free the powers!" Black Brady gestured. The pentacle
grew. Mary could see it was made of spines. Then it flashed.

But Black Brady seemed surprised. "No! Turmoil in the mystic
realms!" The ground opened up beneath him. He fell - with Mary
behind him on the wrist line.

She brought her other glove up, and shot the other direction...
Oops, not a wrist line, just a flare! Oh well, this was a distress
situation.

And down they fell.

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

"Sarge," Kid began.

"What?" Sarge replied. "This isn't going to be about my randomly
going around and shooting people, is it? Because I really feel we
need to put that behind us."

"It's not that, Sarge," Kid said, with some hesitation. "It's
that... This thing you have. With Brad Pitt. It's..."

"I do NOT have a thing with Brad Pitt! I never have!" Sarge
barked. "He's completely lame!"

"And it's not just that," Kid continued. "Have you noticed...
that this thing you have with Brad Pitt... it only seems to come up
when the two of us are together?"

"You're off your rocker," Sarge said. "I find Brad Pitt
unappealing, uninteresting, uninspired and lame on every occasion,
including when I am at home listening to Miles Davis records with my
goldfish."

"You don't have a goldfish, Sarge," Kid said.

"He had a bad reaction to Miles Davis," Sarge said.

"You've never had a goldfish," Kid said. "Ask me how I know
that."

"I don't care how you know that! I don't care about any of
this!
Aren't there any other cat-related deaths in this town we could be investigating right now?"

"This isn't about Brad Pitt, Sarge. Or your goldfish. Or Miles
Davis. Actually, it could tangentially be about Miles Davis... No.
It isn't. It's about us."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sarge said, fingering the
barrel of his revolver.

"Haven't you noticed, Sarge? The way people are always mistaking
us for each other? The way we're always dressed alike... even when
we’re in civilian clothes?"

"I don’t own any civilian clothes!" Sarge said.

"Haven't you seen the way we always finish each other's
sentences? The fact that we've seen all the same movies... read the
same books... that we have the same reaction whenever someone plays
'Kind of Blue?' It's like... like we're the same person. One soul,
in two bodies. And the only thing that separates us is the way we
feel about..."

"I told you," Sarge said, aiming his pistol at Kid, "I didn't
want
to talk about Brad Pitt!"

"Someone mention my name?" Brad Pitt said.

Sarge spun, drew and fired with the speed of a greased neutrino
-- and yet, fast as he was, Brad Pitt moved still faster. Spinning
his hands with blinding speed, the actor deflected Sarge's first two
shots neatly, then whirred – his trenchcoat fanning out like a cape –
and caught the final bullet between two of the toes of his left foot.

"...lame," Sarge snapped.

"How... how did you do that?" Kid gasped.

"A little something I picked up along the way," Brad Pitt said,
letting the shell casing drop from his toes. "Unless you’ve learned
to deflect weapons fire with your bare hands, you can’t really date
Angelina Jolie for very long."

"Of course," Kid said, nudging Sarge with his arm. Sarge
grudgingly put his weapon away. "Guess you'll have to buy a new hat,"
he added, as Pitt fingered a bullet hole in the brim of his
fedora.

"Buy? You can’t buy one of these," Pitt said, returning the
damaged fedora to his head. "They're made on an isolated floating
village off the island of Phuket. The only way to get one is to prove
your worth by wrestling an insane water buffalo."

He sighed. "I'll have to ask Angelina to pick me up a new one.
But that's not what brought me here today."

He looked Sarge up and down. "What was it that made you want to
shoot me just now?"

"Your performance in 'Meet Joe Black,'" Sarge snarled.

"It's not that," Kid said, quickly. "It's... There's something
about you, Mr. Pitt, that makes my partner here... uneasy. And I'll
confess, too, that you... you trigger something in me, too. Something
that feels dark and dangerous. You appeal to my primordial..."

"We've met before, gentlemen," Pitt said. "Or at least, aspects
of ourselves have. I've been running into myself all afternoon...
and I suspect that just now wasn't the first time you've tried to
shoot me. For you see... I'm not myself today. Not entirely, at
least. And you haven't really been yourself... not since you were
split into two separate beings!"

"My god, you’re right! "That’s the stupidest I’ve always loved you!" thing I’ve ever heard,"
Kid said. Sarge muttered.

"And now," Pitt said, "we need to unlock the secret behind your separation... and mine... and to do that, we're going to need to skin
a cat!"

"That's the first not-lame thing you’ve ever said in your life,"
Sarge said.

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

"MacCavity is dead," smirked MacCavity to himself he watched
himself get squashed by a Yugo after watching himself as a road kill.
"Long live MacCavity."

The self-styled feline Wolf Burglar steeped back into shadows,
amused. Oh, this was great. This was even better than the Paper
Mache Decoy ploy that those super-spy agencies used [Just like the
Life Model Decoys of SHIELD in Marvel Comics, only using paper mache.
And, yes, this really has been used before in LNH continuity]. With
the help of Dr. Schroedinger's little device, the cat could just leave
behind a series of dead (or clueless, or both) counterparts as
distractions and fall guys. He hummed to himself:

MacCavity, MacCavity, there's no one like MacCavity
With his quantum duplicates, he can defy the law of gravity

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

"Dammit," Molloy cursed. "If I've said it once, I've said it a
thousand times. One does not simply walk into more doors."
He brought the walkie-talkie to his lips. "Where are you, Crumple?"

"I..." "I..." "I..." Several voices seemed to be overlapping
each other, as though Molloy was listening to the radio in an area
with bad reception, or to one of the Republican presidential
candidate debates.

"I...I...I...have...have...have...split...split...split," he
heard several Crumples say, in a manner that was at least as
harrowing to hear as it was annoying to read.

"In the middle of an investigation?" Molloy said. "Pull yourself together, woman!"

"I am afraid zat will be very nearly impossible," said a tall
man with a badly-written German accent who appeared just behind Molloy
in the laboratory. "You see, Herr Officer, Detective Crumple has...
how you say? Entered a room vith von of my experiments. And zus, she
has become von of my experiments."

"Zus?" Molloy repeated.

"Even zo," said the man, whom Molloy realized had to be Dr.
Schroedinger. "You see, Herr Officer..."

"It's Molloy," Molloy said. "Officer Molloy."

"Herr Officer Molloy, vhenever anyvone enters ze cat-schplitting
chamber, he... or she, as ze case may be… is schplitt into his or her component... er... Weltanschauungen."

"Their worldviews?" said Molloy, who had spent several years of
his military service stationed in the German Virgin Islands. "But...
why? And why would you build a cat-splitting device in the first
place?"

Dr. Schroedinger shrugged. "Search me," he said. "I vanted to
make ze cure for cancer. But, you gots to go vhere de funding is,
you know? And all ze major universities, zey want you to schplitt
ze little kitties."

He sighed. "And everythink vould have gonn zhust vine, eef eet
had not been vor ze interference of zat American actor and ze cat vith schpectacles."

"A cat with spectacles?" Molloy said, his keen investigative
senses tingling. "You don't... you don't mean... glasses, do you?"

"Zat," Schroedinger said, "is exactly vot I mean."

"But wait a second," Molloy said. "That experiment, the original
cat in the box experiment, wasn't it supposed to split cats into an
alive or dead state?"

"Correct! But zis haf moved far beyond zat simple prinziple of indeterminazy. As I haf said, ze current experiments schplitt
individual's into quvantum duplicates based on zeir vorldviews. In
ze kitties, zis typically means a divizion into der three bazic states
of alive, dead, or bloody furious."

"...Bloody furious..."

"Just zo," nodded Dr Schroedinger.

"And what about people who *weren't* cats?" asked Molloy.

"Ah, zat will be more complicated. Humans are less focuzed than
ze kitties. Far more thoughts in zeir heads. Far more vorldviews.
Und no conzistenzy in what zos vorldviews are."

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

Black Brady opened his eyes up. What had happened? He looked
around him. Darkness. Using his satanic magical abilities his hands
began to glow. Ah, a pit. And he saw Agent O'Hanrahan lying
unconscious on the ground. Time to finish her off. But before he
could do that he heard a meowing behind him. He turned around and saw
various cats emerging from the ground. Cats that should not be moving
around. Cats that should be dead. And they were staring at him. And
they were all wearing glasses.

Black Brady cast a few spells, but they didn't seem to have any
effect on the cats. And the cats began to circle around him. And
they began to jump and claw their way onto him.

Black Brady tried ripping the cats off of him, but every time he
ripped off one another would claw its way back onto him.

"Get off me! You stupid cats!! Why aren't you dead? I killed
you all!! Why aren't you dead?"

<<I'd say it's a miracle,>> meowed Habanero the Fourth of July
Miracle Cat stepping out from the shadows. <<A Fourth of July Miracle!

And Habanero just stood back and watched as Black Brady continued

to scream and scream.

One of the glasses-wearing cats passed Habanero an harmonica,
which the latter accepted with grace. He began to play a blues riff,
while several of the other cats – the ones not involved in rending
Black Brady limb from limb – rattled handfuls of vertebra and thumped
on the ground, keeping time.

<<Whoa, Black Brady, bam-a-lam>> Habanero sang.
<<Whoa, Black Brady, bam-a-lam
Black Brady stole a spine – bam-a-lam
It was a major crime – bam-a-lam
He tried to kill ol' Mary – bam-a-lam
That’s when things got hairy, bam-a-lam...>>

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

... and so Agent Mary O'Hanrahan woke up. In a pit. With Black
Brady, being swarmed by cats - wearing glasses. One cat was meowing
into a harmonica, to the tune of Black Betty... Maybe her sensors
were off. But it looked like justice was served.

Mary was without her equipment, but she still had her battle
suit. She looked up the pit wall. Twenty feet. No problem. She
jumped out.

She'd been moved! Instead of a hilltop with her equipment, she
saw a lab building. It had one police car parked outside - but it
wasn't Martinez police. The car said, Net.ropolis! Oh, probably
some private security agency. Mary walked toward the building.

Back in the pit, MacCavity the Cat turned to Habanero the
Miracle Cat. <<I wonder if the human even knows what's going on.>>

<<No matter! We are where we need to be!>> Habanero ran up the
pit wall. The cats with glasses climbed up after him.

MacCavity shrugged. <<To me, my cyborg minion!>> The cyborg cat
gripped MacCavity with its velcro paw attachments, whirled its tail,
and rose majestically into the air. As majestically as an upside-down
cat can be with another cat dangling off it, anyway. But the view of a
swarm of cats was fantastic.

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

"As you shall soon vind out!" declared Dr. Schroedinger,
snatching the pistol from Molloy's belt and aiming it at the police
officer's chest.

"What? Why are you doing this?" Molloy asked. "Hasn't your
experiment gone far enough?"

"Not yet," Schroedinger said. "For one ting... you know too
much."

"Anyone who knows me would deny that's true," Molloy said.

"Und for another... your presence here will finally draw out my
true quarry... de Holiday Miracle Pet known as HABANERO!"

"The Living Spirit of Independence Day?" Molloy gasped. "Why, Schroedinger? Why? Are... are you secretly descended from the
Hessian mercenaries who were defeated by George Washington's forces at
the Battle of Trenton? Has your family waited for generations to
avenge itself upon the spirit of American liberty?"

"Vat, are you high?" Schroedinger asked. "Zat sounds like ze bad
plot from ze pulp novel. No... I vant to lure Habanero here because I
um zecretly..."

Schroedinger removed a realistic-looking rubber mask from what
proved to be a somewhat less-realistic looking face. "ze... VI vean
vhe... VAPID VETERINARIAN!" the newly-revealed net.villain declared.
"Vand vit vas vlong vbeen vmy vdesire vo vapture vhat veline varagon
vand vcut voff vis vittle vkitty vnutsies!"

"What? That's horrible! Why would you do such a thing!" Molloy
asked.

"Vo vkeep vats vike Vabanero vrom voverpopulating vhe Vearth,"
the Vapid Veterinarian said. “VI vonsider vit vmy vduty vas va
veterinary vrofessional."

Molloy considered this. "So your plan to keep cats from
overpopulating the earth... is to create a machine that generates an
infinite number of cats?"

The Vapid Veterinarian narrowed his eyes.

"Vas VI vaid, vyou vknow voo vmuch, vofficer," the villain
declared. "Vnow... vplace vhese vlasses von vyour vead. Vhey vare
vessential vor vhe veffect."

"What effect?" Molloy asked nervously.

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

"The glasses – they're critical!" declared Dr. Annelouise, who
had just burst into a barroom filled with dozens of bespectacled cats
and good and evil versions of Brad Pitt.

"Yes, they could correct the vision of a cat with different-
colored eyes. But they could also act as a prism... separating out
the unique versions of each being!" the ophthalmologist declared.

The two Brad Pitts looked at each other.

"That's insane!" both said.

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

"The real truth," the trenchcoated Brad Pitt said, "is that I
had come to this town as part of my research into the role of a cat
burglar, which I plan to portray in Ocean's 14."

"Wait," Kid said. "You've already played that role like... what,
three times now? Why would you need to do research?"

"It gets me out of the house," Pitt admitted. "And it's a tax
write-off."

"Lame," Sarge said.

"In any case," Pitt continued. "I wanted an opportunity to work
with the world's most notorious cat burglar...and that's when you...
or rather, the you you were before you were split into you and you...
paired me with MacCavity."

Pitt sighed. "I suppose I should have specified that I wanted to
work with a 'cat burglar,' and not so much a 'burglar who happens to
be a cat.' Because I mean, seriously. What the hell is a 'wolf
burglar?' What does that even mean?"

"Clearly you've never had to deal with a stolen wolf," Sarge
said. "Because you are lame."

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

"We... broke into Schroedinger's lab. MacCavity, Sgt. Kidd, and
me," the good Brad Pitt recalled. "Kidd was along as a condition of MacCavity's parole. How were we to know that MacCavity had worked out
a deal with Schroedinger in advance? Or that we would become victims
of Schroedinger's machine?"

"But we know that now," the evil Brad Pitt said. "The question
is... how did you know it, Dr. Annelouise?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Dr. Annelouise said. "I'm the aspect of Brad
Pitt that has always wanted to be a female ophthalmologist,
specializing in cats?"

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

Molloy looked dubiously at the glasses. The glasses that were
supposed to split him into multiple versions of himself. Something
like what had happened to Crumble. Not to mention all those damn
cats. He looked at the Vapid Vetinarian and said, "Wouldn't it be
better if you only had one enemy to contend with, rather than three or
four?"

"Vno vmore vmart vtalk," threatened the Vetinarian, still
pointing his gun at the cop. "Vut von vhe vlasses!"

Molloy did so, and suddenly there were two Molloys! The good cop
Molloy and the evil minion Molloy!

"Vou vasked vhy VI vould vant vo vreate vo vany venemies?" the Veterinarian asked, and then shot the good Molloy dead. "Vor vhe
vlassic vituation. Voth valive vand vead."

"And bloody furious!" yelled the bloody furious Molloy, who
reared up behind the villain an punched him in the jaw. Vapid
Vetinarian staggered and dropped his gun. But as the bloody furious
Molloy advanced on the Vetinarian, the evil minion Molloy punched him,
and the two remaining versions of Molloy began an epic bar fight...
except they weren't in a bar. Okay then, an epic evil scientists lab
fight. Whatever. There were lots of punches and smashing each over
in the face with chairs and people getting thrown across tables of
mysterious glassware which promptly gets smashing in a highly
cinematic manner.

Vapid Vetinarian crawled across to the other side of his office.
"Vools! Vou vhall vot vtop ve! Vall VI veed vis vto vdo vis
vactivate vy Vuantum Vatnip, vand Vabanero vhe Vourth vof Vjuly
Vmiracle Vat vill ve vlured vere vand vecome vy vrisoner!" He reached
to pull the huge knife switch of his device.

<<That will not be necessary,>> said Habanero, who sauntered in
with cat-like poise and aplomb, and followed by MacCavity, who looked
around and commented, <<Back here again, I see.>>

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

Stuck in Traffic Brad Pitt growled behind the wheel of his Yugo.
Damn this traffic! Damn it to Hell!! Why won't it move!

And then he noticed a crazed person tearing down one of the
sidewalks along the street corner. Someone driving a Yugo. Someone
driving a Yugo very badly. Various people fled the sidewalk as the
out of control Yugo flew through it.

Stuck in Traffic Brad Pitt looked as the Yugo got closer and
closer and tried to see who was driving the vehicle. The guy kind
of looked familiar. Wait a minute! The guy was him! Or some look a
like? A Brad Pitt impersonator? Whoever he was he was getting
closer. Too close! He was running right into him!!

He was...

There was a crash!

And Bad Driving/Stuck in Traffic Brad Pitt looked around and
wondered just what had happened. Hadn't he been in an accident? If
so why was he completely fine?

But before he could think more about that another car crashed
into him. And he died.


--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

"Vat vhlast!" crowed the Vapid Veterinarian, beside himself with
glee as his feline opponent stood in front of him, calmly licking his
paws. "Vall vy vplans... vall vhy vickedness... van vnow..."

He removed a device from his pocket that looked suspiciously like
a nutcracker.

"Habanero!" cried the Molloy Who Provides Necessary Exposition
When Required. "Look out!"

The cat, however, continued to clean himself as a massive
Trailways bus driven – and completely occupied by – Brad Pitt slammed through the wall of the laboratory, flattening the Vapid Veterinarian
into something that resembled a breakfast crepe.

“VAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHTKLK!” croaked the Vapid Veterinarian.

“That’s incredible!” said the expository Molloy. “I could have sworn we were on the third or fourth floor!”

But: "Vou Vaven't vescaped vme vyet!" yelled one of the Brad
Pitts - who tore off his mask (and then also took off the glasses he
was wearing underneath the mask) to reveal that he was Brad-Pitt-Who- Was-Really-Vapid-Vetinarian-In-Cunning-Disguise. "Vand *vnow*, vith
vy vnut vuncher..."

And then another Trailways bus - also driven and completey
occupied by Brad Pitt - crashed through the wall and flattened Vapid Veterinarian. Again.

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

Agent Mary O'Hanrahan walked to the Net.ropolis security guard
car at the front of the building. But the car was empty. And the
cats that had been trapped with her, swarmed to the back of the
building!

Okay. To the back of the building then.

Then a bus crashed through the building wall - on the third
floor! Mary jumped up through the wall behind it.

The swarm of cats had made it up there, all meowing. Police
officers were swarming there too. This P.D. had a lot of similar-
looking male officers... and the bus had a lot of guys who looked
like Brad Pitt.

Mary's helmet gave her an alert. They weren't just similar.
They were *exactly the same*. The officers were all the same man -
and the bus passengers were all Brad Pitt!

Then a disembodied voice said, over the meows......

<< You see, that is what makes America great! Out of
many, one! >>

The men shimmered. Mary was left with a room full of cats,
one police officer, and Brad Pitt in a trenchcoat.

She approached the officer, and showed her badge.
"Agent O'Hanrahan, USIB."

"O'Hanrahan-Yousib? Married an Arab, did you?"

"What? ...No! USIB! United States Insight Battalion!"

"Use.Netted States *What* Battalion?"

"Oh, check with your superiors... What just happened?"

Brad Pitt came over. "You're not one of *ours*, are you?"

"Uh, Mr, Pitt, I'm a big fan, but what the ^#&! are you
talking about?"

"It's a long story. How 'bout I debrief you on the way
home? So to speak."

Mary shrugged. "Uh, *I* do the debriefing here. So to speak.
But that plan beats everything *else* that's happened today."
She turned to the officer. "Everything under control here?"

"Uh, yeah, got it."

"Okay, Mr. Pitt. Lead on."

Brad held out his arm. Mary took it. They departed, arm in arm.

--==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--

The cops eyed the walls nervously. How many more buses were
likely to arrive? After all, there was a core of truth to the old
joke that you could wait for one for ages, and then several of them
would turn up all at once.

In the silence someone asked, "So, how are we going to fix this?"

"The wall's structural integrity is ruined. It'll have to be
completely rebuilt," said Always-Ready-To-Play-The-Straight-Line-
Molloy.

"I mean, about all these quantum duplicates."

<<Be not concerned,>> meowed Habanero. <<The Vetinerian's
Quantum Catnip uses the principle of superpositioning to overlap many
tons of catnip into one small space. This is why it is so powerful.

[continued in next message]

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