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). It's a NTB story with some LNH characters, and
some of Scott's SW2010 characters thrown into the mix. And Brad Pitt also shows
up.

But what is it?

So, there's this cat in the middle of the road -- a cat with glasses. A dead
cat with glasses -- but is it -- MURDER???!!!!! (I mean maybe the title is
referring to some standup comedian who killed the cat with glasses with their
hilarious jokes? Perhaps?)

Anyways...

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|_| OF NET.HEROES

ADVENTURES #227

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

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

RACC-Con/NTB/SW10: Who Murdered The Cat With Glasses?

'Who Murdered The Cat With Glasses?'

Written by and copyright 2012
Arthur Spitzer, Rob Rogers, Saxon Brenton and Scott Eiler
A story for RACC-Con 2012

----------

It was a dark and stormy night. A cat lay in the middle of the
road. A cat with glasses. The wind howled and the rain pounded,
heedless of the poor, pitiful form that had been reduced to road kill.

Actually, no, that wasn't quite true. There wasn't a cat with
glasses. There were several.

That was more or less the nub of the problem.

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

In the lab up the hill, Doktor Schroedinger looked through
his viewing machine. "Ahh, sehr gut. Und I see zhis is one
of *my* catz." The cat was wearing glasses.

"Und now, der critical moment. Zhall it live, or die, or...
zomething in between? Worldz zhall zplit based on der
anzwer." The Doktor turned off his viewer.

"Und zo it beginz."

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

"Poor bugger," Detective Crumple murmured, squatting down to
stroke the whiskers of the cat as two other officers drew a cloth over
the body. "Physics got 'im."

"Well... yeah," Officer Molloy said, waiting for Crumple to stand
before handing her a cup of coffee. "I mean... cat meets bumper.
Meeting doesn't go so well. End of cat. That's more or less how
these things go, isn't it?"

Crumple stared at the officer. "Ever take physics, Molloy?"

"I was a poetry major, ma'am."

"How about geometry?"

"I know my shapes, if that's what you mean."

"Okay, then," Crumple said, taking a sip of her coffee. She
nodded at the body. "Highway Patrol puts the initial impact of
the vehicle against the cat... there," she said. "Skid marks left
by the vehicle indicate that it had been over... there... exactly
thirty seconds earlier. And the cat's body... is here. See
anything unusual about that?"

Hoping that the question was, as so many of Detective Crumple's
questions were, rhetorical, Molloy waited, taking an extra-long sip of
coffee to avoid having to say anything.

"Perfect. Right. Triangle," Crumple said. "This was no
accident."

"You think somebody killed this cat on purpose?" Molloy asked.
Repeating someone else's statement was, he found, often an effective
way of pretending to convey information. "Why? I mean sure, lots of
people don't like cats."

"You know, this used to be my beat," Crumple said, staring at the
blocks of office buildings, university dormitories and fly-by-night
research laboratories surrounding them. "Quiet place. Occasional
trouble with dealers, a few pimps from time to time. But the ones who
gave me the most trouble? The physicists."

Molloy spat, a long, glistening arc of coffee that hung in the
air for a moment like a beige rainbow.

"Physicists?" he asked.

"Gets boring in those labs, late at night," Crumple said, as the
pair of paramedics gently lifted the fallen cat and dropped it into a
green plastic garbage bag. "People do... unusual things. Things that
might seem unbelievable to anyone who's never spent fifteen years of
their life chasing a dissertation that simply refuses to show its face
to the world."

"Like give glasses to cats?" Molloy asked.

"Like make bets," Crumple said. "Bets on scientific postulates.
Bets on hypothetical questions. See that box over there?"

Molloy stared at a greenish crate, halfway open, that lay in the
weeds along the side of the road.

"That," he said, "is a box."

"Check it for hairs," Crumple said. "Feline hairs. Because it's
my be life that our friend , the late Mr. Felix – or whoever he was –
was in that box. Or perhaps he wasn't. For a long time. And now...
now he most definitely is not. And that allowed someone to collect on
a bet."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" said Molloy, who had
no earthly idea what Detective Crumple was saying.

"I'm saying our investigation should begin," she said, "with a
visit to the office of Dr. Schroedinger."

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

"It was a hit," said the cop grimly.

It was another street, another dead cat. And only a few blocks
away, which may have made it either less or more suspicious.

His partner looked at him. "I know this cat, said the first cop.
"MacCavity. Sometimes calls himself 'The Wolf Burglar'."

"A bit pretentious," observed Sgt. Kidd, dubiously.

"Yeah, it is. Anyway, there was word out earlier this evening
of a break in at the university labs. The description matched
MacCavity." He frowned, "But he has a better reputation for stealth
than that."

"Maybe he's getting older and slower?"

"Could be. He's been around for over thirteen years."

"That's pretty old, in cat years."

"It is," agreed the first cop.

"One last caper, to prove he still had it, and he couldn't cut
the
mustard," mused Sgt Kidd.

"He was seen, was chased, and run down like road kill? That
sounds more like a mob hit." The first cop frowned as he stared at
the face of the dead cat. "Hold up a second." He reached down and
pulled. The face of MacCavity turned out to be mask. The so-called
'wolf burglar' was revealed as: some other cat, who was wearing
glasses.

They stared. "How could he be wearing a mask that looked
realistic when he was wearing glasses underneath?"

The first cop responded. "Yeah, I know. He can either wear a
realistic mask, or glasses. Can't have both."

Kidd mused. "But what about those, y'know, Schrodinger cats?
You put 'em in a box, and they're either alive or dead, but you don't
know which. So they're really both."

"Oh, so you think someone put this cat in a box?"

"No, no! This cat can wear glasses *and* a mask, because we
still don't know who he is!"

Sgt. Kidd felt around the cat's neck, and found a seam. He
pulled the head. It popped out.

A tiny robotic head with binoculars and a speaker rose out the
neck socket. "Ah, you have seen through my plan for a bionic cat.
You'll be glad to know, several other extremities are programmed in a
different manner."

The cat reared up on its hind legs and tail. Its front paws
popped off. A blade popped out of each socket.

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

"He was a dark and stormy knight..." said Kid.

"What the hell are you talking about?" said Sarge staring at his
fellow cop.

"I dunno. Just thinking about this screenplay I'm writing,"
said Kid.

"Quit fooling around! We're here to solve a murder! Who
murdered this cat? This cat with glasses!!!" said Sarge in a very
serious voice. A serious voice that you only ever use when you're
investigating a cat who has been murdered that wears glasses.

"Yeah, I know. But wouldn't that be a cool movie?"

"No it wouldn't. It wouldn't be a cool movie!"

On 2022-01-02 13:14, Arthur Spitzer wrote:
> --==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--
>
> In a private room at the Martinez Police Department, Mary
> O'Hanrahan entered death, cats, spines, and glasses into her uplink.
> As search terms, that is. The results said nothing about glasses.
> But it did seem, Contra Costa County of California had a recent
> history of animal sacrifice - and it was the home base for Black
> Brady, the Spine of Satan.
>
> Time to go hunting spines, Mary thought. She'd topped up the
> power levels of her battle suit, just in case.
>
> She slammed the data stick with information relating to the
> Black Brady case into the USIB port of her suit and waited for the
> rush of data to fill her headset monitor.
>
> There it was, she thought, moments later. Spines. Loads and
> loads of spines.
>
> Tingling.

Hmpf, I have trouble figuring out what I wrote and what everyone else
did. Yeah, this was obviously my story segment, but I think I had help.

And are we really concluding this story next week? Seems like a
three-parter to me! 8{D>

--
-- (signed) Scott Eiler 8{D> ------ http://www.eilertech.com/ -------

"Your Royal Highness, instead of devoting yourself exclusively
to Minerva, should, instead, rather offer sacrifice at the altars
of Bacchus, Orpheus, Venus, and Morpheus."

- Advice to Prince Duarte of Portugal. From "The golden age of
Prince Henry the Navigator", by Joaquim Pedro Oliveira Martins.
Coming soon to Project Gutenberg.

On Sunday, January 2, 2022 at 2:42:03 PM UTC-7, powern...@gmail.com wrote:
> On 2022-01-02 13:14, Arthur Spitzer wrote:
> > --==### !RACC-Con 2012! ###==--
> >
> > In a private room at the Martinez Police Department, Mary
> > O'Hanrahan entered death, cats, spines, and glasses into her uplink.
> > As search terms, that is. The results said nothing about glasses.
> > But it did seem, Contra Costa County of California had a recent
> > history of animal sacrifice - and it was the home base for Black
> > Brady, the Spine of Satan.
> >
> > Time to go hunting spines, Mary thought. She'd topped up the
> > power levels of her battle suit, just in case.
> >
> > She slammed the data stick with information relating to the
> > Black Brady case into the USIB port of her suit and waited for the
> > rush of data to fill her headset monitor.
> >
> > There it was, she thought, moments later. Spines. Loads and
> > loads of spines.
> >
> > Tingling.
> Hmpf, I have trouble figuring out what I wrote and what everyone else
> did. Yeah, this was obviously my story segment, but I think I had help.
>
> And are we really concluding this story next week? Seems like a
> three-parter to me! 8{D>
>

Well, this part is half of the issue...

Arthur "So..." Spitzer