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arts / rec.arts.comics.creative / NTB/LNH: Classic LNH Adventures #228: Who Killed the Cat With Glasses? Part Two

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o NTB/LNH: Classic LNH Adventures #228: Who Killed the Cat WithArthur Spitzer

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NTB/LNH: Classic LNH Adventures #228: Who Killed the Cat With Glasses? Part Two

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Subject: NTB/LNH: Classic LNH Adventures #228: Who Killed the Cat With
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 by: Arthur Spitzer - Sun, 9 Jan 2022 21:11 UTC

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...

_
| | Classic
| | | | ____ ____ _ ____ ___
| |__ | [] | | [] | | | | [] | | _ \

|____| \__] \__ | |_| \__/ |_|\_\
||
|_| 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.


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