It was decided that Gerp and Rodle needed a break from dealing with ridiculous teenage girls, evil kings, and the best friends of the aforementioned teenage girls, who, to put it in one respect, were quacks. So they dawned their vacation clothing epically. First, a three-piece suit. Then, their matching superhero garb. Then their science uniforms, which are lab coats and glasses. And finally bermuda shorts and button-up shirts with hibiscus flowers on them. Gerp and Rodle were ready for action.

And action there was! "Too many cats!" Gerp exclaimed. Indeed, as soon as they left their interdimensional airplane, there were too many cats. They were everywhere, mewing to each other in strange tones that left Gerp's assumption to be that they could only be talking to each other.

"They're calling each other by stupid names!" Rodle cried, outraged. He knew a lot about biology. He dutifully fastened his straw tourist hat and straightened his sunglasses before leaving Gerp in a sea of felines to tell the cat at the cash register of a nearby tiny Subway (they have those in airports), that its name was not Oakclaw and that was not a cat name. Its name was felis catus. Or possibly Princess.

Gerp followed his companion and grasped Rodle's shoulder just in time to stop him from spraying the cashier with a spray bottle he always kept handy. She was being a bad kitty. "Rodle, relax!" Gerp persuasioned, "We're here to have a good time! You can't let these things get to you!"

"Meow," said Oakclaw, wondering if either of the men would like to buy a sandwich.

"I'll have a five dollar footlong... WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ONLY COME IN KIBBLE." Gerp was infuriated. "Now, I'll have you know, young lady, this is a respectable sandwich shop where we come from."

"Meow," meowed a cat behind them. Its name was Goldstar, as it had gotten many of those from its teacher in kindergarten.

"Felis catus," Rodle corrected in as polite a tone as he could manage. "Not Goldstar. That is not a cat name either."

Goldstar was pissed off. He had just gotten off the plane after visiting his irritating relatives. All he wanted was a sandwich, and the dirty foreigners were keeping him from it. "Hissa hissa," hissed Goldstar, imitating the vampires of DeviantART's Rose3212, who is an excellent writer.

"Excuse me," humaned a human voice, "what is the hold up here? All I want is a soda. I don't eat kibble."

Gerp turned to look, and saw the most glorious superheroine he'd ever witnessed in his life. She wasn't even from a syringe, and he hoped she wouldn't leave hideous scars on his arms or kill him. She was obviously not from this land either, and he felt a certain kinship there. He quickly ripped off his tourist clothes and his science uniform to reveal his superhero costume. It was unflattering.

"One soda please," he deliberately told Oakclaw, and pushed a few dollars toward her. More than enough to buy a soda, but Oakclaw was unimpressed. Cats do not have opposable thumbs, and therefore do not operate with human currency. They find it racist.

"I could've told him that," Rodle pointed out to the narrator. The narrator was unimpressed, too, and did her best impression of a wet house cat. Mrrrow.

The superheroine (or supervillainess, as she was), was also unimpressed, making three unimpressions within the span of like twenty seconds. The two science-men were not at the top of their game. "Look," she said, "I don't have any cat money either. I'll just get a soda and deal with the law enforcement later." This was her logic concerning a lot of things, which was why she was a supervillain. She flounced over to the fountain machine, stuck her head under the lever labeled "Mtn Dew", and opened her mouth. It was the most beautiful thing Gerp had ever witnessed. Rodle had seen beautifuler.

But before the supervillainess could pull the lever, thus transferring the Mtn Dew from the soda fountain to her face, a cat in a tiny policeman's uniform tried desperately to fasten a pair of teeny handcuffs around her ankle, because that was as far up as he could reach. It was very cute, and since he had no thumbs, it wasn't working at all.

"Aww," cooed the supervillainess, patting the little policecat on his police-hat-clad head. "I'm sowwy, wittle guy. I didn't mean to pwovoke your tiny powice fowce." She straightened suddenly. "I really shouldn't be here. I have things to thing." And then she power walked away in her high heels. It was admirable.

Gerp was no longer lovesick, and this culture shock was gaining voltage. "We should go," he whispered to Rodle, who had taken to petting the cat in his little police uniform. The officer looked perturbed, and cats are really good at perturbed looks. "Our hotel reservations need reserved, anyway."

Rodle blinked. "You didn't reserve us a hotel?"

"No. I thought you did and by the time I realized you didn't it was too late."

"Well, that's water under the bridge, I guess, my compadre. Let's find a hotel not filled with cats."

It was impossible.