Back in the living room, a very curious Flack and Tubbs(Who'd fortunately had a pair of scratch-free boots and a rip-free scarf handy) continue about what they're doing. "Y'know," Tubbs states. "There's sure been a awful lotta weird stuff goin' on around here."
"Yeah, I'll say," Flack replies. "First that kitty cat scratchin' up everything, then dinner disappearin'. It's almost like someone was tryin' ta pull a fast one on us! But who?"
At that moment, Moe sneaks behind them, squeezing the rubber ball he'd sneaked from the pound in his teeth. Skweegie! Skweegie! Skweegie! Flack looks up at his associate irritably. "Tubbs, would'ja stop doin' that?"
"Doin' what?"
"Stop makin' that sound, it's annoyin'."
"What sound?"
Moe quickly scurries under a nearby table, sight unseen, squeaking the ball a bit louder. Skweegie! Skweegie! Skweegie! "That sound!" Flack exclaims.
"It ain't me." a nonplussed Tubbs replies.
"Well, there ain't no one but you 'n me in dis room." the skinny dognapper replies indignantly.
"Then how do we know it ain't you?"
"How could it be me, ya numbskull?!"
Moe then rushes behind the curtains and squeaks the ball a tiny bit louder. Skweegie! Skweegie! Skweegie! Flack's irritation begins to grow. "Aw, stop messin' wit' me, woul'ja Tubbs?!"
"Oh, but it is you who is messin' with me!" an equally aggravated Tubbs replies.
"But if it weren't you," Flack muses. "An' it weren't me, then who could be makin' that noise?"
"Duh, I dunno, maybe Catgut?" Tubbs suggests. Catgut, who's sitting in the middle of the room, playing with a ball of yarn, responds with an angry hiss; clearly, he didn't appreciate being falsely accused again! Tubbs' face turns red. "Ooh, uh, sorry."
As he scans the room, Flack's gaze stops on the heater. "Say, maybe it's da heater!" The two dognappers traipse over to the machine; Tubbs begins banging on it. "Oh, will you quit that, ya big dumb lump," Flack snaps. "Now we got da noise and that bangin'!"
"Ooh, I gotta idea," the fat dognapper rushes into the next room. "Duh, don't go anywhere." he says, briefly sticking his head in the doorway. He returns shortly with a crowbar and begins to pry part of the heater off. The sound persists, Skweegie! Skweegie! Skweegie! "Hmm," Tubbs muses. "So that part ain't da problem." He then pries off another part. Skweegie! Skweegie! Skweegie! Then another part. Skweegie! Skweegie! Skweegie! Then another. Skweegie! Skweegie! Skweegie! Then another. Skweegie! Skweegie! Skweegie! He continues with this until the entire heater is in pieces. "There, that oughta do it."
Just then, the dognappers hear the sound again. Skweegie! Skweegie! Skweegie! "Wak! That wasn't it?!" Flack exclaims. The dognappers then rush frantically around the room, tipping over tables and chairs, wildly tossing things out of dressers, yanking down curtains, madly flinging books off of shelves, and shoving knickknacks off of desks. "Where is it? Where's it comin' from? WHAT'S MAKIN' THAT NOISE?!" they yell.
Katrina traipses into the room at this very moment, grumbling to herself, "Looks like we'll all be having cold cereal for Christmas dinner." She then suddenly observes the detritus in front of her and gasps in horror; upon seeing the dognappers running around the room, wrecking everything, her rage begins to grow. "YOU TWO LUNKHEADS HAD BETTER HAVE A GOOD EXPLANATION FOR THIS!"
"Uh oh," Flack whispers. "Think fast!"
"Uhhh..." Tubbs is at a loss for words. Presently, Catgut strolls up to him; the fat dognapper glances down at the cat, who gives him an angry hiss, as if to say, "Don't you dare!" While no one is looking, Moe quietly steals away out the door, still squeaking the rubber ball. Skweegie! Skweegie! Skweegie!