What a day.
Outsmarted again. Three times, even! Once in the morning when he'd come just a thin hair away from finally nabbing T.C. for answering his phone for the hundredth, millionth time, and another in the afternoon when that infuriating cat and his entire bunch conned yet another free lunch out of him.
That little weasel could at the very least cut him some slack and choose a cheaper restaurant. Just once.
Oh ho, but it didn't stop there. On top of all that, T.C. also just had to go all out today with his ridiculous petting zoo scheme. The several dozen holes left in the officer's slacks preserved the terrifying memory all too evidently. It'd probably be years before he could ever look at another goat again without recoiling in horror.
The haggard officer threw his hat onto the floor, too exhausted to even make an attempt for the coat rack, and threw off his jacket in a similar manner, muttering a few choice words beneath his breath as he angrily stomped over to his bed and collapsed on it, ready to put this loathsome travesty of a day behind him at last.
He would have been content to drift off into well-deserved sleep, but a soft sound suddenly started up right outside his window, just loud enough to grab his tired attention. He mumbled, irritated, as he rolled over on the bed, assuming a neighbor had simply left their radio on.
Heck, it honestly wasn't that bad sounding anyway.
Sounded like some flavor of the week crooner singing. The sort young girls these days liked, or so he imagined, old man that was (or felt he was, at least). The voice was rather velvety and charming in it's way as it drawled out poetic sounding lyrics of moonlight, stars and other such romantic nonsense, so Dibble decided it most certainly had to be one of those dozen indistinguishable teen idol types they had nowadays on magazines and such.
The strong accent sure made the singer stand out, though, Dibble thought with a yawn as he drifted off.
Only for his bloodshot eyes to pop open again when the realization hit him.
"TOP CAT!" he hollered from his window, craning his neck out onto the fire escape. It brought the singing to an abrupt end, and two shining orbs blinked and turned up towards him from below.
"Why good evening, officer Dibble, sir," came that oh so familiar tone. "Didn't know you were a music lover, sir. Have a request?"
Sometimes Dibble honestly couldn't tell if T.C. got a sick kick out of angering him, or if he truly did just live in his own private, detached, self-centered little world. Probably a bit of both, he decided.
"I got a request all right, wise guy! More of a demand, as a matter a fact!" he snarled down at the creature standing calmly on the fence. "I demand that you pipe down before I drag you down to the station for disturbing the peace!"
"Ah, but you're off duty, officer Dibble, sir," came the dry retort.
The furry pest's form was a small black shadow in the darkness, but those two golden, illuminated eyes still managed to stare back at him through a half-lidded gaze. They would have almost been unsettling had Dibble not known they simply belonged to the bane of his existence.
"There's no such thing as off-duty to a good cop, now beat it! Before I beat ya myself!"
Even though it was dark, Dibble could still tell T.C. was grinning, completely unfazed by the threat.
It was just like him.
"Honestly, Drizzle. Bank robberies, murders, jewel heists—an untold number of unscrupulous scandals and deplorable crimes going on tonight in our fair city, and here you are getting your long johns in a twist over a little late night singing."
"Squawking is more like it," Dibble countered.
At this the cat became offended. "Excuse me?!" his voice uncharacteristically snapped before quickly reeling back into it's usual composed tone, albeit with a coating of ice. "You better make an appointment to see the doctor first thing in the morning, Dib. Your hearing's startin' to fail ya. Typical for a man your age."
Dibble suddenly found himself really tempted to remove one of his shoes and throw it.
"Besides, mister late night killjoy. I just so happen to be providing a helpful service here," Top Cat went on, placing a paw on his chest for emphasis, though it obviously went unseen in the darkness to the officer above. "I'm givin' any fortunate citizen within hearing distance a taste of fine music. Embracing them with passionate song. Lovingly caressing the ear of every nearby weary everyman and everywoman with my soothing serenade. Wooing the night air with—"
"I'm growin' old here, T.C."
"Oh, well, I better stop then. You ain't got too many years left in ya by this point, do ya, Dib?"
"TOP CAT."
That's it. The shoe was definitely coming off now.
"Aw please, officer Dibble!" came a second voice out of the darkness suddenly, that shrill yelp unmistakably belonging to Benny. "Don't get mad at T.C. I'm the one who asked him to sing!"
The cop lowered the shoe back down and brought his hand up to massage his temples instead.
Of course there were more of them out there. Of course.
"It's just..." Benny's voice continued, sounding so small and nervous that Dibble was almost tempted to soften up a little. Almost.
"...T.C. used ta sing a lot ta me when we was small... and I.. aw gee, I dunno... I couldn't sleep tonight and thought m-maybe it'd be nice ta hear a little bit of it again. For old time's sake."
Top Cat's body shifted into a more relaxed stance on the fence, infuriating smile cool and confident as always. Dibble didn't need to see it in order to know it was there.
"There, Dib. Ya went and caught me," he began in a sarcastic tone. "Uncovered my true motive. How dare I, HOW DARE I, do something as unspeakably heinous as sing a lullaby?"
The cat placed a paw on his forehead and threw his head back, giving an over-the-top gasp in mock horror.
"Deplorable! Utterly deplorable! Cuff me, Dib, cuff me right away."
The cats heard a slap as Dibble proceeded to tiredly smack himself in the face and run his hand down his features very slowly and angrily.
"Can it," he hissed, then he turned his attention to where the sound of Benny's voice had come from. The smaller cat's eyes shone back bashfully from behind Top Cat's trash bin beneath the fence. "Ain't you a bit old for lullabies, Benny?"
The blue cat's eyes disappeared behind the bin, shrinking back in embarrassment. "Y-yeah, gosh, I guess I am. That's why I didn't wanna say nothin' until ya started yellin' at T.C."
"It's fine, Benny. I'll take the wrap for this one. Ol Dib's got me dead to rights," Top Cat gently interjected. "And I'm sure the sergeant will be more than happy to be woken up at this late hour of the night in order to be presented with a prisoner facing such a trivial—oh ho, forgive me— serious charge. No doubt you'll be promoted on the spot, Dib."
"I really hate you, you know that."
Top Cat smirked. "Aw, and after all those Christmas cards I sent ya?"
Dibble groaned, warily giving into the fact that he'd been defeated yet again that day, for the forth, confounded time.
"Fine! Go on and squawk all night! I'm too darn tired to care, so just do what ya want, ya little—ya little- ARGH!" and with that he slammed the window, marching back into his apartment in a huff.
"Aw, gee," Benny's voice mumbled in the dark at his leader. "We made Officer Dibble awful sore."
"Don't worry about it," the older cat replied, still smirking up at the cop's now closed window. "He'll cool down after a good night's rest."
Despite feeling rather guilty, Benny still settled back down into his makeshift bed made out of discarded old newspapers and pulled the thin front-page cover back up over his chubby body.
"Cozy?" his leader asked, prompting Benny to give an eager nod.
"Swell, real swell," Top Cat sighed, now sounding a little tired himself and able to show it now that Officer Dibble was gone. "But lemme tell ya, Benny boy, this is the last night, you hear me? Dib's at least right about one thing. Yer gettin' way to old for the whole 'sing me to sleep, momma' bit."
Flashing him the big sad eyes was all Benny had to do to make Top Cat groan in defeat, and Benny lay his head back down onto the crumpled up wad of paper that was his pillow to hear the rest of his song.
From underneath his blankets, a grouchy, half-asleep Dibble hated to admit it, but it was pretty nice.
Darn that T.C.