Disclaimer: I do not own CATS, Macavity the character, or Macavity the song. I also don't own any of the laws mentioned. If I did, they wouldn't exist.

Warning(s): This fic is the product of an insane mind, too many times listening to the song Macavity, and reading lists of stupid laws over and over and over again. You have been warned. Much of the action focuses on two characters of my own creation. You have been warned again. Also, there is some mention of corpses, and the creation/disposal/retrieval of corpses. You have been warned yet again. So don't say I didn't warn you, because clearly I have.

That said, enjoy the fic!

The unconscious form of Phobos slid to the ground, and Deimos almost envied him. Almost, because although he was now relieved from having to explain himself to the Mystery Cat in front of them, he would have one hell of a migraine tomorrow. No one could give a fist to the head quite like Macavity.

"Now," the Napoleon of Crime said calmly, as if he hadn't just KO'd one of his henchcats, "explain to me what your partner meant by what he said."

Deimos swallowed loudly, and Macavity's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. He didn't like to see those in his employ betray fear, even to him. It was a sign of weakness, and he simply wouldn't tolerate it. Normally the cat would have been rewarded by a fist to the stomach, perhaps even with claws, but right now he needed this particular cat.

Besides. Even if it did show weakness, it was amusing to watch them squirm.

"He, ah…he only meant that, well, you haven't, you know…" Deimos struggled to find the words that wouldn't cause him pain, "since…well, the humans come up with such ridiculous laws sometimes, no one really cares about them so it would be stupid to actually try to break them…I mean, not stupid!" he amended hastily, noting the less-than-pleased look on the boss's face. "Just…not worth the time of such an important, busy cat like yourself?" The last sentence came out as more of a question. It took all of Deimos's willpower to get it out at all, and he waited silently for the ginger cat's reply.

To his immense relief, the Mystery Cat simply smirked. It was a dangerous look, of course (the black tom was beginning to think that Macavity was incapable of any look that wasn't dangerous in some way; perhaps it was because he was always on the verge of shifting into an insane rage), but less dangerous than, say, outright anger or scorn. He wouldn't be killed. Deimos allowed himself to relax a little.

But only a little. After all, he was still facing Macavity.

"You do have a point, Deimos," Macavity said smoothly, "The humans do come up with laws that have no real meaning sometimes. But then you say that endeavoring to break these laws is not worth my time. That is where you are wrong."

The ginger cat turned his back on the two large, pitch black toms (one unconscious and one nervous), pacing towards the far end of the alley they were currently occupying. His tail swished from side to side, his ears turning in every direction. One paw smoothed out his whiskers, and he let the silence hang for a few minutes before he returned to his former position.

"The song clearly states that I've broken every human law. To have this be less than true…it is unacceptable. I suppose we can leave those idiotic Jellicles to themselves for a while; who knows, perhaps they'll let down their guard and believe I've given up. We leave tomorrow."

Had he been in the employ of any other cat, Deimos might have asked where they were going. However, he was not in the employ of any other cat; he was working for Macavity, the Mystery Cat, the Hidden Paw, the Napoleon of Crime, the Whatever-Other-Name-He's-Going-By, and one didn't just ask Macavity to clarify a statement if one wished to remain alive. So he fell silent and prayed that wherever they were going would have a bit more sun than London.

All the rain was really getting irritating.

"By the way, Deimos, did I ever thank you for sticking up for me in that alley?"

"Stuff it, then get over here and help me out, Phobos." Deimos was not in any mood to be dealing with his partner's sarcasm. He pulled on the rope with all of his strength, but still wasn't able to budge what was on the other end.

"I'm just saying. It would have been nice to have some backup when the Boss was punching my lights out. Y'know, a quick word in there: 'Hey, he didn't mean that in a bad way, y'know.' Nothing too big, just a little support there." Phobos leaned casually against the wall, watching the other cat struggle. He could have stepped in to help, but that would have taken all the fun out of the taunting. At least this way he was sure the message would get through to Deimos.

"If you don't get over here and help, we'll never get this out of here and the Boss'll have both our hides!" Deimos finally shouted in frustration, prompting the larger cat (by one centimeter exactly, they had measured) to finally go in to help. Rather than grabbing onto the rope with Deimos, however, he opted to go around the back of the desired object and slash at it with his claws.

The mule's response was to shoot out his hind legs and then dart forward, dragging Deimos along with him.

Phobos stared after the two disappearing around the corner of the barn, then shrugged. At least it was moving.

Two hours, several poorly-aimed kicks and one well-aimed kick (to Deimos's shin), and many, many curse words not suitable for this rating later, Deimos and Phobos presented Macavity with one mule, its eyes wide with fright and pain. This was probably due to the many claw marks running along its body and the crazy look on the faces of the henchcats.

Macavity took no notice to any of these. As long as he had the mule.

"Wonderful," he said without any real emotion, simply turning away, "now bring it down to that lake there and we'll see what it can do."

Deimos and Phobos exchanged a look. Then they got to work coaxing (by way of hissing, snarling, biting, and scratching) the mule down to the lake.

Later on, residents of Indiana would notice a rather…odd sight. Encouraged by two rabid-looking black cats lunging at its flanks, and watched by a calm ginger cat up on the shore, a mule charged into a little lake with its eyes locked onto a duck sitting on the water. At the prompting of the black cats, the mule clamped its teeth down onto the duck, shaking its head to the sound of frantic quacking. It was a sight no one would forget for quite some time.

Macavity, lounging up on the shore, simply smirked. One down.

Law Number One: The state game rule prohibits the use of mules to hunt ducks. (Indiana)

"If I have to deal with another mule, I swear, I'll—"

"You'll what? Take it up with Macavity?" Deimos snorted. "You'll do exactly what he says, that's what you'll do."

Phobos looked insulted. "Hey, so would you!"

His partner nodded. "Never said I wouldn't. Both of us would, you know that. The only difference is, I'm smart enough not to complain about things where the Boss might hear."

Phobos almost looked like he was going to protest, but then nodded and conceded the point. That was true enough.

The henchcats were back in the barn, having returned the "borrowed" mule to its rightful owners. None of the humans were sure why the mule was so clawed up, or why it wouldn't allow any cats near it…

Now Phobos and Deimos were awaiting the arrival of Macavity. And had been for over an hour and a half. If there was one good thing to say about the Napoleon of Crime, it was that he was always punctual. Anyone bringing up that point, however, would also have to say that he was often early, and that anyone arriving after he may be severely punished. Two henchcats were expendable enough anyway.

Finally the ginger cat arrived, and neither black cat made any reference to their long wait. That would be suicide. Macavity eyed the two, standing at attention and each trying to look taller than the other, before nodding slightly.

"Good, you're on time," he stated. "Well, we have much to do. You will need wheelbarrows, of course, and perhaps pitchforks…although those would be difficult for you to use. Much too big. Hmm. You'll just have to manage with the wheelbarrows, and do without the pitchforks, I suppose." There was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he said this, and Phobos and Deimos shared a fearful, dreading look. Something told them they would not enjoy this…

'Something' was right. Standing on a street corner later that day, stinking of manure and appearing more brown than black, the two cats eyed a seven-foot tall pile of horse manure warily. Macavity, perfectly clean other than the dusty coat he always sported (for dramatic effect, he said, although some thought he was too lazy to clean himself), nodded in a pleased way.

"Good," he muttered to himself, "that's two."

Law Number Two: It is illegal to pile horse manure more than six feet high on a street corner. (California)

"THIS IS NOT A GOOD IDEA!" Phobos shouted from the other side of the fence. Deimos grinned and leaned against the wood.

"Sorry, Phobe, you know the rules. The Boss decides what we do."

"THEN WHY AREN'T YOU OVER HERE DOING THIS!?" came the screamed reply. Deimos's grin only widened; his partner's voice reached very high pitches when he was scared.

"We flipped a coin, didn't we? Heads won. I won." The black tom didn't think it would be wise to mention the "special" coin he had found, with 'heads' on each side. It was Phobos's own fault for not checking, anyway.

"THIS IS BOTH OUR JOB, AND YOU SH—AGH!" Phobos cut off with a pained yell, and Deimos sighed.

"Fine, fine, I'm coming over," he called, leaping easily from the ground, to a garbage can, to the top of the fence. He then nimbly jumped down, gaining the attention of all seven occupants immediately. One was Phobos dangling a steak in front of himself, and the other six were dogs.

The dogs noted a few things in quick succession. First, he was a cat. Second, he looked remarkably similar to the black cat they had been playing with for the past few minutes (only about a centimeter shorter). Third, he had no food for them.

He did, however, have a silent dog whistle. With a smile much to cheerful for one seeing his close friend being torn apart by dogs, he took his sweet time in placing earplugs in his ears, then gave the whistle a hearty blow. The effect was immediate.

"EVERLASTING CAT, DEIMOS! YOU COULDN'T GIVE ME A LITTLE WARNING!?" Phobos shouted over the howling of dogs, paws clamped over his ears. Deimos wordlessly handed Phobos an extra set of plugs, a few moments too late. The other cat took them with a scathing look, and made sure that he scraped his claws along the arm that offered the plugs.

Deimos didn't say a thing or even flinch at it. That was expected.

Macavity strolled in a moment later, his ears also plugged. He eyed the whimpering dogs, then nodded—an action which was starting to annoy the two henchcats. Especially as it usually meant more work was to follow.

"Now let us move these out to the street," he ordered, pointing to the pile of dogs. "This would be pointless without witnesses."

In just a few minutes, the pile had been shifted from a dim back-alley to the broad daylight of a busy street. Humans passing by stared at the dogs curiously, but they had recovered quickly from the whistle and were now sitting up, staring docilely at Phobos and Deimos. Stares only grew more incredulous as Macavity came out of the alley with a large textbook pushed before him, moved in front of the dogs, and opened the book.

"Right," he began, eyeing his students with distaste. "Let us begin with ancient Egypt…"

Law Number Three: You may not educate dogs. (Connecticut)

"Okay, this job isn't as bad as the other ones," Phobos commented happily as he trotted alongside Deimos. The other black cat looked at him with a grin.

"I agree with that, but some people would say that you're insane," he replied. Phobos laughed out loud.

"Yeah, right. I've been kicked at by mules, carried an enormous pile of horse manure to a street corner without any tools, and been attacked by dogs, all in the past three days. And you're telling me that digging up some dead guy's body is worse than that?" He laughed again, flicking his tail dismissively. Deimos shrugged.

"I'm not saying that. I'd rather be doing this than all that again—even though I didn't have to deal with the dogs," he added mockingly, ignoring Phobos's angry hiss. "But some people look at digging up corpses like it's disgusting."

Macavity, out of sight of the two but still within hearing range (as he often was—he found that it kept his henchcats in line if they never knew where he was, but only that he might be hearing them at that moment), snorted. Digging up corpses wasn't something they had done before, but burying them was something they had experience enough in. Making them was also part of their expertise.

As it turned out, digging up the corpse wasn't the hard part. It took a while, but the cats were resourceful, and had the constant threat of punishment by Macavity should they take too long. Before dawn, there was a corpse staring up at the sky for the first time in…well, too long. None of the three were affected by the appearance of it, really. But Phobos and Deimos were suddenly sick, thinking about how they were supposed to move it six feet up to the surface…

That took three hours to figure out, and by the end of it, the two were eager to clean themselves off. And wash their mouths out. And do something, anything to get the scent of rotting flesh off of them. Looking at bodies, burying bodies, wasn't bad at all compared to digging up and moving half-rotted bodies. The only thing that kept them going was the thought of Macavity having two new henchcats to bury their own bodies.

Noon that day, police entered a dingy alley, following the signs posted all along the street. Even without the signs, they probably would have gone into the alley anyway; the stench was overwhelming. When they got there, they found the body of a long-dead man, two grimy black cats hissing furiously and attempting to clean themselves off without using their tongues, and a ginger cat regarding them without any real interest. Above the scene was another sign:

"Corpse for Sale. Price negotiable."

Law Number Four: You may not sell dead people for money without a license.

A/N: You can't tell me you've never thought of this. You just can't. Or, you can, and I won't believe it.

The source of these laws was .

I might add more if I can think of something good enough, but don't count on it. It might just stay a one-shot.

Reviews will make me go "EEEEEEEEEEEE!" very loudly and kill the hearing of anyone near me in joy!