AUTHOR'S NOTE: Something a little different here. Be kind folks, this is my first attempt at a Top Cat story. Now for the legal stuff. Top Cat, Benny, Choo-Choo, Brain, Fancy, Spook, and Officer Dibble belong to Hanna-Barbera. Anyone else you encounter in the fanfic is mine (though there is a bit of a gray area with Calvin Collins; if you've read my Impossibles fanfic, you will remember I use this as Coil Man's real name. This is a bit of a crossover, but it's more along the lines of a "pre-Impossibles" story, meaning Coil Man is younger, he doesn't have his superpowers yet, and the other two aren't in this). Also this story is supposed to be set in 1961 (which would make this a bit of an AU where my Impossibles stories are concerned). Anyway, onto the fanfic!

The sun rose over the large, New York skyscrapers. It was another day in the city, bustling with activity. Over in Hoagy's Alley, Top Cat (TC to his friends) woke up, yawned and stretched, climbing out of his trash can.

"Boy, oh boy, what a night," he said, groggily. "I gotta stop going to those all night drive in movies. Of course last night was an exception. After all, who could walk out on a Gina Lollapalooza film festival? Now she is worth sitting on the drive in fence for three hours straight! And also worth the splinters in the rear end. Boy, could I use a good cup of coffee about now."

TC grabbed the lid of his trash can, and snagged a second lid, and then he began banging them together. Exactly one second later, TC's gang appeared.

"What took you guys so long?" TC asked.

"Sorry, TC," Choo-Choo said. "But we hit a red light on the corner of fifth and main."

"Excuses, excuses," TC said. "All right, men, we are gonna get us a cup of coffee. Now then, who wants to donate first to our coffee fund?"

"But, TC," Fancy said. "Don't you remember, we donated all the money we had for the Gina Lollapalooza film festival last night."

"Yeah, like, I'm still picking splinters out of my tush," Spook said, yanking a splinter from his rear end.

"Duh, I've got money TC," Brain said. "I got seventy-five cents."

"Seventy-five cents," TC said. "That'll be enough to get us all a cup of coffee. Now, let me see . . . . . where can we get a good cup of coffee?"

"Duh, what about Schultz's Delicatessen?" Brain suggested, naming one of the gang's hangouts.

"Nah, I can't stand Schultz's coffee," TC said. "It has the consistency of molten tar."

"Yeah," Choo-Choo agreed. "And it tastes like mud."

"Maybe that's where they got the idea of calling a cup of coffee a cup of mud," Benny said. "What about the diner on eighth street, TC?"

"Nah, they won't serve cats," TC said. "Something about attracting mice there."

"Duh, maybe we could buy some instant at the grocery store," Brain said. "You know they say Maxwell House is good the last drop."

"Good thinking Brain," TC said, sarcastically. "And just how are we going to brew it without a percolator?"

"I know, TC," Fancy said. "We could try that new coffee chain, Apollo's. Nancy says their coffee is to die for."

"Nancy?" TC repeated. "New girlfriend, huh?"

"Yeah," Fancy said.

"Hmm," TC said, thoughtfully. "Fancy and Nancy. You guys make a cute couple already. So what kind of a place is Apollo's, Fancy?"

"Nancy said it was a gourmet coffee place," Fancy replied.

"Well, I'm a gourmet," TC said. "Let's check this out."

So the six cats left the alley, and walked to Apollo's Coffee House. Or at least one of them. The city had about ten of them in total. TC walked up to the man behind the counter, and tipped his hat.

"Good morning, my good man," he said. "Six cups of your finest coffee."

"Ya want dat in regular, large, or Whoa Mama?" the man behind the counter asked.

"Regular's fine," TC said. "After all, we wouldn't want to be bouncing all over the city streets from a caffeine buzz, now do we?"

"Okay, dat'll be twenty-tree dollars and seventy cents."

"What?!"

"You heard me, pal. Twenty-three seventy."

"Twenty-three seventy for coffee?!"

"Ya just bought six cups, mac. It's tree ninety-five. Large is four ninety-five, and Whoa Mama is six ninety-five."

"A little steep, don't you think?"

"It's gourmet."

(incidentally, the guy behind the counter pronounced the word as it's spelled)

"Well . . . . ." TC said, thoughtfully. "What can I get for seventy-five cents?"

"Gee, I dunno," the guy behind the counter said. "Lemme check. Hey Eddie! What can ya get here for seventy-five cents?"

"What?!" another clerk shouted. He walked over to the counter and looked at TC and the first clerk.

"Dis guy asked me what he can get for seventy-five cents," he said.

"Oh that's rich!" Eddie shouted, and then he began to laugh hysterically. "That's a good one! Seventy-five cents! What a great joke! Ha, ha, ha, ha!"

Eddie then realized that TC wasn't laughing. He was just standing there, looking a bit confused.

"Oh my gosh, you're serious," Eddie said. "Well, errrmmm . . . . for seventy-five cents, you can get like a two second whiff of any of our coffees."

"That's it?" TC asked. "You've got to be kidding. The coffee at Schultz's Delicatessen doesn't cost as much as this!"

"It's gourmet," Eddie said, shrugging.

"Let's get outta here," TC said, and he and his gang walked out of the place.

"What do we do now, TC?" Choo-Choo asked.

"Yeah, looks like we'll have to go to Schultz's after all," Benny replied.

"I refuse to drink molten tar," TC said. "I've got a better idea."

Five minutes later, a woman was coming out of Apollo's with a cup of coffee, when TC, now wearing a large, round button on his vest reading "Coffee Inspector," approached her.

"Pardon me, madam," he said. "But I need to have a word with you?"

"A word?" the woman asked. "About what?"

"About that cup of coffee," TC went on. "See, I am the official New York Coffee Inspector. I've been called in because we've gotten reports of the coffee at Apollo's might not be made from coffee beans."

"What?!"

"Yes, ma'am, we've gotten reports of navy beans, pinto beans, black beans, kidney beans, lima beans, green beans, and garbanzo beans all masquerading as coffee beans."

"Oh my word."

"I just need to take a quick look at your cup of coffee . . . . ."

TC then took the lady's coffee cup, and began to "inspect" it.

"Mmm hmmm," he said. "I thought so. Lady, the beans in this cup of coffee are . . . . ."

"The ol' Coffee Inspector bit again, eh, Top Cat?" a familiar voice, all too familiar to TC, asked. He knew it belonged to the local policeman, Officer Dibble.

"One hundred percent coffee beans," TC said, quickly, and handed the coffee back to the lady. "Here's your coffee, ma'am, but don't leave town!"

"Well!" the woman huffed, and walked away.

"Good morning, Officer Dribble," TC said. "I was just looking for a good cup of coffee."

"Watch it, wise guy," Officer Dibble said. "You know I could run you in for that scam!"

"What's the matter, Dib?" TC asked. "Can't you take a joke?"

"Some joke! If I catch you running this Coffee Inspector bit again . . . . ."

"I know, I know, you'll throw the book at me."

And with that, TC and his gang left the vicinity of Apollo's.

"Now what do we do, TC?" Choo-Choo asked.

"I guess we go drink hot tar," TC said, shrugging. "Because I don't know any other place around here where we can get a cup of coffee for seventy-five cents!"

"Hey, like, TC, I think I know a place," Spook said. "I go there all the time, when I've got cash on hand."

"Is the coffee any good, or is it mud?" TC asked.

"It's good coffee," Spook said. "But I gotta warn you, man, the place is kinda . . . . . well, it's, like, kinda beatnik, you know? They get a lot of, like, beat cats there, dig?"

"Yeah, jive turkeys," TC said.

"Well, man, like, they aren't all beatniks," Spook said. "Just try the place, TC."

"All right," TC sighed. "I figure anything's better than a cup of hot tar at Schultz's!"