So one night Thriller was playing with a paper bag, as usual. However, this particular paper bag had handles on it. He managed to get his head through one of the handles, and then his front paws and most of his belly through the other, leaving him very, very tied up to the thing. In a moment of pure fear and panic, he started RACING around the apartment, paper bag clattering around like crazy, trying to get it away from him. It basically looked like a paper bag running around the apartment; he was a blur. Our normally mild-mannered girl cat, Toots, was furiously chasing right on his heels, either screaming at the bag or at him for being stupid and getting stuck. Joe finally caught the maniac bag cat and removed the noisemaker for him. Thriller sulked into a bedroom, eyes darting, ears flattened and looking ashamed while Toots was still yowling at him for being a dipshit. And now you know about what the cats did.
Cat stories are not entertaining to anyone but their owners, usually. I swear it was hilarious. In my mind.