Felidae

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If you really want to hear my tale,

then you must first get used to the fact

that it's not a pleasant story to hear.

Oh, pardon. Allow me; Francis.

I belong to a species which is

easily overlooked by humans.

Here it is, our new home.

Okay, Francis. Come on out.

The thing I hate most in life is moving.

But Gustav, my life partner,

usually takes no consideration.

He's a studied archaeologist,

specialising in Egyptian divinities,

but earns our feed by writing trashy novels.

Whenever he runs out of ideas, he moves.

He thinks it helps.

Boy, is this heavy!

Now where's the key?

Ah, there.

Heavenly! Just needs a little renovating.

Come on, Francis! Or do I have

to carry you over the threshold?

The musty stench hit

me like a sledgehammer.

Quick as a flash, I realised that

this unpleasant odour did not rise

from the foundation of the building,

but crept down from the upper floors.

It was an odour bouquet of pharmaceuticals,

veterinary practice, and toxic waste!

And I should've never set paw in the place.

Francis, isn't it beautiful?

This will be a blast!

Renovating, rehabilitating, modernising...

Ah, there's still a lot of work in here!

Where should the books go?

Yes, ah, here! That's a good spot.

And the litter box? Yes, let's see.

Oh, it's lovely here.

Look, Francis. Old stucco!

Ah, the china, where to put that...?

What I saw there was,

so to speak, my welcoming gift.

There he lay, a black brother,

all limbs stretched out.

Only he wasn't sleeping.

Can opener.

Can opener?

What do you mean?

Well, it was the damned

can openers. They did it!

They gave little Sascha

a special valve in the neck!

You mean humans?

Did you see it?

Sh*t, no! But who does something

like that but a f***ing can opener,

who good for nothing more than

opening our cans for us! Sh*t, yeah.

This is already the fourth cold sack.

You mean this is already the fourth corpse?

Guess you're new here, eh?

You moving into that garbage dump?

Nice place.

I always go there to piss!

No. It wasn't a can opener.

His neck is completely lacerated.

What do you call yourself, smartass?

Francis.

That's all I need! Archie.

- Cheers!

- Cheers, Archie!

Isn't this great? Honestly now.

Fantastic. This atmosphere!

I was fascinated from the beginning!

Really!

A doctor's office?

Would explain the chemical smell.

Don't you think that parquet is

a bit much for me, Archie?

But parquet is the least you can do, Gustav!

The absolute 'must'!

Carpet is only used by the homeless

for a bed underlay in the pedestrian zone!

As young rebels,

we still have our golden ideals,

even if we don't own a penthouse apartment.

But if we find out later that we've not

become rebel icons, what's left?

The parquet-fetishist was

Archibald Philip Purpur,

called Archie, and professional trendsetter.

- So until next time, Archie.

The only friend of my

poor can opener Gustav.

Besides me, of course.

I know it's a difficult time for you, Francis.

But I've brought you your favourite music -

Mahler's 'Resurrection Symphony'.

Sleep well.

Who are you?

Where are you?

Come here, my little one.

Just come here and see what a

nice thing I have here for you.

Are you looking for your old peeing spot?

It's been pissed on itself.

Home decor is here.

Cold sack?

How the devil - yes. Cold sack!

Let me guess. It's a guy, right?

Like the other four bodies.

Sh*t, yeah! How the hell did you know that?

Well, it's just a guess.

This time, in any case, it was good old

Deep Purple who went to kingdom come.

His neck looks as if somebody

was testing out a new ice pick.

One question.

Was Deep Purple castrated?

Purple? Castrated? Man!

Purple was beyond such sultry activities.

He was about as old as Methuselah,

but he looked even older than that.

Is that all you have to say?

These departures are

slowly getting on my balls!

Where's Deep Purple's body now?

Can you lead me there?

Why not?

Hey! What do you call yourself, smartass?

Blaubart! And I've delighted more

chicks in my time than Henry the Eighth!

The longer I trotted behind this proud

invalid and had to look at all his misery,

the more insistently I asked myself of

what or whom he had become a victim.

- Dead end!

- Dead end!

Please! We had them.

The typical nasty loafers.

Oh dear sh*t, Hermann and Hermann!

Don't tell me you want to rave to me again

about the advantages of your castration.

But I do believe you, boys.

Without the balls,

one carries a lot less weight.

Kong, why do you still put up

with these bang-b*tches?

Blaubart, old house cripple!

I can see your adventures in the gay scene

have brought you some success!

The little one behind you

is indeed a fine specimen.

Is he teaching you how they do it?

He'd like to show you personally!

He has the ideal position for you!

I see that you're looking for trouble!

Okay, you can have it.

But I assume you're more

interested in my friend Francis.

In that case, you need to know that I will

not stand by to watch an unfair fight!

So, how do you want it, old bastard?

I'm shitting myself with fear, buddy.

And as for you, sweetie,

you can bet your life on it

that we'll be having an interesting

conversation in private

in the not-too-distant future

that you won't soon forget.

So, until then, pretty ones!

Hey, Blaubart.

- Yeah?

I'm afraid you're slowly

betraying your own principles.

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