SALVE ROMA! A Felidae Novel - By Akif Pirincci Page 0,18

stay here and keep your eyes open. I’m sorry, old pal, but when I mentioned the sensitive tongue, the operative word was sensitive, I didn’t talk about the record speed at which this tongue carries dirt of all kinds into the mouth. And regarding to your tummy rumbles: Didn’t Francis mention some Spaghetti Bolognese with a hint of green? Always keep in mind that green is the color of hope!«

Although I didn’t support Antonio’s arrogant behavior and although I felt awfully sorry for the pirate right now, my current state didn’t allow the moralist in me to come out and play. To be honest, Antonio’s list of restaurants had already killed any morality inside of me.

Yet, it took some time before I was able to break away from dead Siamese’s black mask-like face with its widened azure blue eyes. This time I blanked out the big hole in her head, imagined how she used to enjoy the sun and the balmy air, and the lovingly rubbing of those whom she cared for. I pictured to myself how she, like the desirable lady she was, tested her impact on hotheads, edgily posing in this ancient oasis. I imagined how she had jauntily celebrated every single day in her life. But at the thought of the black nothing that she had entered, my fantasy slackened and let me sink into the depths of depression despite the urgent physical necessity. A last goodbye, a last glance at this wasted beauty, then I followed Antonio on the stony hill of trash, which lead towards an intersection.

»Oh, Francis«, I heard Giovanni’s voice behind my back. I turned around and saw him desertedly standing next to the body like the last watchman of a sunken kingdom.

»You asked if I had noticed any special skills at the victim when she was still alive. Now I remember one thing. Well, she couldn’t juggle a ball on her nose, but she was quite acrobatic.«

»What do you mean?«

»Well, these young chicks are all pretty limber but not even a circus monkey could have beaten this sister here. I have never seen a fellow who could balance on poles or the tops of the pillars so well. She was capable of doing a couple of full turns during a jump and then land on four paws. O yeah, extraordinary acrobatic, that she was. And gorgeous.«

He looked down sadly at the Siamese, and suddenly I knew that neither the smart-alecky Francis nor the vain Rome-expert Antonio nor any of the dirt eating pack at the Largo Argentina would attend the wake for her, no one but this scar face who got mocked by everyone.

5.

A lukewarm night in Rome means pleasure. This I had already guessed beforehand. And Antonio showed me that they could turn into a real surprise at any time. After we had left the Largo Argentino and had crossed Corso Vittorio Emanuele II with a suicidal sprint right through the cars, which kept flashing by, we plunged into Rome’s pulsing heart. Oh I wanted to kiss them, the many alleys whose cobbles shone golden in the streetlights. I saw the triumphal arches, which reminded me of entries to palazzos, well, even to utterly normal houses, promising a romantic as well as a scary interior. I marveled at the baroque churches on every street corner, which had once been endowed by churchmen who had been much more focused on earthly glamour than on Christian asceticism but still represented God’s glory in the world better than anything else. And finally the old sea of houses itself: yellow, ocher-colored facades with darkish green blinds, small balconies on every floor, and roof gardens with real jungles of pot plants all over the place. Who wasn’t able to enjoy themselves in this very spot, might as well blow their brains out with my blessing.

Antonio had decided on the Ristorante Piperno close to the Tiber Island at the Monte de' Cenci, where apparently they served Roman cuisine which had more to it than usual home cooking. Although by now I felt like a gourmet who gets close to a mental breakdown when he has to decide on a restaurant, the whole thing still seemed pretty hilarious to me. Not with the best will in the world I could imagine us marching into some location and flagging down the waiter with our raised paws. In this context I’ll skip the joke about the »cat’s table«.

»Dear Antonio, your man-about-town-show is really quite matchless, but can you maybe tell