SALVE ROMA! A Felidae Novel - By Akif Pirincci Page 0,47
the triumphal arch. Titus, another emperor of the emperors who had always wanted jam on it, too, ultimately had defeated the Jewish people with his conquest of Jerusalem and by that initiated their expulsion from Palestine and their century-long dispersion all over the world. Thus, to the Jews the Arch of Titus is a saddening memorial; they avoid passing it. The old wounds still suppurate ...
Suddenly there was a shrill cry that cut the air like poultry scissors! Never-ending echoes resounded from the walls of the monuments. I was so frightened that for a couple of moments I could only hear the wild hammering of my heart. Another cry, a little quieter this time, and then an almost infinite whining chimed in the breaking dawn. Although these cries sounded somehow familiar, I could hardly calm down. The whole area had become a dangerous jungle from one second to the other, hiding a blood-minded monster behind each tree and every bush.
After I had been running headlessly all over the place, I braced up a little and decided to get to the bottom of it. An about 5 feet high pillar that had been broken in the middle seemed to be a pretty good lookout to me. I used the catapulting function of my strong rear legs, and within seconds I was on the pillar. Restlessly, I kept observing the place, looking for something suspicious or a brief movement. But I couldn’t spot anything in this varied landscape of ruins.
A new sequel of cries started. Still pretty frightened, I began to realize that these noises didn’t sound like a tortured creature. Didn’t just the opposite apply? Then from afar something caught my eye, something silvery-blue that simulated an antelope’s incredible leaps. The strange figure danced with itself between the remains of sanctuaries and vegetated piles of rubble, and it occurred to me that I watched the dance of a fertility goddess, who only appears at this magical time of night. How did I suddenly conceive the idea of fertility? Well, despite my old age I didn’t just have sharp eyes but also a freaking good nose.
And my eyes finally announced the longed for correction: These weren’t cries of pain, but cries of lust! And as for me: Don’t they say one is never too old? Or too stupid? Or too dead? However, this smell, that I knew very well but still hadn’t smelled in quite a while, reached my nostrils like the order of a ruler who tolerated no dissent. I felt weak at the knees, and I was animated with the sole wish to unite with the source of this jinxing odor.
As quick as lightning I jumped from the beheaded pillar and ran down to the rudiments. When I breathlessly reached the spot in which I had seen the ghost dance from afar, the pleasant daze of my senses grew into an ultimate frenzy. As it wasn’t a ghost whom I faced now, but a saint! And if that weren’t enough: She even spoke in the language of saints!
11.
It is almost a miracle how one is forced to transform into a breeding roboter by a steamy fellow’s love aroma. The situation becomes even more explosive when the object of desire turns out to be the most flawless and most gorgeous that a race or a species or, in the end, this whole freaking world ever created! Between half broken column bases, fallen pediments and burst mosaic pieces a korat rolled on the climax of her lust.
An old Thai poem describes my unexpected lover’s fur as »with hair roots like clouds and ends like silver«. She had a heart-shaped face, very big, awake, green eyes and raised ears. Her body was remarkably beefy and her body was very long, like due to a digital film trick against all rules of anatomy. Her race’s emblem, her short, silver-blue fur with clearly visible silver hair-ends differed from those of any other race of our kind. The tipping, the contrast between topcoat and underfur which showed with every movement, caused a reflexion of light on the fine, pointy hair, which created some kind of halo above her head. Although Korat cats have Thai ancestors, she was my perfect Roman goddess. Knowing also that her race was said to be lucky charms, what could go wrong?
»Tandem is heros venit, qui me tormentis meis liberabit«, she curred in a beautiful, quiet voice and rolled aside with lustily stretched limbs.