You see a fat black cat the size of a pig lounging about, holding a revolver and a bottle of vodka, chuckling to himself as he plays a game of Russian roulette. He notices you and turns to you, waving the vodka bottle in your general direction. Noblesse oblige. Would I ever allow myself to pour vodka for a lady? This is pure alcohol! He dissappears into the shadows, then reappears a few feet away from you, twirling his whiskers, revolver still in his paw.