You were just a regular black cat walking through the romantic streets of Paris, France. Suddenly, without any warning, something wet covers most of your back.
You look up—it's white paint from some guy painting a building. He looks down at you and exclaims in a stereotypical French fashion;
"SACRÉ BLEU! LE FEMME SKONQUE!"
Pretty much everyone around you runs away at a moment's notice. You wonder how this could get any worse...until it does.
"Bonjour mon amour femme!" A male skunk exclaims, rushing over to squeeze you and cover you with smooches.
You run from the skunk, hiding within a rose bush, highly convinced that he's gone.
That one rose wilting in front of your face tells you otherwise.
He's there, a massive grin upon his face.
"Ah yes, eet ees as Ze playwright Shakespeare said, "what's een Le name, zat wheech we call eh rose by any ozer name...would zmell, zat sweet..." The skunk sighed, leaning in closer to give you another kiss.
You gag—he smells HORRIBLE...but, also feels kinda nice. He does have a very attractive appearance, despite his terrible scent.
"Oh, Monsieur..." you Le sigh.
"Call me Pepé, si'l vous plait, mon cher amie.."
Le Ende.
