There once was a wench, or a rather wicked stench, that lingered around a pretty shitty house. The cats that lived there were not pleased, not even by the abundancy of mice they recieved.
Great Hornsby m'yowed at St. Francis, "won't you come purr with me awhile. Perhaps we can conjure up a way to rid ourselves of this old hag, so we can finally be the cats we've always dreamed."
St. Francis was delighted by the thought of it all... Feline Freedom was at the front door. All they had to do was kill the old wench and rid the house of that lingering stench. But how does a cat or a kitty move a bench? How does a kitty cat really kill an old wench? Vexed... he sat eventually becomming a nap.
When he awoke it was old Hornsby that spoke. "St. Francis ol' chap. The wench is dead.... seems she's departed due to a cat attack. ME-OW, Sir!!" Indeed thought Francis... meow indeed.
Thanks to this great act achieved by the cats, within several long weeks the triumphent cats were all dead to.... because without the old wench... they had no food.