"I know that office, they issue passports to anybody."

"The cat then stirred, jumped off the chair, stood on his hind legs, front legs akimbo, opened his maw and said:

'Well, so I sent the telegram. What of it?'

Maximilian Andreevich's head at once began to spin, his arms and legs went numb, he dropped the suitcase and sat down on a chair facing the cat.

'I believe I asked in good Russian?' the cat said sternly. 'What of it?'

But Poplavsky made no reply.

'Passport!' barked the cat, holding out a plump paw.

Understanding nothing and seeing nothing except the two sparks burning in the cat's eyes, Poplavsky snatched the passport from his pocket like a dagger. The cat picked up a pair of glasses in thick black frames from the pier-glass table, put them on his muzzle, thus acquiring a still more imposing air, and took the passport from Poplavsky's twitching hand.

'I wonder, am I going to faint or not?...' thought Poplavsky.

From far away came Koroviev's snivelling, the whole front hall filled with the smell of ether, valerian and some other nauseating vileness.

'What office issued this document?' the cat asked, peering at the page. No answer came.

'The 412th,' the cat said to himself, tracing with his paw on the passport, which he was holding upside down. 'Ah, yes, of course! I know that office, they issue passports to anybody. Whereas I, for instance, wouldn't issue one to the likes of you! Not on your life I wouldn't! I'd just take one look at your face and instantly refuse!' The cat got so angry that he flung the passport on the floor. 'Your presence at the funeral is cancelled, the cat continued in an official voice. 'Kindly return to your place of residence.' And he barked through the door: 'Azazello!'

At his call a small man ran out to the front hall, limping, sheathed in black tights, with a knife tucked into his leather belt, red-haired, with a yellow fang and with albugo in his left eye.

Poplavsky felt he could not get enough air, rose from his seat and backed away, clutching his heart.

'See him off, Azazello!' the cat ordered and left the hall.

'Poplavsky,' the other twanged softly, 'I hope everything's understood now?'

Poplavsky nodded."

-- Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita