Death's Son
Death was stalking the streets of Psudopolis. He was dealing with a plague of Scrofula*. He soon came across a small boy, no more than a baby, all alone, because both his parents had been taken. The boy could apparently see him, and, as Death started to leave, the boy crawled after him, unknown to Death. He crawled towards Binky and climbed in a saddlebag, where he stayed as Death continued to do his Duty.
*Needless to say, he had very little to do.
A cry from the saddlebag of Binky alerted Albert to the boy hidden there. Death had come back home, and Albert was putting Binky away. This was usually done by Death, but he always left this to Albert after the Plagues because he needed to check the settings of death.
"Here, now, who are you?" said Albert.
"WAHHH!" replied the boy.
Seeing the boy evoked Paternal Feelings* from Albert. Seeing Albert evoked Horror and Disgust from the boy. Albert decided to ask Death what to do with the boy, and so headed inside.
"What should I do with this, Master?" asked Albert, heading into the Control Room, carrying the boy.
WHAT?
"I found this boy in one of the saddle bags, master."
HOW DID IT GET THERE, ALBERT?
"I don't know master."
WELL, IF WE DON'T KNOW WHERE IT CAME FROM, WELL JUST HAVE TO KEEP IT.
"Whatever you say, master."
NOW, WE HAVE TO DECIDE A NAME FOR THE BOY, DON'T WE?
"Hmm. I had an uncle named Cameron, master."
CAMERON, EH? Death replied, watching the boy try to suckle, while at the same time pissing on Albert foot. IT SEEMS TO FIT HIM.**
*Paternal instincts: The need to take a son or daughter on grueling hikes in the rain and saying it builds character. **I am a proud member of the Scottish Clan Cameron!
Cameron had grown into a young man, and he had already started training with the scythe. He only trained on non-human things, because Death realized that would result in unnecessary questions. Today, Death was training on a Talker-Whale. They had evolved to have the biggest, loudest, most intimidating voice possible. And it knew every language on the disc. Cameron swung the scythe.
"No way I'm goin' wid ya, laddie!"
"Did I say you have too?"
"HUH?"
"What you think happens to you after death does. I just hope you didn't think you were going to hell, because if you did, you are."
"Damn."
"Yeah, you probably are."
As Cameron stalked off, he was intercepted by Death, who had been watching from afar.
GOOD JOB.
"Yeah. Clean cut too. Hey, Dad?"
WHAT?
"Can I make my own scythe and sword?"
WHY?
"Because you said that WHEN I CAN TALK LIKE THIS I would be completely trained."
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ABLE TO DO THAT?
"About a year."
OH. NOW WHY DO YOU WANT A SWORD? YOU KNOW I NEVER USE IT.
"Dad, I know all about humans."
WHAT?! HOW?! I NEVER TOLD YOU.
"Do you really trust Albert?"
NO, BUT WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH... OH.
"Yeah."
WELL, YOU DON'T KNOW ALL ABOUT HUMANS. NOBODY DOES, EVEN THEMSELVES.
"Too true. I was reading some of your biographies, and they do really stupid stuff."
I KNOW. THAT'S HOW I MEET MOST OF THEM.
"Some guy named Rincewind is pretty smart, though."
HIM? WELL... I SUPPOSE...
"Always running. And I've seen his life timer as well. Did the glassblower have hiccups that day?"
I THINK SO. WELL, HERE WE ARE.
By the laws of conversation, they had reached their destination in no time at all. While most people do not believe this, it is true.
"Looks like the other three horsemen of the apocalypse are here, too."
"Hello, Death. Cameron." said Famine. "Got any food?"
"NO."
"Hey, the boy can do you're voice!" said War.
"You aren't thinking of taking a break again, are you?" asked Pestilence.
NO. NOW WHAT DO YOU THREE WANT? he asked, heading inside...
In Ankh-Morpork, a wizard for hire cast a spell on the handles of an ordinary garden tool and sword. A thin blue blade emerged from them both. The person who hired the wizard laughed evily. Shadows covered his face, but there was a suggestion of ghastly disfigurement. Someone's gonna die tonight...
Death was stalking the streets of Psudopolis. He was dealing with a plague of Scrofula*. He soon came across a small boy, no more than a baby, all alone, because both his parents had been taken. The boy could apparently see him, and, as Death started to leave, the boy crawled after him, unknown to Death. He crawled towards Binky and climbed in a saddlebag, where he stayed as Death continued to do his Duty.
*Needless to say, he had very little to do.
A cry from the saddlebag of Binky alerted Albert to the boy hidden there. Death had come back home, and Albert was putting Binky away. This was usually done by Death, but he always left this to Albert after the Plagues because he needed to check the settings of death.
"Here, now, who are you?" said Albert.
"WAHHH!" replied the boy.
Seeing the boy evoked Paternal Feelings* from Albert. Seeing Albert evoked Horror and Disgust from the boy. Albert decided to ask Death what to do with the boy, and so headed inside.
"What should I do with this, Master?" asked Albert, heading into the Control Room, carrying the boy.
WHAT?
"I found this boy in one of the saddle bags, master."
HOW DID IT GET THERE, ALBERT?
"I don't know master."
WELL, IF WE DON'T KNOW WHERE IT CAME FROM, WELL JUST HAVE TO KEEP IT.
"Whatever you say, master."
NOW, WE HAVE TO DECIDE A NAME FOR THE BOY, DON'T WE?
"Hmm. I had an uncle named Cameron, master."
CAMERON, EH? Death replied, watching the boy try to suckle, while at the same time pissing on Albert foot. IT SEEMS TO FIT HIM.**
*Paternal instincts: The need to take a son or daughter on grueling hikes in the rain and saying it builds character. **I am a proud member of the Scottish Clan Cameron!
Cameron had grown into a young man, and he had already started training with the scythe. He only trained on non-human things, because Death realized that would result in unnecessary questions. Today, Death was training on a Talker-Whale. They had evolved to have the biggest, loudest, most intimidating voice possible. And it knew every language on the disc. Cameron swung the scythe.
"No way I'm goin' wid ya, laddie!"
"Did I say you have too?"
"HUH?"
"What you think happens to you after death does. I just hope you didn't think you were going to hell, because if you did, you are."
"Damn."
"Yeah, you probably are."
As Cameron stalked off, he was intercepted by Death, who had been watching from afar.
GOOD JOB.
"Yeah. Clean cut too. Hey, Dad?"
WHAT?
"Can I make my own scythe and sword?"
WHY?
"Because you said that WHEN I CAN TALK LIKE THIS I would be completely trained."
HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ABLE TO DO THAT?
"About a year."
OH. NOW WHY DO YOU WANT A SWORD? YOU KNOW I NEVER USE IT.
"Dad, I know all about humans."
WHAT?! HOW?! I NEVER TOLD YOU.
"Do you really trust Albert?"
NO, BUT WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH... OH.
"Yeah."
WELL, YOU DON'T KNOW ALL ABOUT HUMANS. NOBODY DOES, EVEN THEMSELVES.
"Too true. I was reading some of your biographies, and they do really stupid stuff."
I KNOW. THAT'S HOW I MEET MOST OF THEM.
"Some guy named Rincewind is pretty smart, though."
HIM? WELL... I SUPPOSE...
"Always running. And I've seen his life timer as well. Did the glassblower have hiccups that day?"
I THINK SO. WELL, HERE WE ARE.
By the laws of conversation, they had reached their destination in no time at all. While most people do not believe this, it is true.
"Looks like the other three horsemen of the apocalypse are here, too."
"Hello, Death. Cameron." said Famine. "Got any food?"
"NO."
"Hey, the boy can do you're voice!" said War.
"You aren't thinking of taking a break again, are you?" asked Pestilence.
NO. NOW WHAT DO YOU THREE WANT? he asked, heading inside...
In Ankh-Morpork, a wizard for hire cast a spell on the handles of an ordinary garden tool and sword. A thin blue blade emerged from them both. The person who hired the wizard laughed evily. Shadows covered his face, but there was a suggestion of ghastly disfigurement. Someone's gonna die tonight...
