They were all sitting on the edge of the world. A wizzard, a copper, a witch, a patrician, an orangutan.
And an anthropomorphic personification.
The watchman was the first to speak. ''So, what do we do?'', he said, a cigar burning away in his hand.
The wizzard tightened his fingers around his hat, his gaze lost wherever gazes get lost.
The witch grumbled, but the sound somehow lacked conviction.
The orangutan got rid of a persistent tear at the corner of his eye.
And the patrician said : ''We find ourselves an angel, commander Vimes. That's what we do.''. And he looked at the infinite space above him.
There was a pause. Then, with a shade of desperation in his voice, the wizzard said : ''We are dead.''.
''We ain't dead yet!'', the witch said.
''And what doesn't kill you...'', added the copper.
''DOESN'T KILL YOU.'', concluded Death.
''SOMETIMES'', He continued. ''SIMPLE STATEMENTS ARE GOOD ENOUGH.''.
Silence fell.
Then, you could hear only the soft screech of pencil against paper.
''The ultimate obstacle, in twelve letters.'', Vetinari whispered, as he wrote 'embuggerance' in the boxes.