In the uninfinite (infinity being a myth) universe there are an uninfinite number of habitable worlds, asteroids, turtles... and not all of these are inhabited. But a good few are. And though they have a lot of differences between them, they also tend to contain a lot of similarities (like Morris Men-can't live with 'em, can't live withou... just can't live with 'em).
One thing that everywhere seems to contain is always the same. It is somewhat like a tunnel, there is sludge going slowly through it, there are beady red eyes watching you from every corner and the first ones ever built seem to have the same name. Then again, historians are the type of people who believe that the universe is infinite.
Death stalked through the tunnel. He was really quite good at it. Behind him came a long string of swear words that, to the untrained ear, would sound as if they came from the lips of a man in his late sixties, pulling his way through sludge. In fact, they were coming from the lips of the greatest wizard who ever existed. For him (and of course, Death) time had no meaning so he had never aged since he signed the employement contract to being Death's servant without reading the small clauses. Time had stopped for him in his late sixties. He was pulling his way through sludge.
"Buggrit, this aint no bloody way to go bout the business, it aint bloody dignified, buggrit, and wass more this bloody place aint fit for me, buggrit, iss got writin all bloody over it, I mean look at this, wossit say?"
Death turned around and gazed levely at the writing. CLOACA MAXIMA, came his reply, IT IS WIZARD'S TOUNGUE, AND YOU DO NOT KNOW THAT?
"Ere, that aint fair master!" whined Alberto Malich (or Albert as he was known to those who knew him), "I mean, you don't go round bein the greatest bloody wizard in 'istory wiv studyin bloody languages, yous go''a do more field work an at!"
FAIR ENOUGH.
From next to him came quite a high-pitched noise that somehow managed to sound like Death himself; a game of skittles on a toombstone-floor.
SQUEAK, came the Death of Rats.
"An why's the rat comin? Not that I object of course, but, well, wha' I mean is... emm... why?"
IT WILL BE EDUCATIONAL FOR HIM, HE HAS NEVER COME HERE.
"Never come 'ere? Issa sewer for Io's sake! A bloody sewer! I mean forget your local rodent-mourgue, here the bodies just don't stop comin!"
SQUEAK.
"What d'you mean?"
SQUEAK-EE-EE-EAK SQUEAK, the Death of rats pointed out.
"Your jokin!"
SQUEAK.
"Ah. Well in that case..," Albert sidled up to Death, out of earshot of the Death of rats,"...wha' exactly did 'e say, master?"
The top of Death's left eyesocket flickered blue, his equivalent of arching an eyebrow, DID YOU NEVER EVEN LEARN BASIC RODENT?
"Well, I can basically tell a yes from a no, but only if he nods or shakes his head." Death gave him a look. 'Never,' thought Albert 'enter him in a staring competition.'
HE EXPLAINED THAT THIS BEING THE FIRST SEWER, IT IS A PLACE OF DEEPLY-HELD RODENT BELIEFS, translated Death, AND IT WOULD BE SACRILEGE TO VISIT THEM.
Albert looked at his master. He really wished he'd give a hint of a joke, a slight curl of the... bits on top of the jaw. If Death was attempting a joke, he was making a very good job of not showing it. Death had the ultimate poker face.
Albert made another attempt, "Well what if the rats is right? What if we're actually not meant to be here eh? What if terrible dead spirits were to start appearing?"
WHY DO YOU THINK WE ARE HERE?
Albert thought about this. It was, he admitted later, pretty obvious. "Someone's gonna die in this pit, aren't they?" he replied after a while.
Death grinned. PIT, he said, IS A VERY APPROPRIATE WORD.
"Eh...?" began Albert, then stopped, staring in amazement. They had arrived at a door of somesorts, below them was a vast pool where all the sludge was swirling down. If Albert had known what it meant, he would proabably have mentioned something with the word 'vortex' in it. But he didn't.
PLUGHOLES MUST BE PUT SOMEWHERE, explained Death.
"What do we do now?" asked Albert.
WE WAIT, Death clicked his fingers. A large fishing net appeared in his hand. He settled down on the bank and waited.
Aaron White, plumber, was a happy man, who led a happy life, ie, away from his wife. He spent the days fishing in streams that no respectable fish would frequent. They were the type of streams where you could find large less-than-freshwater catfish making suggestive comments to fragile salmon. They were definently not the type of fish that would be tempted by a worm dangling on a string. So it came as a great surprise to Aaron when he found his float sinking under the water. It came as an even greater surprise when he found him being dragged in after it.
"So your sayin that all the... wossat bugger 'va word you used just 'en?"
EXCREMENTS.
"Yeah, them. So you're sayin that they all get washed down this, this... thing? What exactly is it?"
I BELIEVE IT IS CALLED THE 'PLUGHOLE OF THE DISK'.
Albert paused, appearing to think. "Sa bugger of a strange name for it, wha' I mean to say is it doesn' exactly role off your toungue, does it?"
I WOULDN'T KNOW.
"Ah."
They fell silent and watched the net. Death occasionally lifted it out. Suddenly the net went under-sludge. AH, Death's eyesockets flashed briefly.
"Wha'?"
Death lifted up the net. In it was a lump of sludge with an arm sticking out, limp. The lump shimmered blue and the late Aaron White uncurled himself.
Albert started, "Ere, you're meant to be dead, 'e jus' tole me bout that."
Aaron peared about himself. "Nope", he said in voice that sounded like to chainsaws playing a sonata, "I saam fine to me, smattera fact, I never felt better."
Death grinned, YOU APPEAR NOT TO HAVE AN AFTERLIFE WAITING FOR YOU.
"Afterlife? Ere, aintchoo...?"
DEATH.
"Ah. But I'm not dead...am I?"
NO, APPARENTLY YOU ARE UNDEAD. IT IS NOT THAT RARE.
"Oh. Allright then," Aaron felt he was accepting a lot more than he should and shrugged, "where, so to speak, am I?"
Death told him.
"Blimey," exclaimed Aaron, "this is a plumber's dream! It's the ultimate plug-hole!"
I BELIEVE SO.
Aaron thought for a while and finally came out with "Any problems with it?
IN WHAT WAY?
"Werl, I mean, has it got anything I could fix?"
THAT IS NOT UP TO ME TO KNOW. YOU SHOULD TRY THE CREATOR FOR THAT.
"How do I do that?"
Death looked at plughole and pointed at it. He then nudged Albert who'd been rolling a fag. "Ere, wha' did I do?" Then he saw what Death was doing and looked at the plumber. When you've been in service to Death for a while, you start to pick things up quickly, oh righ'" Albert pointed lazily at the plughole while continuing to roll a fag. The Death of Rats didn't need telling, he just did it.
The plumber looked in the direction they were pointing. "He's down there is he?" Death and the Death of Rats nodded slowly and dramatically. Death nudged Albert again who quickly flicked his head.
"And you reckon he might have a job for me?" asked the plumber.
EVERYONE HAS NEED OF A PLUMBER, pointed out Death.
"Only, I work for quite a large fee and most people-"
HE HAS NO PROBLEMS WHERE PAYMENT IS CONCERNED.
"Really?" a gleem appeared in the plumber's eye. He looked at the three of them, took a few steps back and dived into the plughole.
Albert watched him disappear, "Wossat 'e yelled?" he asked.
GERONIMO, replied Death putting the net into his robes in a way that would make most physisists' go mad and join a turkey-worshipping religion.
"Innat some foreign bugger's name?"
Death pointedly said nothing.
Albert looked at the Death of Rats.
SQUEAK.
"Too right." They trudged back.
Author's note: And there we are, numero tres! I hope you enjoyed it as much as the previous two (or as much as your reviews-which I am eternally thankful for-say so). Again, if you want to see something happening in one of my fics, let me know through a review or e-mail me at f_trench@hotmail.com Thanks!
One thing that everywhere seems to contain is always the same. It is somewhat like a tunnel, there is sludge going slowly through it, there are beady red eyes watching you from every corner and the first ones ever built seem to have the same name. Then again, historians are the type of people who believe that the universe is infinite.
Death stalked through the tunnel. He was really quite good at it. Behind him came a long string of swear words that, to the untrained ear, would sound as if they came from the lips of a man in his late sixties, pulling his way through sludge. In fact, they were coming from the lips of the greatest wizard who ever existed. For him (and of course, Death) time had no meaning so he had never aged since he signed the employement contract to being Death's servant without reading the small clauses. Time had stopped for him in his late sixties. He was pulling his way through sludge.
"Buggrit, this aint no bloody way to go bout the business, it aint bloody dignified, buggrit, and wass more this bloody place aint fit for me, buggrit, iss got writin all bloody over it, I mean look at this, wossit say?"
Death turned around and gazed levely at the writing. CLOACA MAXIMA, came his reply, IT IS WIZARD'S TOUNGUE, AND YOU DO NOT KNOW THAT?
"Ere, that aint fair master!" whined Alberto Malich (or Albert as he was known to those who knew him), "I mean, you don't go round bein the greatest bloody wizard in 'istory wiv studyin bloody languages, yous go''a do more field work an at!"
FAIR ENOUGH.
From next to him came quite a high-pitched noise that somehow managed to sound like Death himself; a game of skittles on a toombstone-floor.
SQUEAK, came the Death of Rats.
"An why's the rat comin? Not that I object of course, but, well, wha' I mean is... emm... why?"
IT WILL BE EDUCATIONAL FOR HIM, HE HAS NEVER COME HERE.
"Never come 'ere? Issa sewer for Io's sake! A bloody sewer! I mean forget your local rodent-mourgue, here the bodies just don't stop comin!"
SQUEAK.
"What d'you mean?"
SQUEAK-EE-EE-EAK SQUEAK, the Death of rats pointed out.
"Your jokin!"
SQUEAK.
"Ah. Well in that case..," Albert sidled up to Death, out of earshot of the Death of rats,"...wha' exactly did 'e say, master?"
The top of Death's left eyesocket flickered blue, his equivalent of arching an eyebrow, DID YOU NEVER EVEN LEARN BASIC RODENT?
"Well, I can basically tell a yes from a no, but only if he nods or shakes his head." Death gave him a look. 'Never,' thought Albert 'enter him in a staring competition.'
HE EXPLAINED THAT THIS BEING THE FIRST SEWER, IT IS A PLACE OF DEEPLY-HELD RODENT BELIEFS, translated Death, AND IT WOULD BE SACRILEGE TO VISIT THEM.
Albert looked at his master. He really wished he'd give a hint of a joke, a slight curl of the... bits on top of the jaw. If Death was attempting a joke, he was making a very good job of not showing it. Death had the ultimate poker face.
Albert made another attempt, "Well what if the rats is right? What if we're actually not meant to be here eh? What if terrible dead spirits were to start appearing?"
WHY DO YOU THINK WE ARE HERE?
Albert thought about this. It was, he admitted later, pretty obvious. "Someone's gonna die in this pit, aren't they?" he replied after a while.
Death grinned. PIT, he said, IS A VERY APPROPRIATE WORD.
"Eh...?" began Albert, then stopped, staring in amazement. They had arrived at a door of somesorts, below them was a vast pool where all the sludge was swirling down. If Albert had known what it meant, he would proabably have mentioned something with the word 'vortex' in it. But he didn't.
PLUGHOLES MUST BE PUT SOMEWHERE, explained Death.
"What do we do now?" asked Albert.
WE WAIT, Death clicked his fingers. A large fishing net appeared in his hand. He settled down on the bank and waited.
Aaron White, plumber, was a happy man, who led a happy life, ie, away from his wife. He spent the days fishing in streams that no respectable fish would frequent. They were the type of streams where you could find large less-than-freshwater catfish making suggestive comments to fragile salmon. They were definently not the type of fish that would be tempted by a worm dangling on a string. So it came as a great surprise to Aaron when he found his float sinking under the water. It came as an even greater surprise when he found him being dragged in after it.
"So your sayin that all the... wossat bugger 'va word you used just 'en?"
EXCREMENTS.
"Yeah, them. So you're sayin that they all get washed down this, this... thing? What exactly is it?"
I BELIEVE IT IS CALLED THE 'PLUGHOLE OF THE DISK'.
Albert paused, appearing to think. "Sa bugger of a strange name for it, wha' I mean to say is it doesn' exactly role off your toungue, does it?"
I WOULDN'T KNOW.
"Ah."
They fell silent and watched the net. Death occasionally lifted it out. Suddenly the net went under-sludge. AH, Death's eyesockets flashed briefly.
"Wha'?"
Death lifted up the net. In it was a lump of sludge with an arm sticking out, limp. The lump shimmered blue and the late Aaron White uncurled himself.
Albert started, "Ere, you're meant to be dead, 'e jus' tole me bout that."
Aaron peared about himself. "Nope", he said in voice that sounded like to chainsaws playing a sonata, "I saam fine to me, smattera fact, I never felt better."
Death grinned, YOU APPEAR NOT TO HAVE AN AFTERLIFE WAITING FOR YOU.
"Afterlife? Ere, aintchoo...?"
DEATH.
"Ah. But I'm not dead...am I?"
NO, APPARENTLY YOU ARE UNDEAD. IT IS NOT THAT RARE.
"Oh. Allright then," Aaron felt he was accepting a lot more than he should and shrugged, "where, so to speak, am I?"
Death told him.
"Blimey," exclaimed Aaron, "this is a plumber's dream! It's the ultimate plug-hole!"
I BELIEVE SO.
Aaron thought for a while and finally came out with "Any problems with it?
IN WHAT WAY?
"Werl, I mean, has it got anything I could fix?"
THAT IS NOT UP TO ME TO KNOW. YOU SHOULD TRY THE CREATOR FOR THAT.
"How do I do that?"
Death looked at plughole and pointed at it. He then nudged Albert who'd been rolling a fag. "Ere, wha' did I do?" Then he saw what Death was doing and looked at the plumber. When you've been in service to Death for a while, you start to pick things up quickly, oh righ'" Albert pointed lazily at the plughole while continuing to roll a fag. The Death of Rats didn't need telling, he just did it.
The plumber looked in the direction they were pointing. "He's down there is he?" Death and the Death of Rats nodded slowly and dramatically. Death nudged Albert again who quickly flicked his head.
"And you reckon he might have a job for me?" asked the plumber.
EVERYONE HAS NEED OF A PLUMBER, pointed out Death.
"Only, I work for quite a large fee and most people-"
HE HAS NO PROBLEMS WHERE PAYMENT IS CONCERNED.
"Really?" a gleem appeared in the plumber's eye. He looked at the three of them, took a few steps back and dived into the plughole.
Albert watched him disappear, "Wossat 'e yelled?" he asked.
GERONIMO, replied Death putting the net into his robes in a way that would make most physisists' go mad and join a turkey-worshipping religion.
"Innat some foreign bugger's name?"
Death pointedly said nothing.
Albert looked at the Death of Rats.
SQUEAK.
"Too right." They trudged back.
Author's note: And there we are, numero tres! I hope you enjoyed it as much as the previous two (or as much as your reviews-which I am eternally thankful for-say so). Again, if you want to see something happening in one of my fics, let me know through a review or e-mail me at f_trench@hotmail.com Thanks!