"Shee, shon…. Yer gotsh to look at life like ye would look at a… at a…. wotshit… a bull, that'sh what I mean. If yer looksh at life like a big angry wotshit and grab it'sh sharp bitsh, then yer can't go far wrong, shonny jimsh" The old man folded forwards and fell head first into the water. This being the river Ankh, it wouldn't occur to anyone at all that the old man would have a soft landing.
"A what?" Sergeant Colon tilted his head sideways and tried to imagine a bull's wotshit.
"I dunno sarge" Nobbs shuffled. Corporal Nobbs fumbled in his pocket and produced a ragged dog end which he placed loosely between his lips and then lit in one swift motion. "Talks a load of bull's does that Old Man Hearsey, sarge"
"Well, I suppose we'd better go and find a bull or else old Stoneface will ask questions" Beads of sweat began to appear on Sergeant Colon's forehead at the mere mention of his commander. And off the two watchmen scuttled.
The old man didn't have a soft landing at all. But it wasn't a hard landing. If a curious person had somehow measured the landing he would have discovered that the landing in fact, went past soft, all the way past hard and round the other side. So in fact the landing was so hard that it was painfully soft.
"Bugger me, I haven't had a headache thish bad shince The Mended Bucket'sh shad fifteen minutesh"
The price of scumble happened to increase for a whole quarter of an hour. Until of course the landlord discovered that swinging from the second floor of his inn, held by a troll with the IQ of a left nostril hair wasn't his idea of an easy profit. Sergeant Detritus was a person who really needed to unwind after a day on the watch and he was also a person who believed in consumer rights. The Landlord was very happy to serve scumble again. Happy for far longer than an hour.
Old Man Hearsey unfolded and rose to his feet above the water of the Ankh.
"Sh'poshe I'll go home then shall I?"
Hearsey saw a crumpled body on the surface of the water.
GOOD DAY MR HEARSEY. The sound didn't travel through air but was sent directly into the recipient's head.
"I ain't shcared of you, mishter, I'm an old man of sheventy shicksh and I have sheen my share of wotshitsh"
The dark figure retrieved a glowing hourglass from a hidden recess in his black robes; there were barely a few specks of matter in the top half of the item. He tapped the side with a skeletal finger. "Clink clink"
I SEE… EVERYTHING
Death swung his scythe.
Snip.