I've changed my description of the story. Anyone noticed? Please tell me which you think was better.
Decided to split this week into two parts. Why? A) Because it's already longer than a full week, and B) You'll find out soon enough...
DAY 22- 8.30AM: IN THE HOUSE
"I have to say, ever since Nobby left the air has been quite cleaner," said Rincewind. He was looking a lot better after last night's sleep, and was sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of herbal tea Angua had made for him. It tasted like diluted excrement, but he naturally hadn't said this and was sipping it dutifully. He secretly quite liked Angua.
"Mm, I agree. Now all we have to do is wait 'till Ridcully goes and inhaling will no longer be a survival test," said Vimes.
"What?"
"Oh, come on. You could make a banquet out of the food stuck in your beard. Just go have a shower and stop being worried that someone might see your nob."
There was a slight pause. It was not often that such abrupt vulgarness was brought up over the breakfast table, but Vimes didn't care anymore. Dibbler wanted loud, bold and in your face, and so he would get it.
"If you don't mind, Commander," spat Ridcully, "It is better to be slightly tarnished, opposed to constantly preening oneself in the manner that you do." It was quite incredible. As the days went on, Ridcully's speech became more and more elaborate while Vimes' became blunter. Ironically, they were both doing it deliberately out of spite for the other. "Which, might I add, I have noticed has only begun ever since the Eyes have been upon you, opposed to being the filthy worm which you remain as otherwise."
"Archchancellor-" began the Patrician, quietly.
"And also, opposed to being afraid of people seing my knob, I do not mind! It is a part of my body, opposed to being something to be ashamed of other people seeing, as many people might suggest."
"I-I think I'll just go back to bed," said Carrot, walking away hurriedly.
"Archchancellor-"
"And as for yourself, opposed to being-"
"Archchancellor."
"Yes sir?" said Ridcully, meekly. He could go as far as he liked against Vimes, but when you were dealing with the Patrcian there was a certain invisble boundary which you strictly weren't allowed to pass(1). Italics are grave.
"You have said 'opposed' five times in the last two minutes. I think you'll find that 'rather' is quite adequate."
"Mm, you should try and get a larger vocabulary, Ridcully," muttered Vimes. However, his failed him when he put a spoonfull of porridge in his mouth. They really needed to stop Angua cooking- It was dangerous. As ridiculus as it sounded the monkey had been better than her.
And then it happened. It shouldn't have, but certain natural actions simply cannot be helped. He would regret it from his moment of leaving the house until the very moment he lay in his grave.
Vimes burped.
(1) No one exactly knew what would happen if they did pass it, but this was irrelevant. It would be like sticking your head into a tiger's mouth to see if it really would bite.
DAY 22- 8.45AM
"Brilliant!"
A nearby behind the scenes worker stopped fiddling with his Eye which was positioned nearby the dining table, and turned to see Dibbler almost leaping out of his chair with excitement. "...What's brilliant, sir?"
"Don't you see? They're dropping their defences. They're playing into my hands. I have them."
The behind the scenes worker, whose name happened to be Pete, had not been employed for his opinion or his inquisitive mind. He had been employed to look after a piece of glass, and say what Dibbler wanted to hear every now and then. "You have who, sir?"
"The housemates of course, you idiot! Picture this. Forget 'Vimes the Butcher', as they said in Borogravia. Nah, over here, we have..." He stopped to think for a second, before it dawned on him. He held up to hands and separated then as he spoke. "Vimes the Belcher."
"...Very good," muttered Pete.
"Okay. Somebody write that down! Now I want that and 'Nobody sees my Nob' put on a couple dozen T-Shirts and sold out in fifteen minutes. If they go well we'll make a few hundred more and have them on stalls outside the Moving Pictures hall."
As Pete scribbled this down, along with the other five nearest people, he reflected on the point that it seemed the OS studios had generated it's own new, original version of Propaganda.
"And put it on a few hats too. People like hats."
The T-Shirts were made, and indeed each of them was sold. It took a total of ten minutes.
DAY 22- 11.00AM: IN THE HOUSE
Granny Weatherwax scowled. She had tried so hard during her time in the house not to go into someone's head and force them to stab themselves. It wasn't due to any special rules that she hadn't already- it was more owing to the fact that she would only be able to do so once. She didn't want to waste her shot.
However, she was pretty close now.
"Mustrum," she called from the kitchen table. "I don't know what you're trying to do in there, but it's obviously doing just as well as most of your other projects."
"That's a good sign," said Ridcully around the corner.
"You think so...?" questioned Rincewind, rubbing the back of his head. "Wasn't your last project the 'Team Building Survival Week'?"
"She couldn't have known about that," muttered Ridcully, although he sounded slightly doubtful himself. His worry was soon abandoned however as he readied the frying pan in his hands. "It doesn't matter though. She'll be thanking me when she's eating a nice delicious pancake."
Rincewind didn't say anything to this. He just tried to make himself shrink further into his hat, which was already covered in yellow goo after a few of Ridcully's less fruitfull attempts.
"You see, Rincewind, the trick is... you've got to get the flip... just... right!"
Splat.
"Oh... damn it."
"Let's hope she'll be just as pleased about a nice delicious ceilingcake," Rincewind commented, quietly. "We've got enough of those."
"Well, she'll be thanking us at least for stopping that Watch sergeant cooking."
This was true. Looking at the sheer state of the kitchen, no person in their right mind would enter with intent to cook without a lot of forcefull people behind them.
"Mustrum!"
"Nearly finished, Esme! Do you prefer strawberries and cream filling, or blackcurrant?"
Another piece glooped down onto the brim of his hat.
DAY 22- 3.15PM: IN THE HOUSE
Vimes was in the pool. It was a good place for a bit of solitude, as not many were brave enough to face the icy drizzle which was the Ankh-Morporkian climate- especially while only in their swimwear. Carrot and Angua wouldn't mind all too much, but she was giving the kitchen a thorough and reluctant cleaning while he was sat in a corner alone in a fetal position. As for the Patrician, Vimes simply couldn't imagine Vetinari in a pool.
That left Vimes alone and in peace... apart from the millions who would no doubt be watching him.
And so while he was floating on his back, in a moment of small comfort when he could pretend that he truly was alone, he heard the sound.
SQUEAK.
Immedietly swinging himself around to bring his feet to the floor, Vimes looked ahead to see a small skeletal rat garbed in black staring at him with far too much interest to make him feel comfortable.
"What the-"
SQUEAK!
This apparition suggested two things to Vimes. One, that he was dead, and two, that he was in fact, and always had been, a rat. A small shock to the system, considering.
The rat scratched it's nose for a few seconds, and then scampered to the side.
Vimes didn't know how to react. Perhaps it was a test, a gag set by Dibbler. That wouldn't be too suprising, but he doubted they'd go to so much trouble training a rat to such an extent just to make a fool of him. Well, he didn't doubt it that much.
The rat was now climbing up the leg of the chair by the side of the pool.
On the other hand... perhaps he was just hallucinating. That was a more plausible answer. Lack of edible food and constant stress was causing him to see things. If this was the case it was vital that he didn't react, as Eyes were all around.
The rat scurried under Vimes' trousers which he had left on the seat off the chair, and then without much ado, began to take them.
That was one hell of a hallucination.
"Hey!" he yelled, leaping out of the water and causing puddles to be formed everywhere, which he would probably be told off for later. "Get off those!"
It was too late. He fell to his knees by the fence as the skeletal rodent ran through a small gap in it, the trousers succesfully tugged through just before he could reach them. He stretched his arm out through the hole as far as he could, but it was futile. The trousers were gone.
He rose to his feet, disbelief coarsing through his veins.
"Damn!"
DAY 22- 3.45AM: ...VERY NEAR THE HOUSE AND WOULD BE CLOSER IF POSSIBLE
AH. YOU'VE RETURNED.
The Death of Rats was worried. Death was occasionally lost in simple human pleasures- Beer and curries, for example. However, he had never seen him as bad as this before.
AT LAST! THIS IS AUTHENTIC, IT CAN'T NOT BE! THEY WERE CLAIMING TO BE SELLING RINCEWIND'S BABY TEETH OUT THERE, BUT SINCE THERE WERE ABOUT FIFTEEN BAGS I VERY MUCH DOUBT THAT THEY WERE BEING HONEST WITH THAT SALE.
SQUEAK... replied the Death of Rats, wearily. Not another lecture. Albert had taken the risk of returning to the disk with his last few days to just get away from hearing every detail of the housemates lives before they went in.
YES, YES, LOOK AT THIS! VIMES THE BELCHER'S BADGE! SEE, LOOK, IT WAS IN HIS POCKET ALL THE TIME. IT SEEMS THAT HE DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE IT BEHIND, WHICH ISN'T AT ALL SUPRISING REALLY, BUT I'M SUPRISED THAT I NEVER NOTICED HIM WITH IT BEFORE...
SQUEAK.
BUT NOW I AM PRESENTED WITH THE REAL PRESSING QUESTION. DO I GO AND SELL THESE, OR HAVE THEM AS A KEEPSAKE? I MUST THANK YOU, MY LITTLE FRIEND, FOR GETTING THEM FOR ME.
SQUEAK! SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK!
Death looked extremely shocked and offended,or at least as much as an animated skeleton could be. WHAT? OF COURSE NOT! TO SUGGEST THAT I WOULD ENTER THE HOUSE MYSELF? PREPOSTEROUS! IT'S AGAINST THE RULES! THAT WOULD BE EXTREMELY WRONG!
SQUEAK SQUEAK? NO. I DON'T THINK YOU COUNT. ...SQUEAK... DAY 22- 7.00PM: IN THE HOUSE
"Hello Angua."
"Hello, er, Older Sibling," said Angua, sitting down in the small room. This was the first time she had come to the diary room of her own free will. Other times she had only come to collect things for tasks, or give her personal attitude to how things were going in the house as was required occasionally. However, her view only mainly consisted of 'Yeah, it's kind of alright, but, but... Yeah. It's fine."
There was a short pause as each waited for the other to speak. Older Sibling broke the silence first. "Is there something you want to talk to Older Sibling about?"
"Yes. There is. I want to leave this place, now."
This statement caused a great dent in Older Sibling's comfort, and she found it worth saying even if only for that purpose alone. The man behind the eye was told to play the deaf game for a bit and hope she would give up and go away.
"Didn't you hear me? I want out!"
After some conversing, the best they could answer with was "Er, really?"
"Yes!"
A pause. And then "Older Sibling would like to know your reasons for wishing to leave the house."
They congratulated him on this later. It gave the behind the scenes workers plenty of time to work out what to do while she babbled on about her woes, and there were many.
"...And yes, although they each have their good sides, and I love them all... let's face it. They're complete and utter bastards-"
"Okay, okay, that'll do Angua."
This was a new voice, one that she hadn't heard while in the house before. Although this may have sounded like nothing to any fortunate non house-bound person, it was a great novelty for her. For three weeks she had heard no voices apart from those of her irritating housemates, and the bland, humanless voice of Older Sibling. "Oh. Can I go then?"
"...I'm going to be blunt with you, Angua. This is not Older Sibling, or at least not at the minute, and you are not on live. We've taken the view of you and have instead turned it to Rincewind on the toilet."
"...Right. So who is this then?"
"This is Dibbler. Angua, I'm fully aware that we told you upon entering that you have the complete right to leave the house whenever you like-"
"And I intend to make full use of that right."
"Look, just hear me out here. I'm not going to lie to you. We need you. Sure, Ridcully and Vimes provide great humour, but between you and me they're not much to look at. I also find it extremely unlikely that they might sleep together."
This caused her eyebrows to raise. "And with me it is more likely?"
"Bingo. Sorry Angua, but we need your pretty face. That's why we can't let you go- at least not until you've made your time here worthwhile."
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What? But, we signed a contract! Besides, I have a... special condition..."
"My left eye wanders to the side everynow and then when it shouldn't. So what? I don't get special treatment fot it."
This was wrong. It was illegal! ...But who on the outside world was prepared to fix that type of injustice? Anyone who would care enough was trapped along with her.
"'Kay Angua, you're free to leave the Diary room. Have fun, won't you?"
Her face contorted into a form of pure rage. "Fine," she spat.
She swung the door open with such force Vimes who was stood behind recieved quite a shock. "Oh Gods, sorry!" she attempted, but she couldn't spare too much sympathy on anyone but herself.
"It's fine, Angua," he said, his hand rising to his nose, which was promptly starting to bleed. Millions of punches in the face during a bar fight he could handle, but an angry woman's misplaced wrath was something else. "Ah, damn." In a foolish and spontaneous act he lifted the front of his shirt against his now steadily flowing nose.
"I'm really, really sorry. Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine," he lied. "Are you, dough? What's wid de anger?"
"It's... nothing. Nothing sir, just- Vimes, where are your pants?"
"Plead. Don't ask."
It was not turning out to be a good day.
DAY 23- 1.00PM: IN THE HOUSE
The usual custom in all wet and bleak countries was being followed. As the sun had happened to peek out from behind the many bullying rain clouds, everyone had swarmed outside into the garden in a desperate attempt to get a little colour, only to surely run in half an hour later with their arms over their heads as the hailstones crashed down on them and their little T-shirts. It was quite a sad practice if you thought about it.
Vetinari sat alone inside accompanied only by a cup of coffee, as the majority of them led out on the damp grass. He watched them through the window, but it seemed that they were oblivious to his glare.
Ridcully was there, his wide hat serving as a suitable sun shade for his face. Angua had dragged Carrot out as she thought that a little sunlight might do him good and hopefully stop him shuddering for no reason. Rincewind was dutifully drinking a milkshake made by Angua, only with the occasional spasm of pain and disgust shooting across his face (the locusts back in Fourecks were starting to look quite attractive) and Granny Weatherwax was sat outside in a chair, her arms folded and her eyes closed. He imagined that she must be borrowing again, but wether she was inside the pigeon circling above or prying through the other housemates minds he had no idea.
Vimes was still camping out in the diary room, continuing with his protest about lack of leg wear.
He leant back when something caught his eye. A young man had been walking past with a large box in his hands, but had stopped as soon as he saw Vetinari. Apparently he had been assured no one would be inside on a day like this. "Oh my lord-"
"Yes?"
The youth paused, the words 'Oh no, I'm gonna get fired for this...' running through his head over and over again. "I... er... I... I was meant to... er... set up the task..." Gods, why wouldn't that man blink?
"Oh, I see. Well, don't let me detain you." He turned away and continued to drink his coffee.
"By the way..." he suddenly carried on, as the youth, thinking he was free, began to set the box down. "Would you be able to tell me how the city is faring on the outside?"
Oh no. This was it- he could choose between his job, or his life. Considering the choice of the two he made a rather foolish decision. "I... I don't think I'm a-allowed to tell you, my great, great Lordship... er, great."
The Patrician stared at him curiously for a second, and then replied with "No, I suppose not."
The youth exhaled.
"Well, it has been a nice chat, Mister...?"
"Er, Carl," he replied. "Carl Parkhurst."
"Ah. It has been a nice chat, Mister Carl Parkhurst. Keep up with your productive work in OS Studios."
"Th-thankyou, sir, lordship," he answered, and without much more ado ran off, fleeing through a door in the wall which was completely invisible unless you knew it was there.
Vetinari smiled to himself a little, and took another drink of coffee. After a few seconds, he took a scrap of paper out of his pocket along with a pencil.
At the bottom of the list, he wrote 'C Parkhurst'.
DAY 23- 1.30PM: IN THE HOUSE
"Sam?"
"Vimes. What."
"Older Sibling assures you once again that there was no plot to seperate you from your trousers."
"Hah. Have you ever heard of the boy who cried wolf?"
"Yes, Sam. Older Sibling is quite accustomed to the story of the boy who cried wolf."
"Would you like to hear it again?"
"Sam, although Older Sibling repeats that we are not responsible for you misplacing your trousers, we are pleased to tell you that if you would just leave the diary room and look at this weeks task you will see that your problem may have been solved."
"Vimes."
"Please leave, Sam."
DAY 23- 3. 50PM: IN THE HOUSE
Predictably, the task only made things worse for Vimes. He was a fool for momentarilly having hope that someone out there might actually be trying to help him.
"There not that bad, sir," said Angua, who was now wearing an extremely large and elaborate ball gown. "Well, not quite as bad as you make them out to be."
"I can't believe they're doing this," answered Vimes, who had borrowed Carrot's spot in the corner and now had his face pressed against his kness. "Sybil must have played some role in this. They're the exact same ones."
Angua cast another look at the offending red tights, which were still lying on the floor where Vimes had thrown them. She personally thought that they looked awful too, but unless she could convince Vimes otherwise they wouldn't have a chance of completing this task. "Please, just put them on."
"But the red tights... and the buckles..." he moaned quietly.
"Look, Ridcully's wearing his clothes, he doesn't mind."
As soon as she said this she realized that it wasn't the best of examples to give. The both looked to see Ridcully talking at Vetinari and Granny Weatherwax about his determination of doing his part for the group. Judging by the looks on their faces, they hadn't even registered his presence.
Vimes leant his head on his shoulder, as if fighting some terrible battle within himself. "...Alright. I'll put them on."
She gave a sigh of relief.
"Run it past me again, please," said Rincewind, struggling with a black cravat."What do we actually have to do?"
Granny Weatherwax, who herself was already wearing a large gown too, picked up the piece of paper. "Hah. You know it's going to be bad when it says 'Older Sibling wishes you to enjoy yourselves tonight."
"What else?"
"It just says that we need to dress in the formal clothes provided, and more instructions will be given later."
DAY 23- 4.50: IN THE HOUSE
"THIS IS OLDER SIBLING."
"About time, too," grumbled Ridcully.
Everyone was sat at the kitchen table, as it had slowly become their conference area. Partially because it was nearest the coffee, which had become a vital fuel for every housemate. Each of them sat there with a steaming mug in their hands, despite the time of day.
"As we are sure you are aware, Older Sibling has provided you with a particularly special attire today."
"No, I dress like this all the time," Vimes growled, feet up on the table. It seemed he was only doing this to display that he had succesfully managed to get his buckled shoes muddy already.
"Today a task shall be set which shall test your agility and coordination. At nine tonight there shall be a dancing competition."
At this point the man doing the Older Sibling voice had been expecting, and looking forwards to, a groan. That was why they had hired him, for a lesser man would become broken at the dismay caused by every sentence they said. However, he didn't recieve a groan- instead there was a collective sigh.
Slightly annoyed at this lack of reaction, Older Sibling's voice continued. "The partners shall now be chosen randomly, along with one housemate who shall be exempt from tonight's task."
A small worrying thought rose up into the minds of the males in the house. While there were five men, there were only two women.
"The housemate who shall be exempt from this weeks task, is..." There was a sound of a small peice of paper being unfolded for effect. "Carrot."
"Oh," said Carrot with a look of dismay. "Oh. Alright, I'll just... Alright. I'll put the tuxedo away then, shall I."
He pushed his chair away from the table and went away into the other room. Vimes gave Angua an inquisitive glance, who shook her head.
"Ahem. The first dancing couple shall be... Havelock Vetinari and Granny Weatherwax."
They did not look at each other or say anything. However, from their subtle expressions it became obvious they felt that, out of the available outcomes, they had fared well.
"The second dancing couple shall be... Rincewind and Angua."
Vimes ran a hand over his face. He didn't remove it.
"And the third dancing couple shall be, slight pause, Ridcully and Vimes," said Ridcully, his face becoming increasingly more red. "Am I right?"
"...The third dancing couple shall be... Ridcully and Vimes. Thankyou. You have four hours to practice your dance routines before they are shown at nine."
Vimes' hand detached itself from his face and instead slammed into the table. "That's it, I'm going to that bloody diary room."
"Be sure to take a blanket with you this time if you're staying long," said Vetinari.
"I'm going too," said Ridcully, rising to his feet.
"Then on second thoughts don't take a blanket."
The Patrician recieved a number of very odd looks, to which he didn't respond at all.
DAY 23- 5.05PM: IN THE HOUSE
The Older Sibling voice could barely jog behind the walls to the diary room fast enough. "Good evening, Vimes and Ridcully."
"Yeah, I hope your evenings going just as swell as ours," Vimes snarled, leaning close to the Eye.
"What are your views on the task for tonight?"
"You want to know our bloody views?" said Vimes, accompanied with a rude hand gesture.
"This is an outrage!" Ridcully proclaimed. "Requesting that two middle aged men should... should... make a fool of themselves in such a fashion!"
"If you're there Dibbler, and I know you are because you eat up this kind of thing, let me be the first to say 'chosen randomly'? My arse!"
"We demand that you change this atrocity!"
After a seconds thought, the answer produced was "Older Sibling's decision is final."
"That was a good line, that," whispered Dibbler, patting the Older Sibling voice on the back. "Now we can throw that up whenever they complain about anything."
DAY 23- 7.30PM: IN THE HOUSE
"Rincewind, we can't carry on practicsing like this if you're going to continue to wear that huge hat."
"I can't take it off," Rincewind answered, knowing that on its own this line was a feeble arguement.
"Why not? Don't tell me it's your lucky hat or something."
He couldn't answer. Considering the experiences him and his headwear had shared it could be anything but lucky. He took it off, looking at in it an apolegetic manner as he held it in his hands, before he gently put it down on a nearby chair.
"It doesn't make sense," said Granny Weatherwax to Vetinari. Neither of the had made the slightest suggestion that they were going to get up and practice. "That's twice that they've given us a dancing task in a row."
"I suppose they're going with the 'if it's not broke, why fix it' theory. People nearly killing themselves and each other as they run around the room pointlessly must be at the top of the public's entertaiment list."
Carrot had been walking around the house silently with his head held up high, acting in a way which was a little too normal. Vimes had finally managed to pull him to the side. "Look, if you're that upset about it, you can take my place."
"Upset? I'm not upset, sir. Why should you recieve the impressioin that I'm upset?" he questioned, and then without waiting for a reply wandered away again. Vimes sighed.
"Commander?" called Ridcully. "Are you going to continue putting off this practising all day?"
"You've seen through my plan," sighed Vimes, wandering over.
"Come now. As much as I hate this, it must be... nearly worth it for the prize." He held his hands up in the dancing position. "I'll lead."
Vimes' eyebrows furrowed. "What makes you so sure you will?"
"Because I'm not the one wearing the red tights."
DAY 23- 9.00PM: IN THE HOUSE
"This is Older Sibling. Would the first dancing couple step onto this dance floor."
This wasn't exactly true. It was actually a few pieces of cardboard which had been placed down by a certain Carl Parkhurst, who had kept turning around cautiously if he thought he felt the watchfull eyes of Vetinari on his back.
They stepped up. It couldn't be ignored that they oddly looked magnificent, in clothes and act. They did an incredible Lindy Hop, in which they appeared to read each others minds in each action, which could have been the only answer due to the fact that practising had even crossed their minds once.
Yet despite the perfectness of their dance, the more noticeable thing was their faces. They bore no expression whatsoever.
At the end there was polite, perhaps even enthusiastic appluase, from everyone. Apart from Carrot, who just stood at the side, leaning against a wall. Vimes and Angua were really starting to worry about him.
"This is Older Sibling. Please would the second dancing couple step onto the dance floor."
After finding the monstrosity which was a network of knots under Rincewind's hat, Angua had attempted to fix it. Vimes had seen her later running to the bathroom, looking close to tears. The hat was being worn again.
Angua led. It was incredible how many times Rincewind stood on her feet; anyone counting would have been lost after the first six seconds. He might as well have stood on her feet throughout the whole time, as this would have saved time and may have improved the look of the dance. The Tango, rather than being a wild and passionate dance, became a mere embarrassing affair.
Rincewind looked quite upset as they went back to their seats. He looked like he felt he'd spoilt his chance. Angua on the otherhand, looked tired. She had to sit on the chair before she collapsed from exhaustion and pure stress.
"This is Older Sibling. Would the third dancing couple step onto the dance floor."
There was no appropriate word to describe Vimes' expression as he stepped up. Ridcully was more fortunate- No matter how he looked it was hidden from everyone else by his large cumbersome beard.
"Break a leg, Vimes," muttered Ridcully.
"I don't doubt it."
Rincewind steping on Angua's feet was nothing. The first blow was thrown on the second spin as Vimes' foot seemed to develop a life of it's own and swung around behind Ridcully's, causing him to stumble slightly. Ridcully's elbow found it's target in Vimes' chest. Before a minute had passed, the Waltz had speeded itself up into a badly disguised battle.
"So who's winning?" asked Rincewind.
"Well..." said Angua, leaning her head on one side. "Vimes is one up on the blows, and Ridcully certainly seems to be the one faltering the most, but it's his turn now."
Ridcully pushed the bout further. At the first oppurtunity he brought his knee up in a place which would normally bring a man down in defeat, however Vimes smiled. He was a Watchman- after years of experience it didn't effect him as much as it might. In a reply to the more aggresive blow he sharply nutted Ridcully in the head, causing him to fall onto the floor in a crumpled heap.
Angua considered applauding, but thought against it.
"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," said Vimes as he went to sit back down, rubbing his forehead slightly.
DAY 23- 10.10PM: IN THE HOUSE
"I think it's true, actually. Dancing is good for the soul."
"I wonder when he's going to come around..." said Rincewind, crouching over Ridcully. "It's been an hour now..."
"THIS IS OLDER SIBLING."
"Ah. Results."
"Let's hope that the Commander's little brawl didn't tarnish our chances of being rewarded," said Vetinari, sitting back down in his chair at the dining table as they all went there to hear the news.
"Well it wouldn't qualify as a dance, but at least you lived many women's dreams by knocking Mustrum out," commented Granny Weatherwax. Vimes couldn't help feeling a little elated. She had complimented him. He must have done a good job.
"This is Older sibling. This winners for the dancing competition shall be announced tomorrow morning after judging is completed."
The voice dissapeared.
"What?" said Angua.
"It would appear that only two of us win," said Vetinari.
Well, there you have it. It's actually longer-a lot longer-than the other chapters, so this way it means it's easier for me, and it also means that you get to vote who you would like to win the dancing competition!
Let me make this clear. DO NOT VOTE FOR WHO YOU WANT TO LEAVE. That will be done at the end of the next chapter. Also, you can't vote anything like 'Angua and Vetinari'. They have to be dancing couples. Work with me here.
The winners will reieve a special prize to share.
Please vote and review!
