Chapter 43 - Things Get All Zotic

It's a truism that it is often the small details that take the most time to work out.

Crickets appeared to be no exception.

It started when they flagged down a coach, and posed the question.

"Rickets?"

"No, my good man. Crickets."

"Whut, like the thing the gentlemens do with the balls?"

Jonathon had some sort of coughing fit over that one before he could answer, eyes watering. "No no no. Not the game, the bugs."

"Whatcher wanna buy bugs for, your lordship? Come to my house, we'll shake out the mattress for you fer free." He seemed to think that was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard, or said.

Myria found that the mere thought made her skin feel odd. As if countless small creatures were crawling across it with prickly legs. She shivered. "That… is an unpleasant thought."

"Um. Thanks, but no thanks. We really are looking for crickets. Just crickets."

"Sorry your lordship, can't help. Anywhere else you'd go?"

As there was not, he moved on. The second coach was no more help.

Nor the third.

By the fourth, they were considering forgetting about them completely. "Crickets, you say? What for, if you don't mind me askin?" This particular coachman had one hazy eye, and long unruly mustaches that he kept chewing on absentmindedly.

"To feed to a newt," Myria responded, slightly weary and prepared for disappointment.

"Why'd yer wanta feed a newt?" He looked perplexed, like she'd suggested making pants for a goat.[1]

"Look," Jonathon answered shortly. It's a pet, ok? A pet newt. And it eats crickets."

The mouth worked vigorously on the left moustache. "Hmm.. well ya might try Mad Bobs then.

"Mad Bobs?"

"Roit. Old Mad Bob, he sells bait and pets and such. I hear tell he has all sorts of odd vermin in there. Might have crickets. No promises, mind ya."

"Let us make the attempt."


Mad Bobs turned out to be, more accurately, Madd Bobb's Bait-n-Pets. A surprisingly large business nestled between an Agataean Raw Fish Restaurant[2] and some sort of butcher shop, both of which probably explained the quite rich odors Myria noted as they exited the coach and paid the driver to wait for them there.

Upon entering the shop, Myria revised her prior analysis. While the two neighboring shops might have significant aromas, the shop itself was pretty rich itself.

Well that would not be quite fair. It had a cocktail of odors. No. More like a Bhang Bhang Duc Buffet of odors. There were, Myria decided, various internal organ smells. And a panoply of bodily fluid smells. And a cornucopia of animal and insect smells.

"Ye gods. That's an assault on the sinuses."

Turning to her left, she noted that a sizeable area was roped off with a large sign proclaiming "Baites - Garenteed". Scattered through the area were mesh cages of various creepy crawlies. Moving closer, Myria noted there were also tubs of what appeared to be soil, in which she caught the slight movements of unknown oozies and slitheries. She resisted the temptation to explore those further.

She also noted crates of ice containing waxed paper which, from the odor, contained animal organs. Other packages seemed to be oozing pungent pastes.

"Ah milady, I believe you mean to be in the pets section." A short and heavy-set man with a fringe of hair and entirely too many pockets stood beaming when she turned. "Madd Bobb's the name. Pets and Baits, me game. Looking for something with fur, I'll wager. P'raps to sit in the lap? Keeps the fleas off a treat." At that moment, Myria realized the smells had blinded her to the sounds. There were insect noises nearby, but on the opposite side of the building she could hear the yips, meows, and chirps of various beasts and fowls.

"No, we are seeking crickets." She scanned the room, catching Jonathon on the other side, peering into various glass cases. Cheery seemed fascinated by a cage closer by, fiddling with her beard thoughtfully. No help from those quarters.

"Oh, well that's easily arranged. What are you hopin' to catch?"

"Oh, we are not using them as bait. We wish to feed a newt."

"Ah!" He looked delighted and clapped his hands. "Wonderful critter, the newt. A land-dweller is it? Must be if you're feeding it crickets. The water-dwellers go for small fishies instead." He looked back at the dwarf. "Oy! No playin' with the merchandize, constable!" Cheery looked slightly sheepish, and quickly pulled her hands back out of the cage she had observing. "Where was I? Oh yeah. Crickets. Right over here." He led her to a large, fine-screened cage full of wadded paper and bits of potato. The insects were all over it, jumping, grooming, eating, and defecating. It was fascinating and slightly horrifying.

"Yes. That… that is correct. We would like a dozen, please."

"Right away. Maybe you'd like to see the rest of the stock while I round 'em up? We have the largest s'lection of zotic pets' in the city!"

"I am most curious. Thank you."

A stack of halfbricks caught her eye. "Excuse me, what are these for?"

"Oh them. Those are for fishing."

Myria thought she understood fishing. It involved a long rod. A line. A hook. And a bait. She did not understand how a brick would factor in. "I do not understand."

"Wahl. Some folks like to try their luck on the Ankh. Not that I'd ever eat anything came out of it, but you can catch summat." He gestured at the pile. "But you gotta break through the crust first."

"Oh… I… see." She wandered away, fascinated and repulsed, past water-filled buckets with small fishes, also labeled as "baite" to where Cheery stood in front of a wire cage full of rabbits.

The sign above the cage said "Rabbits fer lovin' or stewin'. Her stomach did some sort of strange acrobatics. "That… that is…"

"It's horrible, eh? Never thought about it. I mean, there's pets and then there's food, right?"

Myria shook her head. Her reaction made no sense, she realized. An animal could be pet to one and food to another. But still… "Yes. It is not a pleasant epiphany." She looked over to where Jonathon stood, and noticed that his side was likewise roped off, with a sign proclaiming "Pets Fer Kuddlin or Watchin". Apparently the middle area, where she and cheery stood, was the grey area between pets and bait, both metaphorically and literally. There was a tank nearby full of small golden colored fish. "Golden Fish. Prefect fer bait, petfood, or just watchin" the sign proclaimed.

"Myria you have to see this!" Jonathon beckoned her over to a row of glass enclosures. Many contained water and colorful fishes. Others were only partially filled and contained turtles, salamanders, frogs, and other similar species. Many were brightly colored, which made it likely, if memory served, that they were poisonous or pretending to be.

She stopped next to Jonathon, who put an arm around her shoulder and pointed to a tank full of water and a single fish. It was quite a fish. Its lower jaw was dramatically receded, with several tooth-like protrusions from the upper jaw. Its overlarge eyes apparently were not there for utility, as it repeatedly ran into the glass, rocks, weeds, and at times appeared to be stumbling over its own shadow.

"Ah! I see you've found one of our best sellers! The Greater Tsortian Stumblerfish, known in the trade, if you'll forgive my Klatchian, as the Dorkfish." He laughed and then seemed embarrassed that he had, and cleared his throat. "Quite rare, and difficult to keep alive, tho. Very special diet. Mostly corn meal and slaughterhouse byproducts.[3]

Myria's brows knitted. "But this makes no sense. How could they survive on this in their natural habitat?"

"Wahl can't say as I would know. Never been to Tsort meself. Mebbe they live downstream of slaughterhouses and grist mills?"

Jonathon shook his head. "Well that would explain why the thing seems to navigate by running into things. Can't imagine you could see much in water full of guts and grist." He shuddered. "That's just disgusting."

Myria was fascinated. She scanned the various tanks, finding an incredible variety of colors and sizes of fish in the nearby tanks. The 'dorkfish' was one of the more expensive, listed at several hundred $AM. Others ranged dramatically in price down to several for a penny.

Cheery joined them, and mentioned offhand that Constable Visit would love to know about this place, since he was fascinated by turtles.

The owner's face pinched up at that. "Can't say I'd be pleased to have Mister Visit-The-Infidel here again. Came by last week and went on at me two whole hours about how Om weren't happy about me keepin' turtles in glass tanks." His fingers flexed. "Only left when I promised I'd keep a stack of pamphlets on the counter." He stuck a thumb out to the far corner where, peaking out from under a rather heavy scale, could just be seen the corner of a stack of folded papers.

"Yep. That's constable Visit all right…" Something caught Cheery's eye, and she whistled. "What in the gods is that?!"

In the tank was what appeared to Myria at first to be a series of large rusty pipes. Upon closer inspection, she realized the tank went several feet back through the wall, and what had appeared to be pipes were various portions of a single, very very large serpent.

Howondalandian Yawnsnake a sign proclaimed. 925 $AM

Cheery spoke very carefully, not taking her eyes off what she had determined to be the business end of the creature. "Let me get this straight. People keep this thing as a pet."

"Yup. And you can buy bebbe mices to feed it, too. Course when it gets bigger-"

"Uh huh. So you buy this thing, and then you gotta buy other animals to feed to it."

"Right."

"925 $AM. You could feed a dozen people with that."

Jonathon shook his head. "Cheery, you could feed a dozen people to that."

There was a collective shudder. The snake, sensing this was her cue, lifted her head and yawned mightily.

Nothing should be able to open its mouth that wide, especially to show an absolutely gorgeously red-tinted maw.

Everyone stepped back a few feet.

"Wow."

"Yeah. Wow."

"Um. Maybe we should pay and get on our way."

"Correct." "Yeah. Mmmhmm. Absolutely."


[1] Which, you may be surprised to learn, has been done. Gytha Ogg, of Lancre fame, has even written a song about it entitled "The Horn-ed Goat What Lost His Pants". It's best not to ask.

[2] For some reason, Agataean restaurants often featured uncooked fish dishes. The most common theory among Morporkians was that they must have discovered fire late in the game, and were too stubborn to update the cookbooks afterward.

[3] On a small wooden stick. *sigh* Yes they eat corn dogs. Dorkfish just love them corn dogs.