'Well did you find out
anything?' asked Granny irritably.
'I did find out one thing, and that
is..' the Raven paused, purely for dramatic effect, '.. the mother is planning
a long journey soon, apparently she is heading to Ankh-Morpork, to avoid the
new King's taxes.'
Granny snorted, 'Taxes don't bother
me.'
' No Esme, but, you know how much they
bother everyone else, can't pay this, won't pay that its the gossip of the
country this new king he's raised the taxes through the roof,'
'Yes, well I can't be doing with
gossip, don't believe anything anyone else tells you, ever, and you know we
shouldn't mess with kings it's their problem, no interfering.'
'Yeah and you paid a lot of attention
to that one last time, Esme, this time we will leave things as-'
But she was talking to herself.
The cottage had a low roof with
ancient beams sprawling across the ceiling sagging dangerously in the middle.
The mother sat in a rocking chair with the baby wrapped in a blanket and
sleeping on her lap. The candle flickered and she drifted into a deep sleep.
Raym,
you must take the little chap to Ankh-Morpork and hide there as the new king is
after him. Don't do anything stupid, keep off the beer, and keep off the fags
and check your calorie count and-'
Raym's inner conscience stood in.
'Who are you? And why are you telling me these things?'
Raym
I am your helper, your eternal soul, I will look over you wherever you go, I am
Algebri I am an Angel sent to look after you forever and ever and ever and ever
and ever.
'Well thanks, I'll see you later but right now I need some
sleep, Goodnight.'
Algebri stood there among the clouds mouth hanging open.
Well,
OK, Goodnight, He moaned, It wasn't this hard last time. Shaking
his head he clicked his fingers. Beside him a faint silvery ladder dropped
lightly to the cloud he grasped it with the strength of a God and started
climbing. Unfortunately the ladder didn't have the strengths of Gods. Or maybe
it had the strength of Sslofydnac the God of Fairground sweets but that's not
the point. There was a faint 'snap' up above Algebri. Oh, Bugger.
Granny Weatherwax marched with
determination down the hillside and towards Lancre. There was a crunch
under-foot; she slowly looked down waiting to see the worst. There, in
multicoloured splinters was, a candy cane. She eyed it suspiciously. There was
a noise ahead of her that can best be described as 'plupyk'. Slowly she looked
up, there ahead of her was a tree but the untreely thing about it was that
instead of leaves and fruit the tree blossomed small nappies. Granny quickened
her pace.
At the foot
of the hill the entire of Lancre could be seen lights flickering in each
thatched cottage. She strode past Nanny's house and into the centre of Lancre.
The castle stood in the distance, creaked dangerously in the gentle breeze.
There by itself, stood Raym's house on the side of the village green. Granny
walked up to it and knocked hard on the door. There was no answer. She knocked
harder. Still no answer. Cursing to herself she pushed open the door. Inside,
the room looked hurriedly deserted. Things were scattered everywhere and in the
centre of the room a rocking chair rocked seemly to itself slowly, over and
over again. Granny walked over to it and gently stopped it. She turned to look out
the window.
Behind her the creaking started again slowly
at first but quickening. Again she went to stop it. Although this time she
could feel it trying to move itself again. She took her hand off and it rocked
faster and faster. She left the room cursing again and there, on the edge of
hearing was a faint babies cry. She only heard it because she was expecting it.
She left through the back door and peered up to the main road past Sto Lat and
to Ankh-Morpork. There silhouetted on the horizon was a mother riding a donkey,
a small child in her arms. She was riding with all the grace of a sack of
potatoes.
Death stared,
with his blue super nova eyes at his model of the Disc. His study dotted with
documents and ancient scrolls. Upon inspection one would notice the words,
What
to do yn a cas of emerjensee.
Death scratched his chin with a
noise like a drunken cockroach sprinting across sandpaper. He sighed and turned
to the contents. His finger scraped down the page until he got to,
Profets
and profesees and sons ov god and aktors.
The page
number was flipped to. Death cringed,
ACTORS,
WHAT A DREADFUL PROBLEM THEY ARE.
There was a
shuffle beside him and a tiny skeletal paw pointed to the page and a black robe
coughed politely.
OH, YES,
SORRY BACK TO THE PROBLEM, THE, OTHER PROBLEM
SQUEAK?
WELL OF
COURSE
SQUEAK, SQUEAK
AS ALWAYS
SQUEAK, SQ-SQ SQUEAK?
DON'T BE STUPID
SQUEAK
SO WHAT DID SHE SAY AFTER YOU, YOU KNOW
SQUEAK came the sad reply,
O, WELL YOU DEFINETLY BLEW IT
DIDN'T YOU
SQUEAK
HE-HE-HE-HE, Death gave a noise
very much like a snort
SQUEAK SQUEAK!!
NO, SORRY IT'S NOT FUNNY AT ALL
