Exam Shows – Top prizes!
Under a deserted windswept
hill, on a deserted windswept plain, sits a deserted but disappointingly
un-windswept great hall. Long forgotten by the world… well not long forgotten really,
it's only been 2 years since the moving pictures unpleasantness, but hey, this
is the age of ADD. Anyway, the point is there's a great hall under a deserted
hill that no one really thinks about anymore. As you enter this vast hall your
immediate thoughts would not be of the many lifeless bodies, or even of the
horrifying destruction, but would actually be something along the lines of
'whoa, sparkly!' Isn't it about time sunglasses are standard issue for
archaeologists? How many more must suffer? Failing that, at least confiscate
their brown nylon sweaters and give them some proper clothes.
*Click*
"I can't be having with
this." Said Granny Weatherwax firmly, "Can't be having with this at all." She
scowled at the growing crowd of people gathering before them.
"Oh c'mon Esme, it's just
a bit of fun." Answered Nanny Ogg, "I've got me eye on that dishwashing imp
prize too." She gestured towards the prize's table.
"Dishwashing imp?"
"Yep, it'll give the
daughter in-laws a bit of a rest, bless 'em."
"Rest?"
"Aye. Give 'em more time
to do me dusting." Nanny grinned.
"It's an insult to
witchcraft, that's what it is!" Granny persisted, "I've half a mind to make
them all think they're toads."
"Yes, Esme."
"No one can say I'm not a
fair women, you know they can't, but this just isn't right."
"No, Esme."
The witches were
interrupted by a voice. A booming voice. "Ladies and gentlemen," it began, "please welcome our first contestant."
"Now what's going on?"
Granny had to shout to be heard.
"The greatest witch this side
of Klatch… an example to us all… please welcome… Granny Weatherwax!"
For 3 full minutes the
applause filled the room. Granny's mouth was wide open for the duration. She
tried in vain to fight the astonished grin.
"Oh… Oh, I don't know
about the greatest. I suppose I have my moments like the next girl." She
diverted her eyes down to her skirts. The applause slowly died.
"Well perhaps I judged
harshly, Gytha."
"Perhaps so, Esme."
Answered Nanny mildly.
"I still don't agree with
this, mind."
"No, Esme."
*Click*
Five metres to the left of
the witches, and behind a ridiculously sparkly desk, sat a grinning CMOT
Dibbler. His dazzling smile was matched only by the shine from his sparkly
suit. He'd hired the most outrageous 'supernova' clothes he could find, and
polished his teeth into an offensive weapon. Oblivious of the witch's scorn, he
was drinking in the lights, the people, the sparkles. This is it, he thought,
this is the big one! The big one was not strictly a singular, but more a whole
series if Dibbler got his way. Exam shows! He'd had the idea while running away
from a 'dissatisfied' customer a couple of weeks back. Dibbler usually employed
someone to run away for him, he was a busy man, but things had been tight this
year. No one could say CMOT Dibbler didn't muck down to work when the going got
tough. Eventually, Dibbler had lost the guy somewhere around the Holy Wood
area, and had hidden out for the day in a cave. It was in this cave that
inspiration had struck. Well, it didn't really strike; rather it formed as an
uninvited imprint in his mind. It was almost like the idea had him rather than
him having the idea. He did think it a bit strange, but then how you get an
idea isn't really important. The important thing, according to the good book of
Dibbler, is how much money you can make from it, and in this case, he thought
with glee, it was a lot. It was all so simple. Exam shows! Check at any school,
any university; when faced with the pressure of examinations, normally bright
people give the most ridiculous and amusing answers. Take unseen university,
for example. On a clear night you can hear the examiner's laughs for hours as
they read how the correct way to position a rhyme table is 'orange', and how
according to some hapless student, the first word of a simple levitation spell
is 'wibble'. What if, Dibbler had thought, what if that could be harnessed into
full-scale light entertainment? There was the problem of course, that no one
would agree to be humiliated in front of a large audience. This was easily
solved however, by offering the chance of winning prizes. Not even good prizes
were needed. People didn't want simple gold and silver; they wanted
self-loading spin dryers (also know as a maid) and other such junk. Dibbler's
grin doubled, temporarily blinding the director.
The next problem was to
acquire the contestants. Not just any contestants, for the grand opening show
there should be grand opening contestants. People that were somebody,
people with standing, people like the Patrician! Ok, so he'd flatly refused and
brought up the subject of taxes… no matter, Dibbler had thought, he'd ask the
next best thing. He consulted his list. On this list were people of authority
and people who commanded respect. Now as we all know 'people who command respect'
is just another way of saying 'people who can hurt other people', and
therefore, wizards, witches, the watch, and their like were the most obvious
candidates. This perhaps doesn't do justice to the many thieves, warriors,
school nurses, and countless others that no doubt 'command respect', but
Dibbler wanted to keep a whole legal feel to the thing. He hadn't wasted any
time. Within a day of returning he'd sent out invitations to the witches of
Lancre, the wizards at Unseen university, the watch headquarters, and sold the
'dissatisfied' customer 10 more boxes of gen-u-ine lucky heather (and no, the
previous owner hadn't perished in some bizarre and painful fashion, he'd
actually just been locked up for impersonating a witch doctor). In all, Dibbler
had managed to secure the services of 4 top members of the community and
Corporal Nobbs of the watch. These privileged first contestants were now
standing ready behind the glittery stands, purpose built by Rowley and Rowley
of Ankh-Morpork.
*Clic… I'm not done yet!
There had actually been a
brief period of confusion when the number of contestants had counted one more,
but someone had realised at the last moment that Foul Old Ron had just wandered
in off the street and positioned himself behind a stand. It seemed that no one
had been willing to get near enough to question his right to be there.
Eventually, with the use of a long pole, he was shown on his way to cries of
"Buggerit! Millennium!" and the occasional "hand and shrimp!"
Ok, go ahead. *Click*
"Ladies and gentlemen,"
Dibbler began, "welcome to the greatest show on the disc!" There followed more
applause and an annoying amount of cheering (there's always one isn't there?).
Dibbler waited for quiet. "Without further delay, let's start the contest!"
Dibbler turned to Granny
Weatherwax. As she was widely broadcasting to anyone in hearing distance,
Granny was not pleased at appearing on this test show thingy. It made a mockery
of the serious business of witchcraft in her important opinion. The problem was
how could she refuse? She couldn't abide with some lesser witch like Nanna Colt
appearing in pubic, with her small oval hat and short, flat nose. It would make
people think it was how all witches were and Granny wasn't having that. "No,
we're going Gytha." She'd said. Secretly, Granny was also a little worried of
getting questions wrong. She couldn't imagine them asking important questions
like where to find the best ingredients for a sleeping potion, or the correct
way to grow warts. No, it'd probably be stupid questions like what's the name
of the Ankh-Morpork patrician and other irrelevance. Well, Granny was not going
to put up with being mocked. She could see some people hopping home as toads
before today was over.
Granny now eyed Dibbler
suspiciously as he moved to face her.
No one noticed the first
wisps of a thin mist forming high above them.
"Ms Weatherwax!" Dibbler
enthused as if he were a long lost friend. "Are you ready for your first
question?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
Answered Granny icily. She stared at him, flexing her fingers in a somewhat
sinister way.
"Ok, your first question
worth 10 points, where would you expect to find a common mountain troll?"
"At Jason Ogg's blacksmith
shop." Granny smiled, that wasn't too hard.
"Oh, I'm sorry, incorrect
I'm afraid."
Granny glared at him.
Dibbler gulped silently.
"What d'ya mean
incorrect?" She demanded, "Etricious the troll has worked there for years!"
"Err… I was actually
thinking more along the lines of famous mountain ranges."
"Well more fool you then!
I'll take my 10 points, thank you."
"Ah, yes… well perhaps we
should move on." Dibbler wisely decided not to argue.
He moved across to Nanny
Ogg. Although sharing Granny's pride in witchcraft, Nanny wasn't half as
sceptical about participating in the exam show. After all, there were free
refreshments and she got to show off her new shawl. There had been a stage when
she'd feared Granny would refuse, but a well timed "But Esme, we don't want
them to think we're scared do we?" Had done the trick, even if it did lead to a
20 minute 'I've never been scared of nothing in me life' lecture.
"Mrs Ogg, for 10 points,
what is a name used when referring to only the most powerful of wizards?"
Nanny considered this, her
head resting on her hand. "A fat bas…"
"Gytha!" Granny barked.
"Sorry, Esme."
An embarrassed Dibbler
checked his card. "No I'm sorry, the correct answer was 'A Sorcerer'."
He decided to move swiftly on, and almost recoiled in disgust when he came to
Nobby Nobbs.
So this was the great
representative of the Ankh-Morpork city watch? Perhaps it was a tribute to the
high esteem in which Vimes held the exam show? It had been Vimes' idea. In fact
it had been at his insistence. "Exam shows indeed." He'd said, "Don't they
realise how much work we have? Send Nobby, it might even keep him out of
trouble for the afternoon." Nobby didn't mind, anything was better than traffic
duty. That's if you can call sleeping duty. He just couldn't seem to get
comfortable for his afternoon nap at the roadside.
"Corporal Nobbs, your
first question… what species are you?"
"Human!"
"Incorrect, I'm afraid."
"What do you mean
incorrect?" Nobby mimicked Dibbler's tone, "I'll have you know I have a
certificate signed by the patrician!" He fished around in his dirty pocket.
"I'm sorry Nobby, the
question master's decisions are final." Dibbler turned to the next contestant,
the Bursar.
"Do you have a
certificate?" Demanded Nobby.
"Nobby, I spoke to
Commander Vimes especially. When I asked your species he informed me very
clearly that you were a 'Slimy little grub'. I would also have accepted
'slimeball'."
Nobby simmered angrily.
Damn Vimes! I definitely won't be using a spoon to make his coffee now, he
thought. "S'not fair." He said sulkily.
"You'll have to take it up
with our appeals official Nobby." Said Dibbler. He gestured with a thumb to a
large troll. "Right, your turn Bursar."
Above the Bursar, the mist
grew.
The Bursar hadn't wanted
to appear on the show, but then the Bursar didn't want to do anything but sit on
the university's garden bench and sing about happy mushrooms. The other senior
wizards had made up a commendable story of how the show would be good for his
condition. The interaction with the public would do him a world of good
wouldn't it? Besides which, they were all busy washing their hair or catching
up on marking assignments *cough*. Ridcully had toyed with the idea of sending
hex along, knowing it would win, but they just couldn't get a pointy hat to
stay on it no matter how hard they tried. There were standards to keep after
all, so the Bursar it was.
Right now down in the
audience stands, the Archchancellor and the dean fidgeted nervously. "Do you
think he'll be alright?" Asked the dean.
"Of course," Answered
Ridcully without much conviction, "He's a wizard isn't he?"
Dibbler waited for
silence. "Bursar, for 10 points, what colour is usual for an adult swamp
dragon?"
"Red, I believe."
"Correct!"
"There you are," Said
Ridcully relieved, "I said he'd be alright didn't I?"
The Bursar, pleased with the
applause, waved happily to the audience. That's right, thought Dibbler; a
little showmanship never hurt the ratings.
"Ok Bursar, for 20 points,
where would you expect to find oysters?"
"Gyryt." Answered the
Bursar confidently.
A paused followed. The Dean
and Archchancellor's eyes met.
"Say again?"
"Fghtt!"
"Um… that's not the answer
I have on the card I'm afraid." Dibbler turned to face the two wizards who were
rudely invading the set.
Ridcully pushed past him
and approached the Bursar. "We'll deal with this don't worry."
"Why did you have to upset
him?" Demanded the Dean, "He'll be up all night now."
"Nnjht." Added the Bursar.
"That's right old chap,
you'll soon feel better with a few dried frog pills." Said Ridcully soothingly.
They led the confused Bursar down to the benches.
If Dibbler was worried at
the show's unexpected progression, he wasn't letting it affect his smile.
Granny shuddered. "I just
don't like it one bit. It don't feel right."
"You'll feel better when
you see the refreshments." Nanny had investigated those thoroughly before the
show.
Dibbler again waited for
quiet then turned to the next contestant. The Librarian had put himself forward
as a contestant as soon as he'd seen the university's invitation.
Unsurprisingly, no one had argued. Well, no one had argued after they saw what
happened to old Hakemore Straightstaff after he'd said, "We can't send that
monkey as our representative, we have a reputation to main…" Strangely, he
never got to finish.
"Librarian, are you
ready?"
"Oook."
"Ok, now for 10 points,
can you tell me the name of the Archchancellor of Unseen University?"
"Oook."
"Correct!"
Ridcully beamed.
"It's not right, Gytha."
Whispered Granny.
"No, Esme."
"Librarian, for 20 points,"
the smile was dazzling, "What is the capital of Omina?"
"Oook."
"Correct!"
The mist descended
further. There was now an almost blue tinge to the room. No one noticed it
growing.
"For 30 points, we're
really getting somewhere now," Dibbler wondered if he could sell the audience
sausages in buns, "Who is the Commander of the City Watch?"
"Oook."
"Correct!" Dibbler waved
his hands extravagantly. "Give him a round of applause ladies and gentlemen."
Applause duly followed.
"Ok, Librarian, for a
record 40 points, what is the colour of magic?"
There was a pause while
the Librarian hesitated.
"Black Alice wouldn't have
stood for it." Muttered Granny.
"Shhh, Esme."
All eyes were on the
Librarian.
"Oook."
Dibbler added his own
pause for dramatic effect.
"Ohhh… I'm sorry. You
answered 'oook' but the correct answer was…"
"Oook!" He was
interrupted.
"I'm sorry, I can only
accept your first answer. You answered 'oook' but the correct answer was
actually..."
Dibbler didn't get to
finish. There was no time for the Librarian to rue missed chances either, for
at that moment, the mist fell. It started with a rumble, and people began to
look up nervously. What the hell was the blue thing floating on the ceiling? An
almighty popping noise signalled that they were all about to get a closer look.
The bubble burst and fell. Almost immediately, everything seemed to turn blue.
There was a silence that seemed to originate from the room itself. This brief
silence was ended by a loud coughing noise, and within seconds, screams filled
the air and a pungent burning smell chocked the room. There was pandemonium. A
ghostly wail sailed in the clammy air.
"I bloody knew it!" Said
Granny triumphantly.
*Clunk*
END.
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Stupid, short and
pointless I know, but hey, I did learn to spell 'Oook' right for this fic! …Shame
I didn't spell Gytha right (thanks Maid Easy). I promise to stop being lazy and
check these things in future.
