A/N: (Not related to the anime at all, I swear. It's just a fun title.) This is pretty much the continuing tale branching off of Cough Syrup... only more drawn out and I'm having more fun with it. Also more characters will come around (probably) and I'll most likely get introduced to a delightfully talkative mime in the Scorpion pits. (This is a one-shot until I decide that I don't want to confine myself. So, er, uh... wait five minutes, okie-doke?)
You're Under Arrest!
The sun set slowly over the Discworld, dragging the light behind it like a bridal gown's train caught on a pew. The reason for this slowness can be discovered in pretty much any of the Discworld books in which the sun rises or sets, but I'm going to bore you with it anyway. So if you know already, just skip the next paragraph.
Ye gods, you're a newbie, aren't you? Okay, fine, I'll explain... It goes something like this: The Discworld sits on the backs of four elephants, who stand on the shell of the enormous star-turtle A'Tuin, who is of undetermined sex (a point much explored in the first two books). Obviously for a planet such as this to exist there must be a very large magical field, thus the magical field acts as a filter for sunlight, like if water is forced through honey. There. Now, do you understand? Good. Lovely. We shall go on.
Finally, darkness fell like the veil of the Bride of Frankenstein (TM). Also like a large piece of black velvet, except there was no screaming and mass suffocation. Also perhaps like blackberry pudding and black paint and star-poo and perhaps also a truckload of mud.
At any rate, it was now night. And dark, except for one falling star on the edge of vision...
It is orange, and traveling quickly through the atmosphere. A high, keening sound emits from it, as though there are whistles glued to the sides.
If we pull closer we realize that the whistling is really something that goes like this: "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHCRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPNOOOOOOOOOOOTTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIISAAAAAAAAAAAGAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNN..."
The handcuffs clacked over the girl's wrists, and she was led away by Captain Carrot, who was reading her rights to her.
"You have the right to breathe, you have the right to pick your nose freely, you have the right to scream, you have the right to ask a lawyer for help, but you may or may not have the right to recieve help, you have the right to give the nice doggie a biscuit if perchance you were to have one on your person..."
Commander Vimes made a note on his pad, scowling. The school may have been forcing her to do things that were illogical and also illegal, but that didn't give her any right to hold the principal hostage and burn down the building.
He swore and ripped the page out. That didn't even make sense to HIM, so it must be stupid.
The day had been slow. The week had been slow. The entire MONTH had been slow. It made him uneasy, like water sucking out, away from the beach, right before a gigantic tidal wave.
The falling star is heading straight for Ankh-Morpork.
You could say it's a crash course, in fact.
Vimes loosened his collar as he stepped into his office, walking across the room to open the window. It wasn't just slow, it was also HOT. Hot like inside his wife's Dragon barn. Hot like Klatch in a heatwave. Hot like a demon's jock-
Very hot. Yes.
But it was a dry heat, like an oven instead of the normal sauna-type heat they got in Ankh-Morpork. It made Vimes uncomfortable, and not just because of the chafing.
He sat in his chair and half-heartedly did paperwork for about half an hour. After a while he became aware of something on the edge of hearing, a sort of sound that could only be described by the word "zhweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen".
It was getting louder by the second.
Vimes turned around just in time to see something glowing and orange hit hit the Ankh with a very loud "gloop." He stared at the hole.
And then it exploded.
"Bloody hell!" Vimes said faintly, staggering down the stares.
He was sopping wet, and dripping polluted liquids onto the floor.
"Alchemists Guild explode again, sir?" Littlebottom asked, barely glancing up.
"No," mumbled Vimes. "The river."
_________
To Be Continued!
You're Under Arrest!
The sun set slowly over the Discworld, dragging the light behind it like a bridal gown's train caught on a pew. The reason for this slowness can be discovered in pretty much any of the Discworld books in which the sun rises or sets, but I'm going to bore you with it anyway. So if you know already, just skip the next paragraph.
Ye gods, you're a newbie, aren't you? Okay, fine, I'll explain... It goes something like this: The Discworld sits on the backs of four elephants, who stand on the shell of the enormous star-turtle A'Tuin, who is of undetermined sex (a point much explored in the first two books). Obviously for a planet such as this to exist there must be a very large magical field, thus the magical field acts as a filter for sunlight, like if water is forced through honey. There. Now, do you understand? Good. Lovely. We shall go on.
Finally, darkness fell like the veil of the Bride of Frankenstein (TM). Also like a large piece of black velvet, except there was no screaming and mass suffocation. Also perhaps like blackberry pudding and black paint and star-poo and perhaps also a truckload of mud.
At any rate, it was now night. And dark, except for one falling star on the edge of vision...
It is orange, and traveling quickly through the atmosphere. A high, keening sound emits from it, as though there are whistles glued to the sides.
If we pull closer we realize that the whistling is really something that goes like this: "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHCRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPNOOOOOOOOOOOTTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIISAAAAAAAAAAAGAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNN..."
The handcuffs clacked over the girl's wrists, and she was led away by Captain Carrot, who was reading her rights to her.
"You have the right to breathe, you have the right to pick your nose freely, you have the right to scream, you have the right to ask a lawyer for help, but you may or may not have the right to recieve help, you have the right to give the nice doggie a biscuit if perchance you were to have one on your person..."
Commander Vimes made a note on his pad, scowling. The school may have been forcing her to do things that were illogical and also illegal, but that didn't give her any right to hold the principal hostage and burn down the building.
He swore and ripped the page out. That didn't even make sense to HIM, so it must be stupid.
The day had been slow. The week had been slow. The entire MONTH had been slow. It made him uneasy, like water sucking out, away from the beach, right before a gigantic tidal wave.
The falling star is heading straight for Ankh-Morpork.
You could say it's a crash course, in fact.
Vimes loosened his collar as he stepped into his office, walking across the room to open the window. It wasn't just slow, it was also HOT. Hot like inside his wife's Dragon barn. Hot like Klatch in a heatwave. Hot like a demon's jock-
Very hot. Yes.
But it was a dry heat, like an oven instead of the normal sauna-type heat they got in Ankh-Morpork. It made Vimes uncomfortable, and not just because of the chafing.
He sat in his chair and half-heartedly did paperwork for about half an hour. After a while he became aware of something on the edge of hearing, a sort of sound that could only be described by the word "zhweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen".
It was getting louder by the second.
Vimes turned around just in time to see something glowing and orange hit hit the Ankh with a very loud "gloop." He stared at the hole.
And then it exploded.
"Bloody hell!" Vimes said faintly, staggering down the stares.
He was sopping wet, and dripping polluted liquids onto the floor.
"Alchemists Guild explode again, sir?" Littlebottom asked, barely glancing up.
"No," mumbled Vimes. "The river."
_________
To Be Continued!