Chapter 2 : Pink Bunny Slippers
After one hour lying in bed not wanting to get up, Tom finally yawned, stretched, and got out of bed. He ran out into the street, and sped in the direction of the Street of Cunning Artificers. On the way, he noticed people were staring at him oddly. Even Foul Ole Ron - the tramp who smelt so bad that his smell had a character - was eyeing him strangely, and saying,
'Oops! Buggrit...' in an unusual way. He wondered what everyone was staring at, as he ran down the street to the blacksmith's hut.
He ran through the doorway and skidded into the hot, smoky, furnace room.
'WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?!' screamed the blacksmith, who Tom only knew as sir.
'Mumblemumble, sir' stuttered Tom.
'Speak up lad!' shouted the grease-covered blacksmith.
'I had a weird dream sir, like a vision.' mumbled Tom.
'A vision? Of what?' inquired the blacksmith, calmer now.
'S-s-some little b-b-blue men with r-red hair, s-sir.' he managed.
'I have had some experience in such matters. People who see the sacred wolf are called shamans, people who see a venerable old man with a large beard are called priests, but people who see little blue men with red hair are called IDIOTS!' yelled the blacksmith. 'And what the HELL are you doing wearing your pink pyjamas into my hut?!'
Tom looked down at his shoes - wait...pink bunny slippers?! He felt his head...a fluffy nightcap?! Oh no...
'Crivens, what be that smell?! Wullie, ye didnae take off yer shoes did ye?' said Rob.
'Nae, but I can if ye be wantin' me tae.' answered Daft Wullie.
'Wullie?'
'Yes Rob?' said Wullie.
'Do ye remember when ye tol' me tae tell ye when ye sed somethin' stupid?'
'Yes Rob.'
'Thet was one o' those times.'
'Ah.'
They walked on towards the city gates. As they approached, the smell got worse.
'Wullie?' asked Rob.
'Yes Rob?'
'Are ye sure ye didnae take off yer shoes?'
'I swear tae the fact thet I be havin' the brains o' a beetle that I didnae tek me shoes off.'
'Fair enough then...' concluded Rob. 'Awf'lly Titchy?'
'Yes Rob?'
'What d'ye ken aboot this here city?'
'Lemme see now...hmm...' Awf'lly Titchy Billy rummaged around in his small backpack, and his hand darted back out triumphantly holding a brochure with the words 'Ankh Morpork - Citie of An Thousande Suprises' on it. 'Okie now, I'll read ye a bittie of this here brochure.'
All the pictsies stopped walking and instantly sat down on the cobbles. It was always a good idea to listen to the gonnagle. You never knew, it might always turn out to be interesting.
Billy started reading,
'Welcom to the citie of an thousande suprises. We hop you wille have a goode tyme in our quaint and folkloresque citie. Belowe is a liste of the areas in oure beatifulle citie.
The Shades
This is the oldeste and moste culturalle parte of oure citie, it echoes withe the soundes of the locales goinge aboute they're bussiness.'
'Well lads, thets all we be hevin' time fer, so we'd better offski now.' said Rob Anybody.
Grumbling and muttering, the Nac Mac Feegle got to their feet and trudged along the road towards the old, corroded gates of the city.
A member of the Beggars Guild. On his guild card, his category was classified as 'Foul Ole Ron'. This had caused much controversy among the members of the guild, but they eventually came to a conclusion that there was no category that described him fully. Even stinking, groaning, ratty, old bugger didn't fit him.
The city of Ankh Morpork had, over the years, developed its own unique smell. Many of the inhabitants had such a poor sense of smell that, if sprayed by a skunk, would walk around for a couple of hours before saying,
'What's that smell?'
The reason the city had such a strong smell was partly because of the Ankh, the river that the city was built over. On its path, it passed many fields that were full of cattle...and well...you know what I mean. Also, the absence of a proper sewage system³ in the city meant that the city emitted a smell of...well...human waste.
³ In Ankh, the toilet was a bucket and the waste disposal system was the window.
In other words, you have been warned.