Chapter 4 : Cardboard-Soled Shoes
'Sae, Arthur, how's the old ret-cetchin' business gaein? I heard thet ye were really daein' well, ye ken?' asked Rob Anybody.
'Well, right now its going pretty well, 'cept them bastards at the Rat Catcher Guild keep comin' in an' tryin' to steal my business. Las' time, I sen' two o' the buggers away wiv achin' behinds.' said Wee Mad Arthur.
'Guid tae see ye've bin keepin' up clan tradishuns.' replied Rob, encouragingly.
'How's stuff back a' the farm, Rob? I hear you go' a new kelda now.' said Arthur, chattily.
'Well, its business a' usual, ye ken, still protectin' the shipbeasties, askin' fer nuthin' in return.' replied Anybody.
''Ceptin' the occasional ship or coobeastie, an' things we fin' aroond the place, ye ken, in locked drawers an' such.' Wullie put in.
'Wullie?'
'Yes Rob?' said Daft Wullie, oblivious to the obvious.
'Thet wuz anuther o' them times.'
'Yes Rob.' said Wullie downheartedly.
'Well, Arthur, we cannae hang aroond all day, sae we'd better be offski now, we gotta visit oor buzzard. The one i' the Watch ye ken. I dae haepe thet oor friend Buggy be tekin guid care o' 'er' said Rob walking towards the door, 'But we'll be droppin' in on ye, sae be ready.'
'Ok then, see yez later.' said Wee Mad Arthur, and with that, he closed the worn door after them in rather a hurry.
'Bloody relatives...as if I haven' got problems o' my own, what with them authorities...' he muttered to himself darkly.
Tom trudged along the mossy cobbles of Ankh looking down at his feet, and musing on how bad his life was. He walked along, ignoring Dibbler's cries of 'Sausage-inna-bun!! Get 'em while 'ey're 'ot an' luvverly! So fresh the pig ha'n't noticed!'. He plodded along the wet pavement, heading towards his tiny shack in the shades, while grumbling and looking down at his worn, cardboard-soled shoes.
Suddenly, a horde of blue-and-red blurs zoomed right into him, and carried on moving. He was knocked over by the impact and fell into the road. A speeding cart, a big clay-transportation carriage charged towards him.
The world went black.
One of the oldest, most popular feegle traditions was the one where you beat the shit out of people meddling in your business. It is still used by many corporate businesses, except the pictsies preferred to use their heads. Literally.
Big, blobby things that go 'Moo' and eat grass.
It was about to get a lot worse.
It was drawn by bulls. He was wearing a red shirt. Need I say more?
It might have gone white...it's hard to tell with these situations.