Chapter 5 : Patchwork Man

Tom woke up. He was aching all over. He looked around. He was lying on a road. There were several people surrounding him. They did not appear to be trying to attack him, rob him, or kick him. He took that as a positive sign, and crumpled back down on the wet, mossy cobblestones of the road.

Suddenly, he was lifted off the ground by the back of his shirt. A loud voice that could only be described as gravelly shouted,

'IS YOU AWARE DAT YOU IS CAUSIN' AN PUBLIC DISTURBANCE?!'

'I am not aware that I am, sir. Could you put me down please, my good sir?' said Tom nervously.

'IS YOU RESISTIN' ARREST?! DAT IS NOT A SMART MOVE, I AM WARNIN' YOU!' barked the troll.

'That's enough Detritus. Put the poor man down.' ordered a burly young man with wavy orange hair.

Sergeant Detritus dropped Tom onto the cold, hard cobbles. He shrunk into a sad heap of clothes and flesh.

'YES CARROT, SIR!' shouted Detritus. There was a 'CLINK' as he saluted.

'Take this young man away, and put him in a cellar in the Watch House.' said Carrot calmly, turning away, 'Oh, and send him over to Igor. He looks pretty bad.'

'YES CAPTAIN SIR!'

Captain Carrot continued his patrol, legs swinging like pendulums as he strolled down the street in a leisurely copper's gait.

'ALL RIGHT DEN, YOU 'ORRIBLE LITTLE MAN, YOU 'EARD DER CAPTAIN, GET UP AN' WE BE GOING TO DER WATCH HOUSE!' barked Detritus.

'Excuse me, sir?' said Tom hesitantly.

'YES?'

'Could you not talk so loud, sir? Only, it's hurting my ears.' explained Tom.

'Oh, all right den. Now are you comin', or will I have to make you?' threatened the sergeant.

Tom tried to get up, but a sharp pain in his leg made him slump onto the hard cobbles again. Detritus lifted him up roughly by the back of his shirt.

'I guess dat I have to...' grumbled sergeant Detritus, and walked towards the Chittling Street Watch House, with Tom dangling from his hand.

Tom closed his eyes and groaned. He groaned until he felt better. Argh...his life was a mess. And where had it all started? Little blue men. Little blue men. He was gonna get those little blue men.

'Little blue men...' he giggled to himself ecstatically, while swaying with every giant step that the sergeant took, 'Little blue men!'

The sergeant looked at him with a quizzical expression on his face.

'Are you all right?' asked Detritus.

'What do you mean? I feel fine! I'm right as rain!' emphasized Tom, 'Little blue men...' he muttered darkly.

Detritus walked through the splintery wooden door of the Watch House. He tapped a zombie on the shoulder.

''Ey Reg, is you knowing if Igor is dere? Dis man is not in good shape.' asked the sergeant.

'I don't think he's in right now, but I can wait for him with this guy if you want.' said Corporal Reg Shoe, 'I've got a helluva lotta paperwork, an' if I don't finish it all, Vime's gonna go spare.'

'Fanks, an' good luck wid der paperwork.' concluded Detritus.

'Little blue men! Ahahahahhaahahah!' giggled the apprentice hysterically.

The Corporal ignored Tom's ecstatic giggles, and continued writing. He had seen his fair share of lunatics during his life and his undead life, and he wasn't about to let another one put him off his paperwork.

'I'm gonna get you, little blue men, so you'd better watch your back.' Tom threatened darkly, 'Muhahhhahhahahah!' Those little blue men...those fairies...had ruined his life. He was going to...going to KILL them...

Reg started to wonder whether the Watch House was the right place for him, since he obviously belonged in the Insane Asylum. Ah well, better wait until Igor comes...

The clock ticked on... Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The metal pendulum of the clock swung on... Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The minute and the hour hands moved slowly towards the XII on the old grandfather clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The hour hand and the minute hand moved over the XII on the face of the ancient clock. GONG. GONG. GONG. GONG. GONG. GONG. GONG. GONG. GONG. GONG. GONG. GONG.

All over the city, the bells sounded. Over in the old quarter of Ankh, in Unseen University, the old, cracked, single bell the wizards called Old Tom tolled out twelve sonorous silences.

Where the hell is that Igor, thought Reg Shoe to himself. Ah well, I'll call him.

'Igor! Are you there?!' shouted Shoe, looking up the stairs.

'Yeth! I'll be down in a moment, Corporal Thoe!' a husky, foreign sounding voice called.

A man that looked like a human version of a patchwork quilt lurched down the stairs. His face was a network of scars and stitches. His name was Igor. People like that usually have names like that.

'Well, what ith it? Don't tell me that I came all the way downthtairs just to say hello.' lisped Igor, scars crawling down his face.

'Igor, there's a young man 'ere who need your help. He got run over by a cart.' said Reg explanatorily.

'Thith does not look good.' pondered Igor, 'I thall have to operate on this young man. Please carry him into the bathement for me. I think I thall need to uthe a device that ith still in the exthperimental stage, anaestheticth.'

They walked down the stairs into the unknown.

'Thet scunner didnae seem tae heppy tae meet us. Well, we must be offski! Lead on, Awf'lly Titchy!' said the leader of the feegles.

The pictsies blurred, and vanished into the distance.

 It is always a wise move to be polite to strangers. Especially when the person in question has just lifted you two feet of the ground, and is proceeding to yell your eardrums out.

 Corporal Reg Shoe was a proud activist of undead rights, and he stuck posters on the insides of coffins that said:

TODAY COULD BE THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!

Just because you are dead doesn't mean you have to lie down and do nothing! JOIN THE UNDEAD UNION TODAY!! EVERY 'BODY' COUNTS!!

in 15 different languages and in various dialects. He was also against speciesism, and had a dream that every man, troll, dwarf, vampire or werewolf, dead or alive, should have equal rights.

 People on the Disc were not racist. There was no point in discriminating people for their colour when they had far more interesting things like species to discriminate.

 Old Tom was an ancient bell put in the Tower of Art hundreds of years ago. Its clapper had fallen out shortly after it had been hung up, but it still tolled out deafening silences every hour.

 Igor left his native Uberwald for Ankh Morpork, as when he was in Uberwald, he hated the traditional idea. Besides, he could never get used to lisping and calling people 'Marthter'.