Susan sometimes told stories to her class. If an adult would've heard them, then they would decide that whoever came up with these tales must have an extraordinary amount of imagination. But then they would come across Susan's face, a shiny beacon of reason and rationality, and they'd be completely puzzled. Eventually most people just mumbled something about 'hidden depths', since they had better things to do with their time then figuring out this puzzle.
The stories Susan told were of course true. But for many adults it was probably better to stick with the hidden-depths-theory.
It was a Friday afternoon when Susan took the fairytale book from the cupboard. Not that she ever actually used it, but there seemed to be a certain consensus that she'd at least pretend to read from the book.
The children were supposed to finish their drawings, but their eyes were all fixed on the book from the moment Susan reached for it.
"All right children. After all the hard work of today I shall now read a story." Susan carefully took the book in her arms and sat behind her desk again. She placed it slowly on her desk and opened it as if she was almost too afraid to break it. Most children were holding their breath without knowing it.
In a way the almost worshipping attitude towards the storybook seemed very silly to Susan. But stories did have power and words should never be used lightly. If the children got a feeling for that thanks to the little show, then that was only a good thing.
"Since Gwen answered most of the math questions correctly, she may now choose a story." Gwen's face immediately beamed with pride. Getting a silver star for your work was one thing, but determining the story was a much greater honour. So she spend quite some time thinking. Big choices like these should not be taken lightly.
"Hurry Gwen, or there will be no more time for a story." Susan said impatiently. Gwen was shocked and immediately blurped out: "The Hogfather!"
Susan nodded and carefully turned the pages to the story about the Hogfather. It was a story in which every word screamed 'cheerful' and also 'completely bollocks'. Susan decided that this one too needed some minor changes.
"Once upon a time Susan was lying in her bed when she heard a knocking on her window. She saw the well-known dead rat and the talking raven outside and knew it was yet again time to help the supernatural." Susan couldn't help but saying it with a bit of resentment. There was an unspoken agreement that if the students never asked whether the Susan in the stories was their teacher, they could all just silently assume so.
"Susan quickly opened her window as she couldn't wait to take on the exciting next adventure." Okay, so it was only slightly based on the truth. But that was the problem with kids: they thought moving dead rats and talking birds were the most normal thing in the world. But a person, who doesn't thoroughly enjoy to save the world from impending doom at great personal risk, is just too farfetched.
"The rat and the raven quickly hopped inside and immediately the rat hastily began to talk. SQUEACK SQUEE SQUEACK he said. By now Susan had learned to understand the rat and she soon realized she had to go and search for Gouter, one of the Hogfather's pigs.
'But how could he have lost him?' Susan asked.
The rat simply lifted his shoulders.
'All right then,' Susan said. 'just let me pack some things and I'm ready to go!" Telling a story was one thing, but the fake enthusiasm Susan had to express was almost too much for her.
"Susan was soon outside of her house and let a long sharp whistle out. It didn't take long before Binky arrived."
Susan sighed before she proceeded with the story. Almost every child was by now in love with the beautiful white horse and she could no longer let Binky enter a story without a fully detailed description about his stunning looks and fearsome appearance.
She quickly raced through many adjectives and just blurped out any positive word she could think of, while the children were dreamily thinking about owning a horse like Binky. Then Susan cleared her throat and continued.
"Binky bowed down so that Susan could ride him. She quickly jumped on his shining back.
'Okay Binky,' Susan said. 'We need to find one of Hogfather's pigs. I sense he's somewhere in Ankh-Morpork. Can you take us there?'
Binky trampled with his hooves and took off. In just the blink of an eye was Susan brought to an unfamiliar place. It was a big open field, but not quite your normal field. Real fields don't have grass as green as this. Actually real fields hardly exist out of grass at all. It's just clover and other kinds of weed with a few flowers sticking out here and there. Grass had to fight hard to earn a small place between it. But this was a field with green grass all cut off at exactly the same height. Whoever owned this place must had either too much money or too much spare time. While Susan was looking around, she noticed a man approaching the field and yelling: 'Get off the grass! This is private property!'
He was a big man in luxurious clothing now standing at the far away edge of the field. Susan started walking towards the man, crushing the fragile grass with each step. The man moaned with each step.
'I said get off the grass!' he yelled again.
'I'm trying!' yelled Susan in return, but the man didn't seem very understanding of this. She sighed and looked at Binky. He snorted loudly.
'I know,' Susan responded. 'but it may be a good idea to keep this guy on our side.'
She jumped on Binky and as she dropped in the saddle, the horse lowered itself. Instead of floating a bit above the ground, he was now walking over it like a normal horse. Maybe even with a bit more force.
By the time Susan had reached the edge of the grass field, the shade of the man's head was almost purple.
'You ma'm better have a good explanation for this!'
'I'm sorry, but I was looking for my lost pig. Have you seen it?' Susan tried to sound and act as much ladylike and fragile as possible. She had a feeling the guy would go easy on poor, helpless ladies. At least his idea of a poor, helpless lady. He was probably a lot harsher on the real poor women of this city.
'Well yes, there was a lost pig who turned up here a few days ago. But I still don't know what you were doing on the grass!' the man yelled, trying to get some of his anger back.
'Where else would a pig be?' Susan said correctingly and using her teacher-voice. If you were a real teacher (and this was a broad definition of a teacher, for the old beggar who taught the youngster his tricks was in a way a teacher as well) you somehow automatically got that voice. A certain tone that politely but firmly reprimanded the children. And because everybody was always taught something by someone, they all had shameful memories connected to the voice.
'Well, yes, eh…' the man therefore said quietly while staring at his feet.
'My point exactly. So can you please lead me to the pig?' A shocking thought occurred to Susan and for a moment she forgot about looking like a real lady. 'You haven't eaten it, have you?'
'No ma'm, rest assured. I'll take you to him.' he said still a bit confused by the recent events, but without forgetting to offer Susan his arm.
'You are most kind, good sir.' she replied.
A little while later they arrived at a stable. Or at least something which used to be a stable. Susan didn't know exactly what it was right now, but a real stable most certainly didn't have pink wallpaper, pink cushions and pink curtains.
'Daddydaddydaddy.' An enthusiastic cry came from behind the stable and a small child ran towards the man.
'Hello Clouphellia.' The man answered. Susan wondered who in a right mind could come up with that name. 'Can you show this nice young lady your piggie?'
Susan lifted an eyebrow. Her piggie? This would at least explain the interior of the stable.
'Yesyesyes!' the child yelled and dragged Susan with her back to the other side of the stable. There Gouter stood. How on earth could they have called him 'piggie'? Piggies are supposed to be cute and huggable. But Gouter was a real swine: big, dirty and mean looking. Still the child embraced him and cuddled him and hugged him and did at least twenty other things in the blink of an eye. Gouter didn't care. As long as he was being fed it didn't matter if there was some sort of big fly buzzing around his ears.
'Clouphellia,' Susan said with her stern teacher-voice. The girl immediately stood still. It was probably the only thing that would've gotten her attention.
'Yes, miss?' she asked quietly.
'How is it possible that you have this…pet? Answer me!'
'Found him.'
'Found him where?'
The girl shyly pointed towards the roof.
'Hmm.' Susan herself didn't even know exactly what that sound meant. But it didn't sound good and that's what was important. 'I'm afraid I'll have to take him with me.'
The father finally made a sound. It was a loud cough and then some mumbling. 'I'm afraid I can't let you do that, ma'm.'
Susan turned around and gave him a look, which would've made people give her all their food if she'd just close her eyes. But the man stood still. 'My daughter has taken quite a liking to it.'
'This pig is not hers, nor yours.' Susan said firmly.
'But it makes her smile.' The man managed to say with a very weak voice as if that was all that mattered.
Susan looked at the grand luxurious house. 'You have more than enough money to buy another pig.'
'Nootherpiggie, wantthispiggie, thispiggie.' The child started yelling.
The man was looking mighty uncomfortable. He had the teacher-voice on one side and his daughter's voice on the other. Susan decided this was pointless and talked to the one, who was in charge around here.
'Hello little girl,' she said 'do you like your piggie?'
Clouphellia heavily nodded, making everyone afraid her head would fall off.
'But I'm afraid that piggie isn't very happy here. He misses his home and his other piggies.'
The girl pouted. 'But this is his home now.'
This was the sign to switch to the teacher-voice. 'This isn't piggies home and you know it. He has to go back to where he belongs. Or do you want him to be unhappy?' That last question probably wasn't fair, because no one would answer 'yes' to such a thing. But Susan was starting to get tired of this.
'No.' the child therefore mumbled.
'So I'll just take piggie back to his home.'
The daughter nodded a bit, but it was a small movement compared to the heavy shaking and sniggering.
'Now, is there no other way?' her father asked desperately. But Susan had worked with children before. She knew how to handle this.
'Binky!' she yelled and soon the beautiful white horse stood next to here. Any sign of unhappiness from Clouphellia immediately went away as she stared in amazement. 'Iwannit, Iwannit, Iwannit!' she started yelling.
Susan used The Disapproving Finger. 'Now, now Clouphellia. This is my horse and not yours. But because you let piggie go back home, you can have a ride on it.'
'Yay!' Clouphellia happily screamed and Binky let her sit on his back, while he gave Susan some very threatening looks.
And after riding a circle around the house (and sometimes even above it when her father wasn't looking), Clouphellia happily waved Susan goodbye, while her dad still was busy wondering what the hell had happened."