Disclaimer: Not mine.

Blank Ned: Thanks, not many people call my humour 'humour', more 'weird' so I'm flattered you think that! Not so quick this time, my inventive side did a runner.

Cracking Stuff

Jim dragged Moist down the hotel stairs and into the nearest pub. It was called The Jar and Pickle for reasons unknown.

"Jim, this really isn't a good idea you know. And let go of my arm, that sort of thing is frowned upon around here." Moist snatched his arm out of Jim's grasp.

"There you go Mr Lipwig, this'll relax you!" Jim offered Moist a tankard of Fanghop Ale, the pub's finest, and bought himself two. "Now, we'll just sit down on this sofa out of the way and no one will bother you." Jim coaxed Moist across the room with a bag of nuts and sat down on a large, well used, leather sofa. As Moist looked around the pub he noticed that everyone had gone silent and all eyes were on them. He gave the bar area a sheepish smile and turned to Jim.

"I think we've done something wrong! They're all staring!" Moist glanced behind him. Heads moved away quickly.

"We're just havin' a little drink Mr Lipwig, don't you worry, they're probably curious. We're strangers, that's all. Me and Harry stare at foreigners all the time back in Ankh-Morpork." Jim soothed, happy now he had a drink in his hand.

Just then one of the men around the bar made to approach them. Before he could get fully off his stool his friend gripped his arm, shaking his head slightly. The man sat down and turned back to the bar.

"Jim did you see that! They're plotting something I just know it. He was going to warn us, I could tell!"

"You should get a job as a fortune teller, Mr L. You'd be great." Fanghop Ale was very strong.

Suddenly the door banged open and several pickpockets who were gathered around it were flattened to the wall. People should know better than to stand in front of doors that open inwards. A large man with a beard walked in with two slightly smaller men behind him. They headed straight to the bar which was suddenly devoid of a queue. Moist saw the man and turned pale.

"Jim! Jim! It's him! It's Fred Gothen! He's here, and he's over there!"

"All at the same time Mr Lipwig? You foreigners are quite talented really aren't you?" As Jim noticed Frederick too he gulped. "Er..."

The human mountain approached them with an angry look on his face. He looked like a soft version of Mr Pump.

"You're on my sofa." the man rumbled, "Get out."

Moist stood up but was pushed back down again by a hand the size of his head.

"Not you, just your dvarf here. I vant to talk to you." Frederick growled in bad Morporkish.

Moist turned slightly paler as Jim stood up and looked at Fred. "Now look here you, I'm not a dwarf. No one calls me a dwarf and gets away with it." The two lackeys grabbed an ankle each, pulling Jim over. They dragged him across the floor and into the mens' toilet. "I'll get you, you see if I don't. Don't worry Mr Lipwig, I'll be right out and then..." Jim was cut off as the door closed.

"Now zen Lipvig, I've got a bean to pick viz you." Languages weren't Fred's strong point. He could however say "'Ere, that bloke's lookin' at me funny" in forty different languages and dialects.

"Er... right. Is this about that money? Because I've got it on me, you can have it. If it's not then er... I'll be going..."

"What? No! Let's talk properly Lipwig, you're babbling like a two year old and it's driving me mad!" Gothen's stash of Morporkish had expired.

"That's fine. Sorry. Twenty Marcks was it? Here look, brand new notes and..."

"Twenty? Last I knew it was five hundred." Frederick grinned evilly at Moist.

"Five hundred? B-b-b... where am I supposed to get that much money?" Moist squeaked.

"You invented stamps didn't you? Very clever, I must say. Well if you really can't get the money I suppose I could let you off..."

"That would be very decent of you Frederick, it really would. If you like I could..." Moist felt his head hit the table. "...gff oo th twetty."

Frederick put his shoe on Moist's head. "I can't really afford to let my reputation slip though can I? I'd have people swindling me all over the place." He applied pressure. Moist heard a yell, a crack and a scream. He saw the landlord nonchalantly polishing a bottle, Jim running towards him wearing Klatchian headgear, then black.

Moist opened his eyes to a blur. Then something glinting... more black, a face. "Why are you wearing a dress Jim?" He blinked again to clear the fog.

IT'S NOT A DRESS, IT'S A CLOAK. AND MY NAME ISN'T JIM.

In certain situations a blur is a virtue. The face became a skull and Moist let out a high pitched scream. "Is this some kind of joke? What's happening?

YOU'RE DEAD.

"I can't be dead! My wife's pregnant! Oh no, she's going to kill me!" Moist put his head in his hands.

THAT'S A LITTLE REDUNDANT NOW ISN'T IT?

Moist glared at Death. "I suppose you think this is funny?"

NOT AT ALL. WELL, YOU GET A FEW... BUT NORMALLY IT'S QUITE MUNDANE. Death turned away from Moist and started to walk down the beach. FOLLOW ME.

"I don't want to! I want to go home. What's Jim doing instead of making me alive again?" Moist looked around frantically for an escape.

YOU CAN STAY HERE IF YOU LIKE. YOUR FRIEND IS CURRENTLY WRITING A LETTER TO YOUR WIFE TELLING HER YOU'RE DEAD BUT HE DIDN'T DO IT SO SHE'S NOT TO WORRY.

"Hmm, that'll make her feel better."

HAVE YOU GOT INSURANCE?

"What? No, I wasn't intending to die! What kind of question is that?" Moist stood up and began to follow the cloaked figure.

IF YOU HAD INSURANCE SHE COULD HAVE PASSED IT OFF AS AN ACCIDENT AND CLAIMED. THAT WOULD HAVE MADE HER FEEL BETTER.

Moist glared at death angrily. "Thanks for that, I'll remember next time. Note to future self: must get insurance."

GOOD IDEA. YOU'VE GOT A VERY STRANGE NAME THOUGH. ANY IDEA WHERE IT CAME FROM?

"I don't like to talk about it. It's a very sensitive subject. I was teased a lot at school."

I CAN IMAGINE. MY GRANDDAUGHTER SUSAN WAS TEASED TOO, BUT THAT WAS PARTLY MY FAULT, I THINK.

Moist gaped in disbelief. "You had children? How by Blind Io did that work?"

MY DAUGHTER IS ADOPTED. AND AS FOR YOUR NEXT QUESTION YES I WAS ALLOWED TO ADOPT. PEOPLE FIND IT HARD TO SAY NO TO ME FOR SOME REASON.

Moist nodded. "Where does that door go?"

Et voila! Yes I know, badly quoted French, how cliché. Well there's chapter four with a very random ending that was my poor attempt at a cliffy. I'm so bad at them that even I keep looking for the rest of the chapter.

And another note about the language: not sure what they speak in Ankh-Morpork and it would take me far too long to find out, sorry. Death's sentences looked better when I typed them because they were formatted differently but the site won't take it so... no matter.