Chapter 4
With the Ankh Morpork Annual Show just a day away John knew he still had a mountain to climb. This wasn't a problem. Since he had dreamed his dream everything John had needed had been easily obtained. He wasn't quite sure how he'd done it. Somehow John, a previously dull and uneducated man, had known exactly what to say to get what he needed. He was a little concerned, normally he had to think long and hard about what to say to people but recently the words had just formed on his lips with his brain being somewhat uninvolved in the process. The clothes, the contraption, it had all fallen into place and that, at the end of the day, was what mattered. Wasn't it?
As he considered his next problem John was roused from his thoughts by a sudden, loud cry.
"GERROUTATHEBLOODYWAYYABLOODYIDIOT". Turning to face the source of the noise he saw a runaway cart, its horse wild eyed, foaming at the mouth and showing no sign of stopping. It was heading straight for him. A strange force took hold of John. While he should have been considering a return to the tailors for a change of trousers, he actually found himself leaping to one side, his hand snaked out and caught hold of the reins and, before the force of the charging horse could rip his arm from its socket, he had vaulted expertly onto the horse's back. Quite unsure of what to do next, John held on for dear life. Then, with no warning at all, the horse turned into a busy street full of pedestrians. Careering up the road, the horse, cart, the carts owner and a terrified John bore down on a small boy who had been a little slower than most to clear a path. A huge figure stepped into its path and in a move that defied the laws of physics the horse stopped instantly. The sudden halt caused John to fly over the horses head, landing in a heap some ten yards away. Looking back he saw the massive physical form of Sergeant Detritus, his arm, ending in a huge fist, still outstretched before him. The horse lay stunned on the ground. The carts owner clambered down and looked at his horse.
"You bloody flat footed pile of rocks. Look what you've done to my horse," the man said in an amazing display of bravado bought on by a general lack of intelligence. "What did you do that for", he continued in a similarly suicidal manner.
"Woz speeding", Detritus replied. "Doin' lots in a many zone", he continued.
"Speeding", he shouted incredulously. "I was out of control".
"Den dat is driving wivout….." Detritus' brow furrowed in a moment of concentration, "…undo care and attenshun", he finished and presented the man with a ticket. Quietly seething, and realising that arguing with Detritus was, in a very literal sense, like arguing with a brick wall, he turned his attentions to John.
"And you, jumping out of nowhere, spooking my horse like that."
"I think, sir, that your horse was already well out of control before my interference. If anything I came to your aid", replied John. Approaching the man he gripped his hand and shook it firmly.
"Well you didn't do much of a job, did you? Look at my horse, fit for the knackers yard. What am I gonna do with a cart and no horse?" asked the man dejectedly. "That's a full load of cabbages on there. How am I supposed to deliver them now?"
"It might be your lucky day", John told him. "Let's have a little chat."
Later, the former cart owner wondered why he had given the man his cart. He had gone on about contributing to humanity, about doing his bit. It had all sounded so… convincing. He wondered what the man wanted it for, and why did he want all those cabbages. He also wondered how he was going to explain it all to the customer who had paid cash up front for the delivery.
