Chapter 5: The Pink Pussycat Club
The Pink Pussycat called itself a gentlemen's club but defined the word "gentleman" broad enough to include the likes of Nobby Nobbs. This says something about the flexibility of our language.(1)
After the flaming assistant cook had run by, Nobby had gathered himself up and had entered the building.
It wasn't half bad. Most of the explosion had been contained in the kitchen. Yes, the front windows had been blown out, but in fact, few patrons came into the Pink Pussycat Club to either eat dinner or to look out the windows.
Some of the tables near the kitchen had been knocked over, but they were quickly righted and again covered with drinks.
The python which Bubbles LaTushie had been dancing with had passed out in fright and had to be carried into the back so that smelling salts could be administered. One girl's scanty costume had been ripped away, but whether it had been a victim of the blast or of an overly enthusiastic patron was up for debate.
Sheik Rattlenrol and his men came charging in to the rescue.
The maître f'(2) smiled. "Table for eleven?"
The Sheik realized there was no need of a rescue. He became confused and embarrassed. Turning around, he surveyed his men. "Can anyone here count that high?" After being answer by heads shaking and eyes averted, he shrugged. "Sure."
Ali al-Khali blurted, "But Offler would never approve of this place."
The maître f' chuckled. "Offler? He has no powers here."
"Really?"
"Of course not. He's a Klatchian god. He's got no jurisdiction. As far as He's concerned, what goes on in Anhk-Morpork, stays in Anhk-Morpork."
Eleven pairs of eyes flickered back and forth as they took in this new information.
"You know what would be helpful," suggested Badi Badhbad, "if we were to stay and observe. That way, we'd learn the warning signs to keep an eye out for, so we can protect our womenfolk from this degradation."
When heads began to nod, the maître f' led them to a large table with a clear view of the stage. A pretty waitress wearing a vague rumor of clothing appeared seemingly from nowhere. "What would you gentlemen like to drink?"
Ali al-Khali shook his head. "Offler denies us alcohol."
Badi Badhbad interrupted, "But if we were to sample it, we'd know what to watch for back in Klatch, so we can protect our children from it."
Sheik Rattlenrol grinned. "Something with little plastic umbrellas in it, perhaps?" When suspicious eyes glared at him, he quickly explained, "I observed a glass being sipped once when I sailed to Quirm."
"Eleven desert oasises, er, oasisi," the waitress said and then departed.
No-Fear Nimr asked, "What were those things all over her body?"
"You mean the . . . curves."
"Yes. Do our women have curves?"
The men looked back and forth between each other. No one was really sure.
۞
Lefty Wright and Thug made their way cautiously through the dark streets towards the Anhk-Morpork Zoo. They crept from shadow to shadow, always listening for the tell-tale cry of "All is well!"
Suddenly: "Peter? Peter Wright? Is that you?"
The call from the woman's voice caused Lefty to freeze in panic.
"Peter, that is you!"
"No lady," croaked Lefty is a false voice. "You got the wrong man. My name ain't Peter."
"Peter, come in here please. There's someone you should meet."
"I ain't Peter. And no how, I ain't got time for no socializing."
"I want you to meet your son."
"Really?" squealed Thug bouncing up from behind a barrel. "Hey Lefty, ya hear that? Ya got yourself a kid!"
۞
Ali Badhboi, with Oh-Oh on his shoulder, crept through the shadows up to the very base of the Thieves' Guild. They had used the confusion following the fortuitous explosion in the Pink Pussycat to slip away into the darkness.
The Thieves' Guild was an imposing building with no windows whatsoever on the ground level. There was a shaded promenade around the periphery of the second level, but how to get up there? He thought about shinning up a drainpipe, but a quick check behind one revealed fishhooks which had obviously been dipped into some kind of smelly substance. Ali Badhboi's nose went numb just from a single sniff.
There was a trellis with rose vines woven into the grating, but each slat was less than a quarter of an inch thick; sure to loudly snap if any man put his weight on it. And the roses didn't look like normal roses, but he couldn't tell what was wrong with them.
There was no other way. He took Oh-Oh down from his shoulder. "Hey little guy, I need your help," he explained quietly. "In a moment, I'm going to heave you upon onto that promenade; see it? I need you to find a rope, tie one end of it onto one of those pillars, and then drop the other end of the rope down here to me. You think you can do that?"
Oh-Oh curled his lips. This was monkey talk for, "Sure thing, boss. No problemo." Or it could mean, "I don't understand a word of what you're saying." Or it could also mean, "I feel like taking a nap." Ali Badhboi chose to believe the first meaning.
He back up a few steps, got a good grip on Oh-Oh, and flung him. Oh-Oh let out a chirp of surprise, but after that, he was concentrating on landing safely. Which he did. He gave a quick glance around at Ali Badhboi, and then, as instructed, jumped down to go looking for a rope.
BOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW-WOW!
With a shriek, Oh-Oh came hurdling off the promenade. He landed on Ali Badhboi's head, which he grasped in terror. The monkey scooched around to look right in Ali Badhboi's face and then curled his lips. Ali Badhboi did not need a lip reader to tell him what the monkey was trying to convey.
۞
"Oh no!" gasped Sergeant Angua as Lance-Constable Detritus herded in another group of arrestees.
"Drunk an' disorderly, Sergeant" Detritus announced. "Duh whole lot o' dem. And dis one punched me inna eye."
Badi Badhbad sneered, "And also kicked you in the shin."
Ali al-Khali grinned. "I kicked him in the seat of his pants," he boasted.
"Eight? You arrested eight?" One was wearing a torn lampshade. Another had the seat of a chair broken over his head, and he hadn't bothered to remove it. A surprising number had remnants of tiny plastic umbrellas in their hair. Blood was dripping from more than one broken nose.
Mumbles of, "Eight? Who's missing" rippled around the group.
Angua pulled over her first booking form. "Okay, who's your leader?"
A chorus of, "He is," was followed by a thicket of fingers pointing every which way.
Angua counted fingers, and fixed her gaze on the suspect who'd gotten the most votes. "Name?"
"Sheik Rattlenrol."
She rolled her eyes. Some nights, she just wanted to transform herself into a werewolf and run around biting people. She tried again. "Your real name?"
1 Humpty Dumpty is reported to have said, "When I use a word, it means exactly what I want it to mean, no more, no less." But if he'd ever seen what the Pink Pussycat Club did to the definition of "gentleman," had have probably fallen off his wall in amazement.
2 The Pink Pussycat club was a couple of steps down from rating a maître d'.