Discworld.20.Hogfather.1996 by Pratchett Terry

Author:Pratchett, Terry [Pratchett, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?” said the oh god. He took Susan by the shoulders.

They felt bony under his hands.

“DAMN,” said Susan. She pushed him away and steadied herself on the table, taking care that he didn’t see her face.

Finally, with a measure of the self-control she’d taught herself over the last few years, she managed to get her own voice back.

“He’s slipping out of character,” she muttered, to the hall in general. “I can feel him doing it. And that drags me in. What’s he doing it all for?”

“Search me,” said the oh god, who’d backed away hurriedly. “Er…just then…before you turned your face away…it looked as though you were wearing very dark eye shadow…only you weren’t…”

“Look, it’s very simple,” said Susan, spinning round. She could feel her hair restyling itself, which it always did when it was anxious. “You know how stuff runs in families? Blue eyes, buck teeth, that sort of thing? Well, Death runs in my family.”

“Er…in everybody’s family, doesn’t it?” said the oh god.

“Just shut up, please, don’t gabble,” said Susan. “I didn’t mean death, I meant Death with a capital D. I remember things that haven’t happened yet and I can TALK THAT TALK and stalk that stalk and…if he gets sidetracked, then I’ll have to do it. And he does get sidetracked. I don’t know what’s really happened to the real Hogfather or why Grandfather’s doing his job, but I know a bit about how he thinks and he’s got no…no mental shields like we have. He doesn’t know how to forget things or ignore things. He takes everything liter ally and logically and doesn’t understand why that doesn’t always work—”

She saw his bemused expression.

“Look…how would you make sure everyone in the world was well fed?” she demanded.

“Me? Oh, well, I…” The oh god spluttered for a moment. “I suppose you’d have to think about the prevalent political systems, and the proper division and cultivation of arable land, and—”

“Yes, yes. But he’d just give everyone a good meal,” said Susan.

“Oh, I see. Very impractical. Hah, it’s as silly as saying you could clothe the naked by, well, giving them some clothes.”

“Yes! I mean, no. Of course not! I mean, obviously you’d give—oh, you know what I mean!”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“But he wouldn’t.”

There was a crash beside them.

A burning wheel always rolls out of flaming wreckage. Two men carrying a large sheet of glass always cross the road in front of any comedy actor involved in a crazy car chase. Some narrative conventions are so strong that equivalents happen even on planets where the rocks boil at noon. And when a fully laden table collapses, one miraculously unbroken plate always rolls across the floor and spins to a halt.

Susan and the oh god watched it, and then turned their attention to the huge figure now lying in what remained of an enormous centerpiece made of fruit.

“He just…came right out of the air,” whispered the oh god.

“Really? Don’t just stand there. Give me a hand to help him up, will you?” said Susan, pulling at a large melon.

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