Hogfather - Terry Pratchett [125]
Ridcully, never being a man to wonder what any kind of switch did when it was so much easier and quicker to find out by pulling it, did so. But instead of the music he was expecting he was rewarded simply with several large panels sliding silently aside, revealing row upon row of brass nozzles.
The Librarian was lost now, dreaming on the wings of music. His hands and feet danced over the keyboards, picking their way toward the crescendo which ended the first movement of Bubbla’s Catastrophe Suite.
One foot kicked the “Afterburner” lever and the other spun the valve of the nitrous oxide cylinder.
Ridcully tapped the nozzles.
Nothing happened. He looked at the controls again, and realized that he’d never pulled the little brass lever marked “Organ Interlock.”
He did so. This did not cause a torrent of pleasant bath-time accompaniment, however. There was merely a thud and a distant gurgling, which grew in volume.
He gave up, and went back to soaping his chest.
“—running of the deer, the playing of…huh? What—”
Later that day he had the bathroom nailed up again and a notice placed on the door, on which was written:
“Not to be used in any circumstances. This is IMPORTANT.”
However, when Modo nailed the door up he didn’t hammer the nails in all the way but left just a bit sticking up so that his pliers would grip later on, when he was told to remove them. He never presumed and he never complained, he just had a good working knowledge of the wizardly mind.
They never did find the soap.
Ponder and his fellow students watched Hex carefully.
“It can’t just, you know, stop,” said Adrian “Mad Drongo” Turnipseed.
“The ants are just standing still,” said Ponder. He sighed. “All right, put the wretched thing back.”
Adrian carefully replaced the small fluffy teddy bear above Hex’s keyboard. Things immediately began to whir. The ants started to trot again. The mouse squeaked.
They’d tried this three times.
Ponder looked again at the single sentence Hex had written.
+++ Mine! Waaaah! +++
“I don’t actually think,” he said, gloomily, “that I want to tell the Archchancellor that this machine stops working if we take its fluffy teddy bear away. I just don’t think I want to live in that kind of world.”
“Er,” said Mad Drongo, “you could always, you know, sort of say it needs to work with the FTB enabled…?”
“You think that’s better?” said Ponder, reluctantly. It wasn’t as if it was even a very realistic interpretation of a bear.
“You mean, better than ‘fluffy teddy bear’?”
Ponder nodded. “It’s better,” he said.
Of all the presents he got from the Hogfather, Gawain told Susan, the best of all was the marble.
And she’d said, what marble?
And he’d said, the glass marble I found in the fireplace. It wins all the games. It seems to move in a different way.
The beggars walked their erratic and occasionally backward walk along the city streets, while fresh morning snow began to fall.
Occasionally one of them belched happily. They all wore paper hats, except for Foul Ole Ron, who’d eaten his.
A tin can was passed from hand to hand. It contained a mixture of fine wines and spirits and something in a can that Arnold Sideways had stolen from behind a paint factory in Phedre Road.
“The goose was good,” said the Duck Man, picking his teeth.
“I’m surprised you et it, what with that duck on your head,” said Coffin Henry, picking his nose.
“What duck?” said the Duck Man.
“What were that greasy stuff?” said Arnold Sideways.
“That, my dear fellow, was pâté de foie gras. All the way from Genua, I’ll wager. And very good, too.”
“Dun’arf make you fart, don’t it?”
“Ah, the world of haute cuisine,” said the Duck Man happily.
They reached, by fits and starts, the back door of their favorite restaurant. The Duck Man looked at it dreamily, eyes filmy with recollection.
“I used to dine here almost every night,” he said.
“Why’d you stop?” said Coffin Henry.
“I…I don’t really know,” said the Duck Man. “It’s…rather a blur, I’m afraid. Back in the days when I…think I was someone else. But still,” he said, patting Arnold’s head, “as