Read Online Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents by Terry Pratchett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Terry Pratchett
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It didn't get confused by new smells. Other rats, if they knew how to read, could see in their heads what the writer had seen.
He'd invented maps. It was a drawing of the world.
'Amazing stuff, this new technology,' he said. 'So… there's poison marked here, two tunnels back. Did you see to it, Inbrine?'
'Buried and widdled on,' said Inbrine, his deputy. 'It was the grey No. 2 poison, too.'
'Good rat,' said Darktan. 'That's nasty eating.'
'There were dead keekees all round it.'
'I'll bet there were. No antidote for that stuff.'
'We found trays of No. 1 and No. 3 too,' said Inbrine. 'Lots of them.'
'You can survive No. 1 poison if you're sensible,' said Darktan. 'Remember that, all of you. And if you ever eat No. 3 poison, we've got some stuff that'll sort you out. I mean, you'll live in the end, but there'll be a day or two when you'd wish you were dead '
'There's lots of poison, Darktan,' said Inbrine, nervously. 'More than I've ever seen before. Rat bones all over the place.'
'Important safety tip there, then,' said Darktan, setting off along a new tunnel. 'Don't eat a dead rat unless you know what they died of. Otherwise you'll die of it, too.'
'Dangerous Beans says he thinks we shouldn't eat rats at all,' said Inbrine.
'Yeah, well, maybe,' said Darktan, 'but out in the tunnels you have to be practical. Never let good food go to waste. And someone wake up Nourishing!'
'A lot of poison,' said Inbrine, as the squad moved on. 'They must really hate rats here.'
Darktan didn't answer. He could see the rats were already getting nervous. There was a smell of fear in the rat runs. They'd never come across so much poison before. Darktan didn't usually worry about anything, and hated to feel the worry starting, deep in his bones
A small rat, out of breath, scurried up the tunnel and crouched in front of him.
'Kidney, sir, No. 3 Heavy Widdlers,' it burst out. 'We've found a trap, sir! Not like the usual sort! Fresh walked right into it! Please come!'
There was a lot of straw in the loft over the stables, and the heat of the horses coming up from below made it quite snug.
Keith was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling and to himself. Maurice was watching his lunch, which was twitching its nose.
Right up until the time he pounced, Maurice looked like a sleek killing machine. It all went wrong just before he jumped. His rear rose, it waggled faster and faster from side to side, his tail slashed at the air like a snake, and then he dived forward, claws out-
'Squeak!'
'OK, here's the deal,' said Maurice to the shivering ball in his claws. 'You just have to say something. Anything. "Let me go", maybe, or even "Help!" Squeak does not cut the mustard. It's just a noise. Just ask, and I'll let you go. No-one can say I'm not highly moral in that respect.'
' Squeak !' screamed the mouse.
'Fair enough,' said Maurice, and killed it instantly. He carried it back to the corner, where Keith was now sitting in the straw and finishing a pickled beef sandwich.
'It couldn't talk,' said Maurice, hurriedly.
'I didn't ask you,' said Keith.
'I mean, I gave it a chance,' said Maurice. 'You heard me, right? It only had to say it didn't want to be eaten.'
'Good.'
'It's all right for you, I mean, it's not as though you have to speak to sandwiches,' said Maurice, as if he was still bothered about something.
'I wouldn't know what to say to them,' said Keith.
'And I'd like to point out that I didn't play with it, either,' said Maurice. 'One swipe with the ol' paw and it was "goodbye, that's all she wrote" except that obviously the mouse didn't write anything, not being intelligent in any way .'
'I believe you,' said Keith.
'It never felt a thing,' Maurice went on.
There was a scream, from somewhere in a nearby street, and then the sound of crockery breaking. There had been quite a lot of that in the last half hour.
'Sounds like the lads are still at work,' said Maurice, carrying the dead mouse behind a pile of hay. 'Nothing
He'd invented maps. It was a drawing of the world.
'Amazing stuff, this new technology,' he said. 'So… there's poison marked here, two tunnels back. Did you see to it, Inbrine?'
'Buried and widdled on,' said Inbrine, his deputy. 'It was the grey No. 2 poison, too.'
'Good rat,' said Darktan. 'That's nasty eating.'
'There were dead keekees all round it.'
'I'll bet there were. No antidote for that stuff.'
'We found trays of No. 1 and No. 3 too,' said Inbrine. 'Lots of them.'
'You can survive No. 1 poison if you're sensible,' said Darktan. 'Remember that, all of you. And if you ever eat No. 3 poison, we've got some stuff that'll sort you out. I mean, you'll live in the end, but there'll be a day or two when you'd wish you were dead '
'There's lots of poison, Darktan,' said Inbrine, nervously. 'More than I've ever seen before. Rat bones all over the place.'
'Important safety tip there, then,' said Darktan, setting off along a new tunnel. 'Don't eat a dead rat unless you know what they died of. Otherwise you'll die of it, too.'
'Dangerous Beans says he thinks we shouldn't eat rats at all,' said Inbrine.
'Yeah, well, maybe,' said Darktan, 'but out in the tunnels you have to be practical. Never let good food go to waste. And someone wake up Nourishing!'
'A lot of poison,' said Inbrine, as the squad moved on. 'They must really hate rats here.'
Darktan didn't answer. He could see the rats were already getting nervous. There was a smell of fear in the rat runs. They'd never come across so much poison before. Darktan didn't usually worry about anything, and hated to feel the worry starting, deep in his bones
A small rat, out of breath, scurried up the tunnel and crouched in front of him.
'Kidney, sir, No. 3 Heavy Widdlers,' it burst out. 'We've found a trap, sir! Not like the usual sort! Fresh walked right into it! Please come!'
There was a lot of straw in the loft over the stables, and the heat of the horses coming up from below made it quite snug.
Keith was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling and to himself. Maurice was watching his lunch, which was twitching its nose.
Right up until the time he pounced, Maurice looked like a sleek killing machine. It all went wrong just before he jumped. His rear rose, it waggled faster and faster from side to side, his tail slashed at the air like a snake, and then he dived forward, claws out-
'Squeak!'
'OK, here's the deal,' said Maurice to the shivering ball in his claws. 'You just have to say something. Anything. "Let me go", maybe, or even "Help!" Squeak does not cut the mustard. It's just a noise. Just ask, and I'll let you go. No-one can say I'm not highly moral in that respect.'
' Squeak !' screamed the mouse.
'Fair enough,' said Maurice, and killed it instantly. He carried it back to the corner, where Keith was now sitting in the straw and finishing a pickled beef sandwich.
'It couldn't talk,' said Maurice, hurriedly.
'I didn't ask you,' said Keith.
'I mean, I gave it a chance,' said Maurice. 'You heard me, right? It only had to say it didn't want to be eaten.'
'Good.'
'It's all right for you, I mean, it's not as though you have to speak to sandwiches,' said Maurice, as if he was still bothered about something.
'I wouldn't know what to say to them,' said Keith.
'And I'd like to point out that I didn't play with it, either,' said Maurice. 'One swipe with the ol' paw and it was "goodbye, that's all she wrote" except that obviously the mouse didn't write anything, not being intelligent in any way .'
'I believe you,' said Keith.
'It never felt a thing,' Maurice went on.
There was a scream, from somewhere in a nearby street, and then the sound of crockery breaking. There had been quite a lot of that in the last half hour.
'Sounds like the lads are still at work,' said Maurice, carrying the dead mouse behind a pile of hay. 'Nothing
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