Read Online The Wit And Wisdom Of Discworld by Stephen Briggs Terry Pratchett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen Briggs Terry Pratchett
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dogs, horses and dolphins never had any difficulty indicating to humans the vital news of the moment, e.g., that the three children were lost in the cave, or the train was about to take the line leading to the bridge that had been washed away or similar, while he, only a handful of chromosomes away from wearing a vest, found it difficult to persuade the average human to come in out of the rain.
*
‘A book has been taken. A book has been taken? You summoned the Watch,’ Carrot drew himself up proudly, ‘because someone’s taken a book? You think that’s worse than murder?’
The Librarian gave him the kind of look other people would reserve for people who said things like ‘What’s so bad about genocide?’
*
Jimkin Bearhugger’s Old Selected Dragon’s Blood Whiskey. Cheap and powerful, you could light fires with it, you could clean spoons. You didn’t have to drink much of it to be drunk, which was just as well.
*
It was the usual Ankh-Morpork mob in times of crisis; half of them were here to complain, a quarter of them were here to watch the other half, and the remainder were here to rob, importune or sell hot-dogs to the rest.
*
Vimes looked into the grinning, cadaverous face of Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, purveyor of absolutely anything that could be sold hurriedly from an open suitcase in a busy street and was guaranteed to have fallen off the back of an oxcart.
*
Anti-dragon cream. Personal guarantee: if you’re incinerated you get your money back, no quibble.’
‘What you’re saying,’ said Vimes slowly, ‘if I understand the wording correctly, is that if I am baked alive by the dragon you’ll return the money?’
‘Upon personal application,’ said Cut-Me-Own-Throat.
*
Vimes’d had a look at Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler’s dragon detectors, which consisted solely of a piece of wood on a metal stick. When the stick was burned through, you’d found your dragon. Like a lot of Cut-Me-Own-Throat’s devices, it was completely efficient in its own special way while at the same time being totally useless.
*
Ankh-Morpork did not have many hospitals. All the Guilds maintained their own sanitariums, but by and large medical assistance was nonexistent and people had to die inefficiently, without the aid of doctors. It wasgenerally thought that the existence of cures encouraged slackness and was in any case probably against Nature’s way.
It was a plate stacked high with bacon, fried potatoes and eggs. Vimes could hear his arteries panic just bh4 looking at it.
Captain Vimes limped forward from the shadows.
A small and extremely frightened golden dragon was clamped firmly under one arm. His other hand held it by the tail.
The rioters watched it, hypnotized.
‘Now I know what you’re thinking,’ Vimes went on, softly. ‘You’re wondering, after all this excitement, has it got enough flame left? And, y’know, I ain’t so sure myself…’
He leaned forward, sighting between the dragon’s ears, and his voice buzzed like a knife blade:
‘What you’ve got to ask yourself is: Am I feeling lucky?’
*
Vimes gave his men his usual look of resigned dismay.
‘My squad,’ he mumbled.
‘Fine body of men,’ said Lady Ramkin. ‘The good old rank and file, eh?’
‘The rank, anyway’ said Vimes.
*
It is difficult for an orang-utan to stand to attention. Its body can master the general idea, but its skin can’t. The Librarian was doing his best, however, standing in a sort of respectful heap at the end of the line and maintaining the kind of complex salute you can only achieve with a four-foot arm.
*
‘Do you think picking someone up by their ankles and bouncing their head on the floor comes under the heading of Striking a Superior Officer?’ said Carrot.
*
‘Ah, pageantry’ said the monarchist, pointing with his pipe. ‘Very important. Lots of spectacles.’
‘What, free?’ said Throat.
‘We-ell, I think maybe you have to pay for the frames,’ said the
*
‘A book has been taken. A book has been taken? You summoned the Watch,’ Carrot drew himself up proudly, ‘because someone’s taken a book? You think that’s worse than murder?’
The Librarian gave him the kind of look other people would reserve for people who said things like ‘What’s so bad about genocide?’
*
Jimkin Bearhugger’s Old Selected Dragon’s Blood Whiskey. Cheap and powerful, you could light fires with it, you could clean spoons. You didn’t have to drink much of it to be drunk, which was just as well.
*
It was the usual Ankh-Morpork mob in times of crisis; half of them were here to complain, a quarter of them were here to watch the other half, and the remainder were here to rob, importune or sell hot-dogs to the rest.
*
Vimes looked into the grinning, cadaverous face of Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler, purveyor of absolutely anything that could be sold hurriedly from an open suitcase in a busy street and was guaranteed to have fallen off the back of an oxcart.
*
Anti-dragon cream. Personal guarantee: if you’re incinerated you get your money back, no quibble.’
‘What you’re saying,’ said Vimes slowly, ‘if I understand the wording correctly, is that if I am baked alive by the dragon you’ll return the money?’
‘Upon personal application,’ said Cut-Me-Own-Throat.
*
Vimes’d had a look at Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler’s dragon detectors, which consisted solely of a piece of wood on a metal stick. When the stick was burned through, you’d found your dragon. Like a lot of Cut-Me-Own-Throat’s devices, it was completely efficient in its own special way while at the same time being totally useless.
*
Ankh-Morpork did not have many hospitals. All the Guilds maintained their own sanitariums, but by and large medical assistance was nonexistent and people had to die inefficiently, without the aid of doctors. It wasgenerally thought that the existence of cures encouraged slackness and was in any case probably against Nature’s way.
It was a plate stacked high with bacon, fried potatoes and eggs. Vimes could hear his arteries panic just bh4 looking at it.
Captain Vimes limped forward from the shadows.
A small and extremely frightened golden dragon was clamped firmly under one arm. His other hand held it by the tail.
The rioters watched it, hypnotized.
‘Now I know what you’re thinking,’ Vimes went on, softly. ‘You’re wondering, after all this excitement, has it got enough flame left? And, y’know, I ain’t so sure myself…’
He leaned forward, sighting between the dragon’s ears, and his voice buzzed like a knife blade:
‘What you’ve got to ask yourself is: Am I feeling lucky?’
*
Vimes gave his men his usual look of resigned dismay.
‘My squad,’ he mumbled.
‘Fine body of men,’ said Lady Ramkin. ‘The good old rank and file, eh?’
‘The rank, anyway’ said Vimes.
*
It is difficult for an orang-utan to stand to attention. Its body can master the general idea, but its skin can’t. The Librarian was doing his best, however, standing in a sort of respectful heap at the end of the line and maintaining the kind of complex salute you can only achieve with a four-foot arm.
*
‘Do you think picking someone up by their ankles and bouncing their head on the floor comes under the heading of Striking a Superior Officer?’ said Carrot.
*
‘Ah, pageantry’ said the monarchist, pointing with his pipe. ‘Very important. Lots of spectacles.’
‘What, free?’ said Throat.
‘We-ell, I think maybe you have to pay for the frames,’ said the
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