Hogfather

the… house. If you could call it a house. No one said much about it, but every so often you just had to get out. It didn't feel right, inside.

He shivered. ‘Where's himself?’ he said.

‘Oh, up at the top,’ said Medium Dave. ‘Still trying to open that room.’

‘The one with all the locks?’

‘Yeah.’

Medium Dave was rolling a cigarette. Inside the house… or tower, or both, or whatever… you couldn't smoke, not properly. When you smoked inside it tasted horrible and you felt sick.

‘What for? We done what we came to do, didn't we? Stood there like a bunch of kids and watched that wet wizard do all his chanting it was all I could do to keep a straight face. What's he after now?’

‘He just said if it was locked that bad he wanted to see inside.’

‘I thought we were supposed to do what we came for and go!’

‘Yeah? You tell him. Want a roll-up?’

Chickenwire took the bag of tobacco and relaxed. ‘I've seen some bad places in my time, but this takes the serious biscuit.’

‘Yeah.’

‘It's the cute that wears you down. And there's got to be something else to eat than apples.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And that damn sky. That damn sky is really getting on my nerves.’

‘Yeah.’

They kept their eyes averted from that damn sky. For some reason, it made you feel that it was about to fall on you. And it was worse if you let your eyes stray to the gap where a gap shouldn't be. The effect was like getting toothache in your eyeballs.

In the distance Banjo was swinging on a swing. Odd, that, Dave thought. Banjo seemed perfectly happy here.

‘He found a tree that grows lollipops yesterday,’ he said moodily. ‘Well, I say yesterday, but how can you tell? And he follows the man around like a dog. No one ever laid a punch on Banjo since our mam died. He's just like a little boy, you know. Inside. Always has been. Looks to me for everything. Used to be, if I told him “punch someone”, he'd do it.’

‘And they stayed punched.’

‘Yeah. Now he follows him around everywhere. It makes me sick.’

‘What are you doing here, then?’

‘Ten thousand dollars. And he says there's more, you know. More than we can imagine.’

He was always Teatime.

‘He ain't just after money.’

‘Yeah, well, I didn't sign up for world domination,’ said Medium Dave. ‘That sort of thing gets you into trouble.’

‘I remember your mam saying that sort of thing,’ said Chickenwire. Medium Dave rolled his eyes. Everyone remembered Ma Lilywhite. ‘Very straight lady, was your ma. Tough but fair.’

‘Yeah… tough.’

‘I recall that time she strangled Glossy Ron with his own leg,’ Chickenwire went on. ‘She had a wicked right arm on her, your mam.’

‘Yeah. Wicked.’

‘She wouldn't have stood for someone like Teatime.’

‘Yeah,’ said Medium Dave.

‘That was a lovely funeral you boys gave her. Most of the Shades turned up. Very respectful. All them flowers. An' everyone looking so…’ Chickenwire floundered ‘…happy. In a sad way, o' course.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Have you got any idea how to get back home?’

Medium Dave shook his head.

‘Me neither. Find the place again, I suppose.’ Chickenwire shivered. ‘I mean, what he did to that carter… I mean, well, I wouldn't even act like that to me own dad—’

‘Yeah.’

‘Ordinary mental, yes, I can deal with that. But he can be talking quite normal, and then—’

‘Yeah.’

‘Maybe the both of us could creep up on him and—’

‘Yeah, yeah. And how long'll we live? In seconds!

‘We could get lucky —’ Chickenwire began.

‘Yeah? You've seen him. This isn't one of those blokes who threatens you. This is one of those blokes who'd kill you soon as look at you. Easier, too. We got to hang on, right? It's like that saying about riding a tiger.’

‘What saying about riding a tiger?’ said Chickenwire suspiciously.

‘Well…’ Medium Dave hesitated. ‘You… well, you get branches slapping you in the face, fleas, that sort of thing. So you got to hang on. Think of the money. There's bags of it in there. You saw it.’

‘I keep thinking of that glass eye watching me. I keep thinking it can see right in my head.’

‘Don't worry, he doesn't suspect you of anything.’

‘How d'you know?’

‘You're still alive, yeah?’

In the Grotto of the Hogfather, a round-eyed child.

HAPPY HOGSWATCH. HO. HO. HO. AND YOUR NAME IS… EUPHRASIA COAT, CORRECT?

‘Go on, dear, answer the nice man.’

‘'s.’

AND YOU ARE SIX YEARS OLD.

‘Go on, dear. They're all the same at this age, aren't they…’

‘'s.’

AND YOU WANT A PONY

‘'s.’ A small hand pulled the Hogfather's hood down to mouth level. Heavy Uncle Albert heard a ferocious whispering. Then the Hogfather leaned back.

YES, I KNOW. WHAT A NAUGHTY PIG IT WAS, INDEED.

His shape flickered for a moment, and then a hand went into the sack.

HERE IS A BRIDLE FOR YOUR PONY, AND A SADDLE, AND A RATHER STRANGE HARD HAT AND A PAIR OF THOSE TROUSERS THAT MAKE YOU LOOK AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A LARGE RABBIT IN EACH POCKET.

‘But we can't have a pony, can we, Euffie, because we live on the third floor…’

OH, YES. IT'S IN THE KITCHEN.

‘I'm sure you're making a little joke, Hogfather,’ said Mother, sharply.

HO. HO. YES. WHAT A JOLLY FAT MAN I AM. IN THE KITCHEN? WHAT A JOKE. DOLLIES AND SO ON WILL BE DELIVERED LATER AS PER YOUR LETTER.

‘What do you say, Euffie?’

‘' nk you.’

‘'ere, you didn't really put a pony in their kitchen, did you?’ said Heavy Uncle Albert as the line moved on.

DON'T BE FOOLISH, ALBERT. I SAID THAT TO BE JOLLY.

‘Oh, right. Hah, for a minute—’

IT'S IN THE BEDROOM.

‘Ah…’

MORE HYGIENIC.

‘Well, it'll make sure of one thing,’ said Albert. ‘Third floor? They're going to believe all right.’

YES. YOU KNOW, I THINK I'M GETTING THE HANG OF THIS. HO. HO. HO.