She picked up a chair and hit him scientifically over the head with it. A smile spread across his face, and he slumped forwards.
She picked him up easily and slung him over her shoulder. If Ruby had learned anything in Holy Wood, it was that there was no use in waiting around for Mr Right to hit you with a brick. You had to make your own bricks.
Click . . .
In a dwarf mine miles and miles from the loam of Ankh-Morpork, a very angry overseer banged on his shovel for silence and spoke thusly:
'I want to make this absolutely clear, right? One more, and I really mean it, one more, right? just one more Hihohiho out of you bloody lawn ornaments and it's double-headed axe time, OK? We're dwarfs, godsdammit. So act like them. And that includes you, Dozy!
Click . . .
Make-my-day, Call-me-Mr-Thumpy hopped to the top of the dune and peered over. Then he slid back down again.
'All clear,' he reported. ,'No humans. Just ruins.'
'A playshe of our own,' said -the cat, happily. 'A playshe where all animals, regardlesh of shape or speciesh, can live together in perfect?'
The duck quacked. ,
'The duck says', said Call-me-Mr-Thumpy-and-die, 'it's got to be worth a try. If we're going to be sapient, we might as well get good at it. Come on.'
Then he shivered. There had been something like a faint tang of static electricity. For a moment the little area in the sand dunes wavered as in a heat haze.
The duck quacked again.
Not-Mr-Thumpy wrinkled his nose. It was suddenly hard to concentrate.
'The duck says,' he wavered, 'the duck says . . . says . . . the duck . . . says . . . says . . . quack . . . ?'
The cat looked at the mouse.
'Miaow?' it said.
The mouse shrugged. 'Squeak,' it commented.
The rabbit wrinkled its nose uncertainly.
The duck squinted at the cat. The cat stared at the rabbit. The mouse peered at the duck.
The duck rocketed upwards. The rabbit became a fastdisappearing cloud of sand. The mouse tore over the dunes. And, feeling a lot happier than it had done for weeks, the cat ran after it.
Click . . .
Ginger and Victor sat at a table in the corner of the Mended Drum. Eventually Ginger said: 'They were good dogs.'
'Yes,' said Victor, distantly.
'Morry and Rock have been digging through the rubble for ages. They said there's all kind of cellars and things down there. I'm sorry.'
'Yes.'
'Maybe we ought to put up a statue to them, or something.'
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