FIC: A Tern for the Wurst
Dennis wrote more fic. OMG my parents are lolarious.
Title: A Tern for the Wurst
Author: My stepdad
Rating: G
Characters: Rincewind, C.M.O.T. Dibbler
Disclaimer: Still Pterry's.
WARNING *** DANGER *** WARNING *** DANGER *** WARNING
IF YOU LIKE TERRY PRATCHETT'S DISCWORLD STORIES AND/OR DO NOT LIKE PUNS, YOU MUST NOW PULL YOUR EYELIDS DOWN AND PUT THEM IN YOUR MOUTH TO PREVENT YOURSELF FROM WITNESSING THE FOLLOWING HORROR. Or just skip this message.
WARNING *** DANGER *** WARNING *** DANGER *** WARNING
You've been warned.
A Tern for the Wurst
Rincewind had popped out of Unseen University for a bit of a snack, and naturally (or unnaturally, according to your culinary agenda) ended up purchasing a sausage in a bun from
Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler.
"Throat," mumbled Rincewind, around a mouthful of sausage, "this tastes like chicken. But it tastes like a different kind of chicken than usual. Changed recipes, did you?"
With a habitual furtive glance to either side, C.M.O.T. replied, "Being as you're one of my longest surviv-er, oldest and best customers, I reckon I can let you in on a little secret. Ain't no chicken in them."
Rincewind didn't even blink. "Why am I not surprised?"
"You see," continued Dibbler, "the chickens around here are hardly fit for eating, seeing as they get fed only what people decide to feed them, that being what the people themselves don't want. Not to mention the problem of most of them belonging to people who take exception to my using them, that exception being pointed out in no uncertain style by Captain Carrot."
Sensing an approaching cart-wreck, Rincewind slowed down to look for body parts. "So what do you use?"
"Usually I use seagulls. I trade dwarves rats for them. Plenty of them around, and they get to eat the best of whatever they can find. Rats on the wing, you might say. Much better diet than your average Ankh-Morporkian chicken. Only there weren't any around to be had yesterday. Musta been a fishing boat stuck in the Ankh's flow or sumthin'."
"And?"
"Well, I coulda used a Pointless Albatross, but that wouldn't have made any sense."
"Obviously."
"So I had the dwarves catch me one of them other birds down by the Brass Bridge. The ones that kind of look like seagulls built for racing? 'Course you can't hardly tell the difference once you get the feathers off."
"You don't mean to say . . ."
"'At's right," C.M.O.T. smirked conspiratorially. "I took a tern for the wurst."
Title: A Tern for the Wurst
Author: My stepdad
Rating: G
Characters: Rincewind, C.M.O.T. Dibbler
Disclaimer: Still Pterry's.
WARNING *** DANGER *** WARNING *** DANGER *** WARNING
IF YOU LIKE TERRY PRATCHETT'S DISCWORLD STORIES AND/OR DO NOT LIKE PUNS, YOU MUST NOW PULL YOUR EYELIDS DOWN AND PUT THEM IN YOUR MOUTH TO PREVENT YOURSELF FROM WITNESSING THE FOLLOWING HORROR. Or just skip this message.
WARNING *** DANGER *** WARNING *** DANGER *** WARNING
You've been warned.
A Tern for the Wurst
Rincewind had popped out of Unseen University for a bit of a snack, and naturally (or unnaturally, according to your culinary agenda) ended up purchasing a sausage in a bun from
Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler.
"Throat," mumbled Rincewind, around a mouthful of sausage, "this tastes like chicken. But it tastes like a different kind of chicken than usual. Changed recipes, did you?"
With a habitual furtive glance to either side, C.M.O.T. replied, "Being as you're one of my longest surviv-er, oldest and best customers, I reckon I can let you in on a little secret. Ain't no chicken in them."
Rincewind didn't even blink. "Why am I not surprised?"
"You see," continued Dibbler, "the chickens around here are hardly fit for eating, seeing as they get fed only what people decide to feed them, that being what the people themselves don't want. Not to mention the problem of most of them belonging to people who take exception to my using them, that exception being pointed out in no uncertain style by Captain Carrot."
Sensing an approaching cart-wreck, Rincewind slowed down to look for body parts. "So what do you use?"
"Usually I use seagulls. I trade dwarves rats for them. Plenty of them around, and they get to eat the best of whatever they can find. Rats on the wing, you might say. Much better diet than your average Ankh-Morporkian chicken. Only there weren't any around to be had yesterday. Musta been a fishing boat stuck in the Ankh's flow or sumthin'."
"And?"
"Well, I coulda used a Pointless Albatross, but that wouldn't have made any sense."
"Obviously."
"So I had the dwarves catch me one of them other birds down by the Brass Bridge. The ones that kind of look like seagulls built for racing? 'Course you can't hardly tell the difference once you get the feathers off."
"You don't mean to say . . ."
"'At's right," C.M.O.T. smirked conspiratorially. "I took a tern for the wurst."