"Reaper Man" exerpt.
Random "Why I love Terry Pratchett So Much and Why I Would Sacrifice Any Amount of Small Animals to Reach his Genius" post.
'Hallo, skelington.'
[Death] swivelled round.
The small child of the house was watching him with the most penetrating gaze he had ever seen.
'You are a skelington, aren't you,' she said. 'I can tell, because of the bones.'
YOU ARE MISTAKEN, SMALL CHILD.
'You are. People turn into skelingtons when they're dead. They're not supposed to walk around afterwards.'
HA. HA. HA. WILL YOU HARK AT THE CHILD.
'Why are you walking around, then?'
Bill Door [a.k.a Death incognito] looked at the old men. They appeared engrossed in the sport.
I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, he said desperately, IF YOU WILL GO AWAY, I WILL GIVE YOU A HALF-PENNY.
'I've got a skelington mask for when we go trickle-treating on Soul Cake Night,' she said. 'It's made of paper. You get given sweets.'
Bill Door made the mistake millions of people had tried before with small children in slightly similar circumstances. He resorted to reason.
LOOK, he said, IF I WAS REALLY A SKELETON, LITTLE GIRL, I'M SURE THESE OLD GENTLEMEN HERE WOULD HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT IT.
She regarded the old men at the other end of the bench.
'They're nearly skelingtons anyway,' she said. 'I shouldn't think they'd want to see another one.'
He gave in.
I HAVE TO ADMIT THAT YOU ARE RIGHT ON THAT POINT.
'Why don't you fall to bits?'
I DON'T KNOW. I NEVER HAVE.
'I've seen skelingtons of birds and things and they all fall to bits.'
PERHAPS IT IS BECAUSE THEY ARE WHAT SOMETHING WAS, WHEREAS THIS IS WHAT I AM.
'The apothecary who does medicine over in Chambly's got a skelington on a hook with all wire to hold the bones together,' said the child, with the air of one imparting information gained after diligent research.
I DON'T HAVE WIRES.
'There's a difference between alive skelingtons and dead ones?'
YES.
'It's a dead skelington he's got then, is it?'
YES.
'What was inside someone?'
YES.
'Ur. Yuk.'
The child stared distantly at the landscape for a while and then said, 'I've got new socks.'
YES?
'You can look, if you like.'
A grubby foot was extended for inspection.
WELL, WELL. FANCY THAT. NEW SOCKS.
'My mum knitted them out of sheep.'
MY WORD.
The horizon was given another inspection.
'D'you know,' she said, 'd'you know...it's Friday.'
YES.
'I found a spoon.'
Bill Door found he was waiting expectantly. He was not familiar with people who had an attention span of less than three seconds.
- - - - - -
This mix of nervousness and excitation that pops up every time the DisneyStore is concerned is starting to grate on my nerves. Yesterday morning I was so goddamn nervous before going to work that I should have called mom. I would prefer not to feel so stupidely nervous every time, thankyouverymuch. I guess it's just because I don't know what tomorrow's team will be yet. That must be it.
And now to bed.
'Hallo, skelington.'
[Death] swivelled round.
The small child of the house was watching him with the most penetrating gaze he had ever seen.
'You are a skelington, aren't you,' she said. 'I can tell, because of the bones.'
YOU ARE MISTAKEN, SMALL CHILD.
'You are. People turn into skelingtons when they're dead. They're not supposed to walk around afterwards.'
HA. HA. HA. WILL YOU HARK AT THE CHILD.
'Why are you walking around, then?'
Bill Door [a.k.a Death incognito] looked at the old men. They appeared engrossed in the sport.
I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, he said desperately, IF YOU WILL GO AWAY, I WILL GIVE YOU A HALF-PENNY.
'I've got a skelington mask for when we go trickle-treating on Soul Cake Night,' she said. 'It's made of paper. You get given sweets.'
Bill Door made the mistake millions of people had tried before with small children in slightly similar circumstances. He resorted to reason.
LOOK, he said, IF I WAS REALLY A SKELETON, LITTLE GIRL, I'M SURE THESE OLD GENTLEMEN HERE WOULD HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT IT.
She regarded the old men at the other end of the bench.
'They're nearly skelingtons anyway,' she said. 'I shouldn't think they'd want to see another one.'
He gave in.
I HAVE TO ADMIT THAT YOU ARE RIGHT ON THAT POINT.
'Why don't you fall to bits?'
I DON'T KNOW. I NEVER HAVE.
'I've seen skelingtons of birds and things and they all fall to bits.'
PERHAPS IT IS BECAUSE THEY ARE WHAT SOMETHING WAS, WHEREAS THIS IS WHAT I AM.
'The apothecary who does medicine over in Chambly's got a skelington on a hook with all wire to hold the bones together,' said the child, with the air of one imparting information gained after diligent research.
I DON'T HAVE WIRES.
'There's a difference between alive skelingtons and dead ones?'
YES.
'It's a dead skelington he's got then, is it?'
YES.
'What was inside someone?'
YES.
'Ur. Yuk.'
The child stared distantly at the landscape for a while and then said, 'I've got new socks.'
YES?
'You can look, if you like.'
A grubby foot was extended for inspection.
WELL, WELL. FANCY THAT. NEW SOCKS.
'My mum knitted them out of sheep.'
MY WORD.
The horizon was given another inspection.
'D'you know,' she said, 'd'you know...it's Friday.'
YES.
'I found a spoon.'
Bill Door found he was waiting expectantly. He was not familiar with people who had an attention span of less than three seconds.
- - - - - -
This mix of nervousness and excitation that pops up every time the DisneyStore is concerned is starting to grate on my nerves. Yesterday morning I was so goddamn nervous before going to work that I should have called mom. I would prefer not to feel so stupidely nervous every time, thankyouverymuch. I guess it's just because I don't know what tomorrow's team will be yet. That must be it.
And now to bed.