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There was, logically, moments that tied Moist's smooth departure from Summerfell to his less than smooth, panting, fumbling entrance into his own house, twenty feet ahead of the dogs and sweaty from a sprint. Logically, those moments existed, but perhaps they belong to someone else. Someone that routinely went running in parkas, hiking boots and ( Read more... ) -
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from here
Eventually, they make it to the hut, Moist still half carrying, half dragging and half kissing Duo through the doorway. There's barely enough doorway to contain the extent of it. The Average Canine Family, which had gotten used to their seat of power in the center of the bed, sluggishly evacuated the bed with Moist's loud, sharp whistle ( Read more... ) -
[for Duo]
In front of the hut, Moist von Lipwig was talking to an elephant that was about four feet tall ( Read more... ) -
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"Nice ( Read more... ) -
[for Duo] I remember the Wolves in the timber
Of course it was night, Moist thought reflectively. It always happened at night. His granddad had had a theory about that; something about how there was a part of all dogs that remembered being wolves and the wolves had a special relationship with the moon. Tonight, the moon was full. It was Hogswatch Eve and there was snow on the ground. ( Read more... ) -
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It's not a nice thing to be doing, really. Moist knows this. In fact, he's rather completly aware of the fact. But you never know the tiger's sleeping until you poke it with a stick, right? Moist was just making sure he was still alive ( Read more... ) -
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Moist was roaming around the kitchen speculatively, dragging jars of various toast condiments out of the pantry as he waited for the bread to jettison out of the toaster. With the fridge open, he gazed briefly at the jug of hard cider, suddenly and desperately wanting a glassful. Or several. That it was before noon was hardly consequential - ( Read more... ) -
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It's a Saturday.
Surely, by this point, that should mean something to Moist*. And while the weekends were usually met with some trepidation, life had been so unexpectedly wonderful lately that, well. He just didn't see it coming. He really should have known.
In the corner of the room, Arnold was flopped all over Annagorvia. There was a small, ( Read more... ) -
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Somewhere between the 28th time The Lady trumped him in strip poker and the twentieth wallet he stole on the streets of Ankh-Morpork, Moist realized that he was not, in fact, having fun. After becoming fifty dollars richer, having a brief, normal* cup of tea with Stanley and Grout, and studiously avoiding the looming structure of the University ( Read more... ) -
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On capital punishment
They say that the prospect of being hanged in the morning concentrates a man's mind wonderfully; unfortunately, what the mind inevitably concentrates on is that it is in a body that, in the morning, is going to be hanged.
On heroics
Steal five dollars and you were a petty thief. Steal thousands of dollars and you were either a ( Read more... )