Rincewind (rincewind) wrote in bearandbarnacle, @ 2008-12-10 20:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | event, rincewindpost, storm |
Rincewind: Event: Storm
Rincewind winced as another powerful gust of wind buffeted the pub. It had been raining for days, and from what he had heard from other patrons, it wasn’t going to let up any time soon. He was mooching around in the back rooms of the pub. It was far too wet to even think of going outside. He stayed away from the kitchen though, ever since a woman wielding a knife that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the shades had threatened him with it when he’d dared to step inside for a peek (and maybe a bit of a snack). There was harm in asking, of that Rincewind had no doubt. He was in the stores room, trying to figure out what Coke syrup was and why they needed so much of it when there was a loud thump from the back hall. Rincewind peered out, keeping his eyes closed just in case it was something dreadful. Nothing grabbed him, so he opened them to slits. Nothing there but the back door. Perhaps one of the large bins in the alley had been blown over. He was just about to go back into the stores room when he was startled by a knock at the door. He blinked. The knock was repeated, rather more forcefully. “I wonder who that could be in this weather?” he muttered. Surely all the deliveries had already been made? Rincewind crept to the door. “Who’s there?” he whispered, hardly loud enough to be heard over the noise of the storm. Three more knocks, sounding as if they might have been made at Death’s door made him jump back and gibber. He looked around, then sighed and opened the door. He was immediately drenched by blowing rain. What appeared to be an old bundle of clothes was on the other side. No, Rincewind thought to himself, bundles of clothes seldom wore shoes nor had bright eyes peering at you from under what could only be called a hat because it was on the opposite end from the shoes. “There is such a thing as a tesseract!” The bundle of clothes (or what was wearing them) told him.
“Is there?” Rincewind answered politely. “That’s nice I’m sure,” he added.
The eyes glared at him. “Not quite what I expected by way of reaction,” the voice sniffed.
“Well,” Rincewind told her (him? It?), “I never heard of a tesser thingy.
The eyes seemed to frown at this. “Isn’t this Connecticut?”
“I don’t think so,” Rincewind answered. “I’ve never heard of it either. This is Margate. England,” he added helpfully.
“Blast!” A hand shot out from the bundle and rummaged through pockets. “Bloody storm plays hell with navigation.” A piece of paper was drawn out, going soggy at once in the rain. “Right. You weren’t supposed to be until Saturday. Still, no real harm done.” She/he/it studied Rincewind, taking note of the hat, which still had the stick he had found poked through the brim. The bundle nodded and spoke. Rincewind paled. “Are you sure?!” He wailed.
“Sure as can be dearie. Try not to make too many mistakes. I’m off then. Thank goodness the Concorde’s don’t fly anymore.” With a cheerful wave, the bundle waddled off down the alley.
Rincewind took the white stick out of his hat and stared at it as if it might turn into a snake and bite him. “I’m a bloody fairy godmother,” He whined. “Well, sort of.” With a despairing sigh, Rincewind closed the door.