Rincewind the Wizzard (i_wizzard) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2008-12-17 03:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | alison cameron, rincewind |
Another in a long string of ridiculous events [Open to hospital folk and others!]
Rincewind shook his head and spit out a rather large clump of grass. Then he groaned.
“Where am I this time? Damn it all, doesn’t it ever end? All I wanted was to get a book out of my closet!”
He looked around cautiously, hoping nothing large and smelly was waiting to eat him. Seeing the coast was clear, he stumbled to his feet, cracking his back and neck to try and work out the kinks falling had wrought. So far, this land didn’t look too bad. It had sun, trees, grass, small furry animals. Definitely better than the Lost Continent, where that damn hopping thing followed him around and got him into trouble.
Feeling better already, Rincewind walked off the grass onto the paved street surface, then screamed at the sight of a gigantic, fire-breathing contraption of some sort barreling towards him. His solution was to run back onto the grass and never stop.
He kept going until he fell right into a lake. He coughed, sputtered, moaned “Spoke too soon”, and then spit out a mouthful of green water.
The driver of the car stepped out and scratched his head.
“You ok over there? Sheoot, you’d think the guy had never seen a car before.”
Rincewind looked at the man and blew water out of his nose. “Car? Is that what your infernal chariot is called? Well, you almost killed me, so I’d say my day is looking about average. Thank you for assuring me my momentary delusions of normalcy were unfounded. Life is back to normal.”
The man scratched his head again. “Are you sure you’re ok? Did you hit your head? Do you want a ride to City Hospital?”
Rincewind began to shake his head no, but the semi-reverence the man employed when he used the word “hospital” made Rincewind think it was a place like the Unseen University, where (supposedly) learned men pondered life’s questions and ate massive meals. Maybe he could get another honorary professorial position, maybe this time he could head the Department of Inhuman Services!
“I shall accept your offer to convey me to the hospital, with thanks.”
He fished his soggy hat out of the water and placed it firmly on his head. He turned it so the word “Wizzard” faced forward, ignored the water dripping down his hair and stumbled out of the pond towards the friendly but confused driver.
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