Discworld Music Meme 7

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Literature Text

National Anthem (of Paranoia) by Eric Idle

Vimes gave the ambassador a hard look. “We might be, what did you say? Rude and crude and uneducated, but at least we don't pretend that dressing like a ponce and having money makes us better. By the way, I'm the Special Envoy. From Ankh-Morpork.”

My Stupid Mouth by John Mayer

“That's not what I meant,” Sam said hastily.

“Then what did you mean?” Young Sam asked innocently, peering up through mussed brown hair.

“I didn't mean I didn't want to go with your mother, exactly. I just meant... there are better ways for a man to spend an evening with his wife than going to the opera and a fancy restaurant,” he fumbled. “But that's what your mother wants for her birthday... so...”

“Better ways like what?” Young Sam pressed.

Neveryoumind... isn't it your bedtime?” His ears were going red.

Nocturne, E Flat Major

Sam stood in the doorway of the nursery, listening to the creak of the old oak rocking chair and leaning against the door frame. The quiet tinkling of the little music box on the bureau rattled off a tinny accompaniment to the snuffling and flailing bundle wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, resting in the crook of Sybil's arm.

“Still no luck?” he all but whispered.

“He's just about given it up,” Sybil answered. “He's definitely fighting going back to sleep tonight.”

“This morning, you mean,” Sam said, looking at the clock.

One Of A Kind Knight by Shrek soundtrack

“You left this,” Sybil deadpanned, holding out the velvet cape. “Hanging on a tree.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Sam replied, taking it. He at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“Any particular reason you had to leave to personally run down a fellow
named Vinnie the Clamp in the middle of the soup course?”

Shake Your Tailfeather by Ray Charles

He's surprisingly... good...” Vimes admitted grudgingly, casting a suspicious glance around the shadowy club. It wasn't too rowdy yet. They were still enjoying the strictly musical entertainment.

“Oh, Andre's a very accomplished pianist. All sorts of styles,” Carrot said brightly. “He says he rather likes stretching his fingers on something a little more... boogy-woogie now and again.”

Honestly, the lad is incapable of whispering. “And... why exactly... do you have him stationed undercover at the Pink Pussycat Club on Ladies Night?”

Reports of a... er... potential masher last month, sir, if you catch my drift. Manager thinks he might be scoping out the room on those nights. When there are actually ladies in the audience. The dancers already get escorts home.”  

The Story Is Wrong by Weezer

The sweaty young man under the lights licked his lips nervously, squinting in the glare.

The watchman standing across the table had been listening to his story with an air of faint but weary amusement, best he could tell, but suddenly, the smile  changed. It shifted, and it was the smile of someone not at all pleased. It was the smile of someone baring his teeth like he was going for the jugular with them. He uncrossed his arms and rested his knuckles on the table, leaning across it until his face and that not-funny-at-all smile was far too close for comfort. The young man jerked back so fast that his head hit the wall.

“Well, son, I'll give you points for creativity... but no points whatsoever for telling the truth. Because... you see, that is my silver cigar case, not your grandfather's, and I can tell it on account of it having my name in it. And my wife's. There's not a pawn shop in the city that would have touched you with a ten foot pole. And if you so much as left a fingerprint on it, much less a dent, it will go extremely hard with you,” Vimes snarled.

He started as he recognized the man, now that he was in his armor. It was just his luck to have picked the Commander's pocket.

Subtle Oddities (Cheesy Synth Mix) by Lemon Demon

Sam Vimes pinched the bridge of his nose. “Son... could you maybe put the wind-up thing that plays the calliope tune over and over again down and play with something a little more... quiet? I've read the paragraph of this report five times and not gotten any sense out of it, and that's a record, even for something Fred's written.”

“But I like the carousel,” Young Sam protested from the middle of the floor.

“Yes, but it's slowly driving your dad insane. That's not your job. Other people generally do that.”

Broadway by Allison Krauss and Union Station

There was nothing in the street now but dark and quiet broken only by the night breeze and the scuffing of leather boots on the cobbles, the way he liked it. Even without the thin soles he could tell the sound of the cobbles from Pseudopolis Yard up to Scoone Avenue with his eyes shut. He was tired and achy, the tension of a too-long night of Being Responsible still in his shoulders, but he made his legs go at the brisk pace of a man with somewhere important to go. Soon enough, he was headed up the gravel drive, cursing softly but only half-heartedly when his boot clipped some abandoned and forgotten toy from this afternoon, then was turning the key in the lock, heading up the stairs, pausing only to look in on his sleeping son before heading for the comfort of bed and his wife.

Exquisite Dead Guy by They Might Be Giants

The grayish-green corpse twisted slowly in the breeze as the young Constable  choked back his gagging.

“Reg...” Vimes said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, “would you tell your fellow zombie officers to kindly stop razzing the new guys? And Coddleton, you get down from there right this instant! That's a waste of good ketchup!”

I Wish You Would by Train

Vimes raised a hand, hesitated, finally pressed a finger to the bell. There was the seemingly interminable wait for the butler, being ushered into one of the endless drawing rooms, a million chances to change his mind and bolt before getting the words out.

“Er... purely speculatively, mind... if I were to agree, and I'm not saying I am, just yet... where would this room of mine be? There are dozens of the bloody things, and I'll probably need a gods-damned map just to find the bath and... Are you crazy, asking me to move in? Okay, I am agreeing.”

Glorious Day by Weezer

Sam sank back in the warm water and closed his eyes. The air was brisk but not unpleasant, the sun warm enough to take all the bite out of it, and it was currently a bright, red glow through his eyelids. There was a feeling of rightness with the world that there hadn't been in some time. The waters of the hot springs steamed
around him.

“There's painting the nursery, for one thing,” Sybil said.

“Mmm,” Sam assented. He couldn't keep the involuntary smile from jerking at the corner of his mouth, though.

11 songs, 11 miniature ficlets featuring Sam Vimes and Sybil, primarily.

These originally appeared on my LiveJournal May 15, 2011. They're all over the place on the timeline and some were an odd mix of creepy and humorous.
© 2011 - 2021 stacieyates
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