Another memory crawled up from the pit of guilt. “Oh, good grief, did I really call him a long streak of-?”
“Yes,” said his wife. “Fred Colon came round this morning and told me all about it. And a very good description, I’d say. I went out with Ronnie Rust once. Bit of a cold fish.”
Another recollection burst like a ball of marsh gas inside Vimes’s head.
“Did Fred tell you where he said Rust could put his badge?”
“Yes. Three times. It seems to be weighing on his mind. Anyway, knowing Ronnie, he’d have to use a hammer.” - Jingo
Sybil stood in front
Patients Wearing Thin - Part 2 by stacieyates, literature
Patients Wearing Thin - Part 2
If you haven't already, you would probably make more sense of things if you read Part 1 first.
"If I’m going to be doing anything in the way of helping to deliver this baby, I need to have a look so I know how you’re progressing. The pains aren’t the only thing. I don’t work so great blind. You can certainly opt to have this baby unassisted if nothing goes wrong, or we can call a midwife... in most cases, things go fine and all you do is make sure you don’t drop the baby, maybe give them a welcome smack and clean things up a little. To be honest, I don’t know what most dwarfs do, but I don&rsqu
Patients Wearing Thin - Part 1 by stacieyates, literature
Patients Wearing Thin - Part 1
"Who do we have up next, Emma?"
"One Grapnel Skullcrusher. Claims it’s not an emergency, has a stomach complaint, I gather. Can’t get much else out of him," the plump, pink clinic receptionist replied, handing over a new manila patient folder with all of one sheet in it.
Young Sam took the folder, flipped it open, looked at it and scratched the bridge of his nose while crinkling it in thought. There was little on the paper beyond a name, address, age and a few other bare facts. Somehow, that expression and the faint freckles across it made him look younger than his nineteen years. Even with a broad build tending more toward the
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 t
Dr. Lawn painstakingly wiped down each tool with rubbing alcohol and a clean towel before quietly laying them back in the loops sewn into the piece of black felt. It had been one of the oddest births he had ever dealt with, no doubt about it. Certainly the best attended by the public, at any rate, he told himself, listening to the murmur of voices and shuffle of boots out in the hall. And downstairs. If it weren’t bad enough that you had to wade through half the City Watch, there were even a few senior wizards milling around down there, too. Still, it had come in handy. He hadn’t had to peel the father up off the carpet by himself
It was quite possibly the first time in his memory that he could recall Sybil being speechless. Actually speechless. At a complete loss for words, even if it was just for a second. She was a woman, though, who could accept a bunch of dead rats graciously. You didn't knock her off kilter for long. She blinked and recovered herself. "I'm sorry... you want to do what, exactly?"
There was some complicated gesturing and some soft "ook" noises. A couple of soulful dark eyes looked up earnestly from a soft innertube of a face that looked a size too big for the owner.
"Well... I suppose you can feel free to try. I can't guarantee anything will happ