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  • Not A Granny
    WOSSNAME -- SEPTEMBER 2008 -- PART 4 OF 5 (continued) ... oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ====Part 4 -- WEIRD ALICE CONTINUED, AND
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 28, 2008
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      WOSSNAME -- SEPTEMBER 2008 -- PART 4 OF 5 (continued)





      Cert had a plan as well, and still does. He's been allowed to visit,
      when he's not working all hours on the Undertaking or studying up at
      the University; did I mention that due to rapid promotion he's now a
      Doctor of Technomancy as well as a Bachelor of Fluencing? His plan
      is to join me in Lost Wages as soon as possible. He's going to open
      a wizarding practice there, since the town is booming again, and
      continue his UU graduate studies via Omniscope. Since Omniscopes are
      tricky devices at the best of times, this is no small project! The
      latest model Omniscope discharges its excess thaums into a carefully
      -- *very* carefully -- set-up basin of pure rainwater; the smallest
      misadjustment could result in Lost Wages being a smoking hole in the
      landscape, but luckily Cert has enlisted the aid of visiting BU
      cisterns analyst Neil Beardie-Bloke for refining his calculations.
      Hopefully that means all will work out well...


      Owing to our situation, I feel a song coming on. It's about Ankh
      water, unsurprisingly. The River Ankh, particularly in A-M, has had
      much written about its water, and I can assure you that all of it is
      true. That's because it's...


      Too dense to slice
      Not clear, not nice
      Crossbones and skull:
      "Not potable!"

      I want to drink it, but I better not touch (don't touch!)
      I want to smell it but my senses tell me I'd drop
      I want a taste but I like living too much (I clutch!)
      I want to chug it but it's Ankh-Morporkian
      It's poison running through our drains
      Pure poison, clogging up our water mains...

      My teeth feel hot
      Disease I've caught
      It shines, it's wet
      Makes strong men sweat

      I stumble, falling, full of needles and pins (ow! pins!)
      I think the neighbours must've heard me screaming in pain
      One toxic touch and it's dissolving my skin (seeps in!)
      I was so thirsty, now I'm blitzed by River Ankh poison
      It's poison running through our drains
      Pure poison, clogging up our water mains
      They're poisoned!

      Dead sheep, pigs' guts
      Slops from The Butts...

      I want to drink it, but I better not touch (don't touch!)
      I want to smell it but my senses tell me I'd drop
      I want a taste but I like living too much (I clutch!)
      I want to chug it but it's Ankh-Morporkian
      It's poison running through our drains
      Pure poison, clogging up our water mains...
      They're poisoned

      I'm drinking "water" even Beggars won't touch (won't touch!)
      I feel unholy and my insides wanna go plop
      Another sip will make me walk with a crutch (too much!)
      It isn't tasty but it sure is genuine
      Poison, eww!
      I can't bear these gastric pains
      I'm poisoned -- oh no!
      Now I'm leaking funny stains
      Filled with epidemic strains
      And poisoned...

      Here endeth this post.

      * * * *

      Second Clog: "I shall be released"

      Any day now, they tell us. Cert has kindly booked passage for me to
      Lost Wages with one of the best coaching companies. No leaky boats
      for me this time! Just a (hopefully) safe, comfortable coach
      journey, straight across the Rimwards side of the Sto Plains,
      through the Forest of Skund, a day's stopover in Lancre to pick up
      the post and whatnot and test the new vintage scumble at the Goat
      and Bush, and then home sweet home. I should be there in not much
      more than a week - barring breakdowns, highway robbers, rains of
      fish, early Yeti migrations, a wandering Undead eating the coach
      drive...but that's just the usual.


      Looking back on my adventures, I would say this Grand Sneer has
      definitely broadened my horizons and made me far more mature and
      experienced -- far more experienced at any rate. It's not many a
      person who can live a long, full, dramatic life, die in bed
      surrounded by fat grandchildren, and then get to live a long, full,
      dramatic life all over again (apart from certain History Monks and,
      I suppose, Yeti, though the History Monks wouldn't have fat
      grandchildren as such). This time around I'm going to go for the
      less full and dramatic parts, though. A pint or ten by the fire in
      The Sore Loser, a bit of a sing-song, some good old-fashioned
      Lancrastian and Borogravian cooking, the occasional late night
      watching the Omniscope to see that it doesn't implode...that will do
      me fine.


      Speaking of cooking, I've been in correspondence with Mr
      Hassenpfeffer, owner and chief chef of the Grossenschweinebitzen
      restaurant. While he won't sell me his secret recipe for Ghoulish,
      he *is* very interested in opening a branch of GSB in Lost Wages.


      There are rats in the walls. I hear them whispering at night.


      Mrs Palm paid me a visit the other day. She said all the girls are
      very sad to see me go, and they hope I can come back some day for a
      visit, a few parties and maybe some (very) discreet solo gigs -- on
      a borrowed lute, of course. She also gave me the latest Woo Hon Ling
      catalogue to take up to the Lost Wages branch of the Seamstresses'
      Guild, because it might spontaneously combust if sent by ordinary
      post. Being a woman of the world these days, I've had a look through
      it. Blimey, she's right! I think Semolina is going to be very
      interested in some of the *special* appliances...


      Now the rats are singing. They haven't great voices, but they know
      the words to some of my songs. How sweet.


      Listeria says she's going to continue her travels. She wants to go
      to the Brown Islands and the Land of Fog, and possibly even on to
      EcksEcksEcksEcks. I wouldn't have minded seeing some more of the
      Disc myself, but while I'm not saying I'll never travel again, I
      think I'll at least take a break for a few years. I'm already
      feeling a bit nostalgic, but much of what's happened feels far away
      and faded, like it happened to someone else a long time ago. I think
      I shall read over and edit my Clacks logs and write them up as a
      book, just in case I have grandchildren some day and find I've
      forgotten most of the stories I'd want to tell them.


      The rats delivered me a message last night! From my friends in
      Morpork Below. Seems my honorary status as a Belowgrounder is
      permanent, and I can come do concerts there any time I want. Well,
      that's one way around the banned band ban...


      LuRid left. No-one knows when or where, except the rats, and they're
      not saying. I think he went home.


      Anaglypta is going to close up the house in Silver Street and join
      her aunt on her further travels. Once again, I feel like some sort
      of fellowship is breaking up...


      Ooh, genuine Slumpie for supper last night! With salad! That's the
      palace kitchens' idea of acceptable local cuisine. Sham Harga would
      never dream of putting salad on his plates; the customers would


      We're being released tomorrow. Time to go home!

      -- Alice

      Note for Roundworlders: the original lyrics for Poison by Alice
      Cooper can be found at:




      by Fernando Magnifico

      Buongiorno! The Lady Asterisk is indisposed this month, for she was
      attacked by a rogue cheese.

      My friends, it breaks Fernando's heart to write this, but he has
      failed in his sacred duty to be your astrologer. When he came to the
      beautiful city of Ankh-Morpork to study the art of astrology at the
      feet of the bellissima Lady Asterisk, Fernando swore that he would
      carry the burden of being astrologer for all his readers who rely on
      him. But now Fernando's food is like ashes in his mouth, even his
      Uncle Enzo's famous salami, the one with the chilli and fennel
      seeds, and the cold wind blows through Fernando's small but stylish
      room. Even Fernando's red velvet cloak gives him no pleasure, for it
      is like sackcloth on Fernando's soft yet manly Brindisian skin.
      Fernando now knows well what it is like to have a heart heavy with
      shame, for he has failed: Fernando's astrological charts have
      disappeared, and without them even Fernando cannot calculate the

      It will take weeks to re-calculate the charts, for every
      astrologer's calculations are unique. So there can be no horoscope
      this month. Instead Fernando will take questions from his devoted

      "Dear Fernando,

      I am a Boring'un with an allergy to fish. Even walking past a market
      stall selling fish brings me out in hives. I'm thinking of accepting
      a job offer to be Assistant Clerk Fourth Grade (Sprout Specialist)
      at the Cabbage Grower's Cooperative, but Mother insists that a job
      with better prospects is First Mate on 'The Vindictive', which sails
      next week under Captain John 'Blackheart' Edwards. I'm worried
      because the previous First Mate was eaten by sharks in the Mothering
      Sunday Islands, but Mother tells me that sharks never attack unless
      provoked. What should I do?

      Signed, Cabbages Are The Life For Me"

      Fernando cannot cast a precise horoscope this month, but Fernando
      has much experience in the knowing of personalities of each sign and
      knows that Boring'uns are not well suited for any job on a ship
      called 'The Vindictive'. Except perhaps for the job of victim. I
      recommend you take the job at the Cabbage Grower's Cooperative.

      "Dear Mr Magnifico, Ai am a respectable hwidow hwoman of hadequate
      means and still with all my own teeth. Ai was hwondering, is there a
      Mrs Magnifico?

      Signed, Still Young At Heart, Unseen University"

      There is only one Signora Magnifico in Fernando's life, that is
      Fernando's sainted mamma, may the gods smile upon her.

      Fernando gets the many proposals for marriage from the Signorinas,
      and sometimes the young Signores also. Fernando is always flattered,
      but he has too much love in him for any one person. This does not
      mean that Fernando will never be married, but it will have to be to
      a very special person who understands that it is Fernando's mission
      to spread his love to everyone in the world, except perhaps the
      Quirmian footsballers, and Carlos, but Fernando does not wish to
      speak of Carlos.

      One of his missions. Fernando has many.

      "Dear Mr Magnifico,

      My sisters Incontinentia and Chlamydia and I read your horoscopes
      every month, and we especially love to hear about your exciting life
      back in Brindisi. Is it true that you once saved a young woman from
      being eaten by a whole family of bears?

      Signed, Prudencia Woolstocking (Miss)"

      A whole family of bears? Fernando does not know where these stories
      come from. It was only the one bear, twenty feet tall on his back
      legs, with claws like daggers and teeth like even bigger daggers,
      and the bear he had found the signorina Valentina who was picking
      berries in the forest. Fortunately, Fernando was riding through the
      forest and came across them. Fernando's horse was frightened and
      threw Fernando and ran away, but Fernando got up and looked the bear
      straight in the eyes. The bear stood up on his back legs, thirty
      feet tall if he was an inch, and roared, and Fernando threw himself
      at the bear to save the signorina from being eaten. By the bear.

      It was a terrible fight, for Fernando was unarmed except for a small
      stick he broke off a tree, but Fernando was victorious and the bear
      ran off into the forest and the signorina was saved. The cost was
      great though, for Fernando's favourite black silk shirt was ripped
      to shreds, and Fernando had to walk back to the village with his
      bare chest and back covered in terrible claw marks. From the bear
      you understand. Fernando's cousin Palomita had to go and have a lie
      down, and his Auntie Maria gave him a clip on the ear for riding
      bare-back and falling off the horse. She said that riding bare-back
      is dangerous, but Fernando laughs at danger.

      "Dear Mr Fernando,

      What is your favourite opera?

      Signed, Patron of the Arts."

      Fernando has a great passion for the Brindisi opera. There are many
      such great operas, and it is very hard to decide which is best, but
      Fernando believes that perhaps the greatest of all is "Programma
      Nove da Spazio Cosmico" by the famed composer Eduardo Foresta. Who
      cannot be moved to tears by such as this?

      E appena un salto il a sinistra
      Ed allora un punto alla destra
      Con le vostre mani sulle vostre anche
      Portate le vostra ginocchia fortemente
      Ma e la spinta pelvica che realmente lo guida insano
      Li lascia ripetere il filo di ordito di tempo!

      Fernando intends to make his new astrological charts, and next month
      the more usual horoscope should be back. Ciao bella!


      End of Part 4, continued on Part 5 of 5.
      If you did not get all five parts, write: interact@...
      Copyright (c) 2008 by Klatchian Foreign Legion
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