Saturday, December 5, 2009

Not for a king Upon whose property and most dear life A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across? Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie.

A pair of stout walking shoes and boarded the Kazanga- Metropole flyer. At last he came to Earth where dreams must come true for there is a law against their failure. He passed quickly through Customs at Spaceport New York and was shuttled underground to Times Square. There he emerged blinking into.
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It wasn't easy being the senior policeman in Ankh-Morpork greatest of cities of the Discworld [*]. There were probably worlds captain Vimes mused in his gloomier moments where there weren't wizards (who made locked room mysteries commonplace) or zombies (murder cases were really strange when the victim could be the chief witness) and where dogs could be relied on to do nothing in the night time and not go around chatting to people. Captain Vimes believed in logic in much the same way as a man in a desert believed in ice -- i. e. it was something he really needed but this just wasn't the world for it. Just once he thought it'd be nice to solve something. He looked at the blue-faced body on the slab and felt a tiny flicker of excitement. There were clues. He'd never seen proper.
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