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Teatime

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Drabble the 1st: Tea

Magrat hated being late. She landed abruptly and hastily shoved her broom between the other two already leaning against the cottage wall and the white horse standing by the door.

She dashed in and promptly choked on an apology.

"Late again," remarked Granny Weatherwax disapprovingly.

Magrat got her voice back.

"What is He doing here?" she croaked.

"Death comes to us all," said Nanny Ogg philosophically, peering into her empty cup.

"Yes, but not for tea!!" hissed Magrat desperately.

The tall figure in black gave an embarassed cough.

"ACTUALLY, IT’S MORE FOR THE SCUMBLE. AND THE SCINTILLATING COMPANY, OF COURSE."

Drabble the 2nd: The Scumble Effect

 

Magrat pinched herself again. No doubt she’d be black and blue tomorrow, but she still hadn’t managed to wake from what had to be a bad dream.

Death had tried to teach them a game named something like dam, or weir, but after the third glass of scumble he’d graciously agreed that Cripple Mr. Onion was perhaps a better choice after all.

Greebo had mysteriously disappeared somewhere – probably into the pantry - together with the big black raven and that horrible little skeletal rat.

Currently, Nanny Ogg and Death were into the twentieth stanza of the hedgehog song.

Magrat whimpered.

Drabble the 3rd: Career Choice

"I REALLY HAVE TO GO NOW," said Death regretfully. "THERE’S THAT PLAGUE IN KLATCH…"

"SQUEAK!"

Greebo slunk out from under the table, the Death of Rats straddling his neck, skeletal paws firmly clutching the fur. A somewhat ruffled-looking raven trailed behind.

"A TEST DRIVE?" Death looked at Greebo. "NICE KITTY. WELL, I WOULDN'T DREAM INTERFERING IN YOUR RECRUITMENT POLICY."

He turned to the door.

"A PLEASURE, MY LADIES." The door swung shut.

"That cat is the most rampant careerist, Gytha," remarked Granny drily.

"Yes," said Nanny happily, " isn’t it a joy to know he can take care of himself?"