Jack Vettriano The Mad Hairdresser study

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Librarian was squatting down on the floor in a long, high cellar. Miscellaneous items had been scattered on the floor in front of him; there was a cartwheel, odd bits of wood and bone, and various pipes, rods and lengths of wire that somehow suggested that, around the city, people were puzzling over broken pumps and fences with holes in. The Librarian was a thumb in the direction of the door. 'I'd make them say sorry, if I was you.'
There was a creaking, metallic noise, followed very closely by a scuffling outside as the wizards trampled one another in their effort to get away.
The Librarian had bent the pipe into a U‑shape, apparently without effort.
Glod went to the door and looked out. There was a pointy hat on the flagstones, trampled flat.
'That was fun,' he said. 'If I'd just asked them where the Librarian was, they'd chewing the end of a piece of pipe and looking intently at the heap.'That's him,' said one of the wizards, giving Glod a push.The dwarf shuffled forward. There was another outburst of muffled giggling behind him.He tapped the Librarian on the shoulder.'Excuse me–’'Ook?''Those guys just called you a monkey,' said Glod, jerking

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looked down at Glod.
'Just three of you?' he said.
'Yes.'
'When I agreed to . He stared at it as Lias patiently stacked up his stones.
'Oh, just a bit of fruit and old eggs,' said Glod. 'People probably get a bit boisterous. I shouldn't worry about that.'
'I'm not worried about it,' said Imp.
'I should think not.'
'It's the axe marks and arrow holles I'm worried about. Gllod, we haven't even practised! Not properlly!'
'You can play your guitar, can't you?'
'Wellll, yes, I suppose . . .'five dollars, you said you had a big band.''Say hello, Lias.''My word, that is a big band.' Dunelm backed away. 'I thought,' he said, 'just a few numbers that everyone knows? Just to provide some ambience.''Ambience,' said Imp, looking around the Drum. He was familiar with the word. But, in a place like this, it was all lost and alone. There were only three or four customers in at this early hour of the evening. They weren't paying any attention to the stage.The wall behind the stage had clearly seen action

Mark Rothko Violet Green and Red 1951

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Angua froze. Carrot's face took on the usual vaguely puzzled look of someone whose ears have just heard what their brain is programmed to believe doesn't exist. He began to blush.
'Gaspode!' snapped Angua, dropping into Canine.
'I know what I'm doin'. A Man, a Woman. It is Fate,' said Gaspode.
Angua stood up. Carrot shot up too, so fast that his chair fell over.
'I must be going,' she said.
'Um. Don't The door slammed. Angua leaned on it.
It'll end up just like it did in Pseudopolis and Quirm and—
Angua?' said Carrot.
She turned.go—''Now you just reach out,' said Gaspode.It'd never work, Angua told herself. It never does. Werewolves have to hang around with other werewolves, they're the only ones who understand . . .But . . .On the other hand . . . since she 'd have to run anyway . . .She held up a finger.'Just one moment,' she said brightly and, in one movement, reached under the bed and pulled out Gaspode by the scruff of his neck.'You need me!' the dog whimpered, as he was carried to the door. 'I mean, what does he know? His idea of a good time is showing you the Colossus of Morpork! Put me—'

Salvador Dali The Cellist Ricardo Pichot

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making shadow pictures, Detritus.'
'Oook.'
'What him say?'-
'He said "Do Deformed Rabbit, it's my favourite",' Carrot translated.
Rats rustled in the darkness. Cuddy peered around. He kept imagining figures, back there, sighting along some kind of pipe . . .. 'Carrying a human's corpse through the streets right now would not be a good idea, I thought. Especially this one.'
'I thought some of that, too,' Detritus volunteered.
'Right enough,' said Carrot. 'Well done, men. I think we'd better . . . leave it for now, and come back with a sack later on. And . . . don't tell anyone else.'There were a disturbing few moments when he lost sight of the tracks on the wet stone, but he picked them up again near a mould-hung wall. And then, there was the particular pipe. He'd made a scratch on the stones.'It's not far along,' he said, handing Carrot the torch.Carrot disappeared.They heard his footsteps in the mud, and then a whistle of surprise, and then silence for a while.Carrot reappeared.'My word,' he said. 'You two know who this is?''It looks like—' Cuddy began.'It looks like trouble,' said Carrot.'You see why we didn't bring it back up?' said Cuddy

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you've seen a lot of corpses, right, when you've been ministering to the fallen—'
Corporal Nobbs nodded. They both knew that 'ministering' meant harvesting any personal jewellery and stealing their boots. In many a faraway battlefield the last thing many a mortally wounded foeman ever saw was Corporal Nobbs heading towards him with a sack, a knife and a calculating expression.
'Shame to let good stuff go to waste,' said Nobby.
'So you've noticed how dead bodies get. . . deader,' said Sergeant Colon.
'Deader than dead?'
'You know. More corpsey,' said Sergeant Colon, forensic expert.
'Goin' stiff and They strolled onwards.
'Bit of a poser, that is,' said Nobby.
'You're right. I expect the captain'll be very interested.'
'Maybe he was a zombie?'purple and suchlike?''Right.''And then sort of manky and runny . . .''Yes, all right—''Makes it easier to get the rings off, mind you—''The point is, Nobby, that you can tell how old a corpse is. That clown, for e.g. You saw him, same as me. How long, would you say?''About 5' 9", I'd say. His boots didn't fit, I know that. Too floppy.''I meant how long he'd been dead.''Couple of days. You can tell because there's this—''So how come Boffo saw him yesterday morning?'

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can't see it myself.'
'I think I can. And you like the city, sir.'
'Well, yes. But if it was a choice between banishment and having my head chopped off, just help me down with this suitcase. No, we're well rid of kings. But, I mean . . . the city used to work.'
'Still does,' said Carrot.
They passed the Assassins' Guild and drew level with the high, forbidding walls of the Fools' Guild, which occupied the other corner of the block.
'No, it just keeps'The Post Office,' corrected Vimes. 'My granddad said that once you could post a letter there and if d be delivered within a month, without fail. You didn't have to give it to a passing dwarf and hope the little bugger wouldn't eat it before . . .'
His voice trailed off. going. I mean, look up there.'Carrot obediently raised his gaze.There was a familiar building on the junction of Broad Way and Alchemists. The façade was ornate, but covered in grime. Gargoyles had colonized it.The corroded motto over the portico said 'NEITHER RAIN NOR SNOW NOR GLOM OF NIT CAN STAY THESE MESENGERS ABOT THIER DUTY' and in more spacious days that may have been the case, but recently someone had found it necessary to nail up an addendum which read:DONT ARSK US ABOUT: rocks troll's with sticks All sorts of dragons Mrs Cake Huje green things with teeth Any kinds of black dogs with orange eyebrows Rains of spaniel's. fog.Mrs Cake>'Oh,' he said. 'The Royal Mail.'

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You’ll have to come in to keep it calm, then,” he said. “I’ve never shod a stallion like this’n without two men and a boy a-hanging on to it.”
“It’ll do what it’sslung over his shoulder.
“They told me the unicorn had turned up again!”
Another board splintered.
“In there?”
Nanny nodded.
“She dragged it all the way down from the woods,” she said. told,” Granny promised. “It can’t cross me.”“It murdered old Scrope,” said Nanny Ogg. “I wouldn’t mind him killing it.”“Then shame on you, woman,” said Granny “It’s an ani-mal. Animals can’t murder. Only us superior races can mur-der. That’s one of the things that sets us apart from animals. Give me that sack.”She towed the fighting animal through the big double doors and a couple of the villagers hurriedly swung them shut. A moment later a hoof kicked a hole in the planking.Ridcully arrived at a run, his huge crossbow