Discworld and Member Articles
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Written by TheJackal
Wednesday, 24 August 2005 |
Around forty miles away, a figure sat alone in a dark, dark room. In fact, it was fair to say that this particular room gave new meaning to the word ‘darkness’. However, if the room had contained light, you would have seen a room that was by all accounts, extremely neat. The room’s occupant also sat neatly in a large, antique-looking armchair, of black colouration of course. You could have been forgiven for thinking that he was actually dead...but he wasn’t. The big smile on his face gave it away. He was obviously very pleased. Perhaps something had gone to plan...
Back down in the valley, the wind was getting even stronger. Rain didn’t simply pour down, it bucketed by the…er, bucketful. The rain cloud in question was getting rather annoyed because both of the men that it was picking on didn’t even seem to be noticing it. Therefore, the cloud was now asserting all of its efforts on making the two individuals in question exceptionally wet. A gale that was sweeping through the surroundings also had a go at Gee and Ron, but was distracted by a squirrel creeping dangerously near the end of a tree branch. It was an opportunity not to be missed.
Meanwhile, Ron and Gee were still enveloped in argument.
‘But we can’t do it alone, Gee,’ protested Ron. ‘It’s against the Rules.’
‘I know it’s against the Rules, lad. I have been doing this job for a long time you know. But we’ve still got to do it. “Mediators must never abandon a given task.” That’s also one of them Rules, lad,’ replied Gee.
‘But…but…’
‘I hear you lad, but alls we can do now is proceed with the task at hand. It should be okay, so long as we can agree on who lives and who doesn’t.’
‘I vote for the child,’ said Ron.
‘Damn.’
‘Why damn?’
‘I chose the mother.’
‘So what are we going to do?’ asked Ron, who was getting increasingly worried all the time.
‘Paper, Rock, Scissors?’
After nearly another half an hour, Gee and Ron still couldn’t come to an agreement.
‘Look,’ said Gee. ‘You can’t possibly think it’s a good idea to vote for the child. He won’t have a mother.’
‘He’ll have a father, won’t he?’
‘Yes, but that’s not enough. Mothers are very important. I remember my mum…’
Gee’s thoughts drifted off into nostalgia about his youth. There was perhaps, just for a fleeting moment, a little tear in his eye.
‘Gee? said Ron, waving his hands in front of his fellow Mediator.
‘What? Oh, sorry. I was miles away.’
‘We’ve got to do something. I mean, it’s not going to go away by itself.’
Oh Gods, how Gee wished it would all just go away. Stress like this could not be good for his heart.
‘I know, I know,’ said Gee. ‘But we can’t agree, can we?
He gave it a few moments more thought and said, ‘sod this. I’m off to the pub.’
‘But…’ protested Ron hopelessly.
‘Don’t give me any buts,’ said Gee. ‘And don’t mention any of those bloody Rules either ‘cause there’s nothing in them about not getting drunk beforehand.’
‘There’s nothing in the Rules about any of this,’ replied Ron.
‘Technicality.’
Twelve pints of ale and a bowl of peanuts later, Gee slowly pulled himself back off the tavern floor.
‘You know wha’?’
‘What?’ asked Ron drunkenly, though slightly the more sober of the two.
‘You’re my best friend,’ replied Gee.
‘But we only met a few hours ago,’ Ron exclaimed.
‘Yeh, yeh. Still…’ replied Gee, who obviously didn’t think that only knowing someone for half a day was a solid enough argument for why Ron shouldn’t, in fact, be his best friend.
Aside from Gee’s drunken gibbering, something else had been bugging Ron for a few minutes. He had a feeling they had forgotten something.
‘Em…Gee? Weren’t we supposed to do something?’ asked Ron.
‘Were we? Can’t remember meself.’
‘Yeh, I’m sure there was. Can’t put my finger on it though,’ said Ron, who wore a puzzled expression on his face.
‘Were we ’sposed to have another pint, by any chance?’ enquired both Gee and his one-track mind, hopefully.
‘Maybe. No. ’Twas something else. Here, did we have a Job to do? Not like a job, but a Job job?’ quizzed Ron.
‘Lemme see now,’ replied Gee, looking as thoughtful as a man could be when his body was on the wrong side of twelve pints. ‘You know, now I comes to think o’ it, you may be right, me lad. But what Job, that’s the pickle.’
‘Wait…I’m remembering something,’ said Ron. ‘Yes. There was some problem, remember? Something odd happened.’
Ron’s train of thought was momentarily disturbed by the sound of Gee falling off his bar stool...again.
‘I know I know,’ said Ron to the world in general but mostly to himself.
Ron could feel it on the tip of his tongue. In fact, it was doing a merry dance. Finally, after much effort and brain racking, realisation dawned.
‘Oh bugger.’
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