"A very generous custom, I've always said," said the Senior Wrangler, feeling his neck crick.
"So why, every year, do we hang a damn great bunch of mistletoe up there?"
The Senior Wrangler turned in a circle, still staring upward.
"Well, er...it's...well, it's...it's symbolic, Archchancellor."
"Ah?"
The Senior Wrangler felt that something more was expected. He groped around in the dusty attics of his education.
"Of...the leaves, d'y'see...they're symbolic of...of green, d'y'see, whereas the berries, in fact, yes, the berries symbolize...symbolize white. Yes. White and green. Very...symbolic."
He waited. He was not, unfortunately, disappointed.
"What of?"
The Senior Wrangler coughed.
"I'm not sure there has has to to be be an an of of," he said.
"Ah? So," said the Archchancellor, thoughtfully, "it could be said that the white and green symbolize a small parasitic plant?"
"Yes, indeed," said the Senior Wrangler.
"So mistletoe, in fact, symbolizes mistletoe?"
"Exactly, Archchancellor," said the Senior Wrangler, who was now just hanging on.
"Funny thing, that," said Ridcully, in the same thoughtful tone of voice. "That statement is either so deep it would take a lifetime to fully comprehend every particle of its meaning, or it is a load of absolute tosh. Which is it, I wonder?"
"It could be both," said the Senior Wrangler desperately.
"And that that comment," said Ridcully, "is either very perceptive, or very trite." comment," said Ridcully, "is either very perceptive, or very trite."
"It might be bo-"
"Don't push it, Senior Wrangler."
There was a hammering on the outer door.
"Ah, that'll be the wassailers," said the Senior Wrangler, happy for the distraction. "They call on us first every year. I personally have always liked 'The Lilywhite Boys,' you know."
The Archchancellor glanced up at the mistletoe, gave the beaming man a sharp look, and opened the little hatch in the door.
"Well, now, wassailing you fellows-" he began. "Oh. Well, I must say you might've picked a better time..."
A hooded figure stepped through the wood of the door, carrying a limp bundle over its shoulder.
The Senior Wrangler stepped backward quickly.
"Oh...no, not tonight tonight..."
And then he noticed that what he had taken for a robe had lace around the bottom, and the hood, while quite definitely a hood, was nevertheless rather more stylish than the one he had first mistaken it for.
"Putting down or taking away?" said Ridcully.
Susan pushed back her hood.
"I need your help, Mr. Ridcully," she said.
"You're...aren't you Death's granddaughter?" said Ridcully. "Didn't I meet you a few-"
"Yes," sighed Susan.
"And...are you helping out?" said Ridcully. His waggling eyebrows indicated the slumbering figure over her shoulder.
"I need you to wake him up," said Susan.
"Some sort of miracle, you mean?" said the Senior Wrangler, who was a little behind.
"He's not dead," said Susan. "He's just resting."
"That's what they all say," the Senior Wrangler quavered.
Ridcully, who was somewhat more practical, lifted the oh god's head. There was a groan.
"Looks a bit under the weather," he said.
"He's the God of Hangovers," said Susan. "The Oh Oh God of Hangovers." God of Hangovers."
"Really?" said Ridcully. "Never had one of those myself. Funny thing, I can drink all night and feel as fresh as a daisy in the morning."
The oh god's eyes opened. Then he soared toward Ridcully and started beating him on the chest with both fists.
"You utter, utter bastard! I hate you hate you hate you hate you-"
His eyes shut, and he slid down to the floor.
"What was all that about?" said Ridcully.
"I think it was some kind of nervous reaction," said Susan diplomatically. "Something nasty's happening tonight. I'm hoping he can tell me what it is. But he's got to be able to think straight first."
"And you brought him here here?" said Ridcully.
HO. HO. HO. YES INDEED, HELLO, SMALL CHILD CALLED V VERRUCA L LUMPY, WHAT A LOVELY NAME, AGED SEVEN, I BELIEVE BELIEVE? GOOD. YES, I KNOW IT DID KNOW IT DID. ALL OVER THE NICE CLEAN FLOOR, YES. THEY DO, YOU KNOW. THAT'S ONE OF THE THINGS ABOUT REAL PIGS. HERE WE ARE, DON'T MENTION IT. HAPPY H HOGSWATCH AND BE GOOD. I WILL KNOW IF YOU'RE GOOD OR BAD, YOU KNOW WILL KNOW IF YOU'RE GOOD OR BAD, YOU KNOW. HO. HO. HO.
"Well, you brought some magic into that that little life," said Albert, as the next child was hurried away. little life," said Albert, as the next child was hurried away.
IT'S THE EXPRESSION ON THEIR LITTLE FACES I I LIKE LIKE, said the Hogfather.
"You mean sort of fear and awe and not knowing whether to laugh or cry or wet their pants?"
YES. NOW THAT THAT IS WHAT IS WHAT I I CALL BELIEF CALL BELIEF.
The oh god was carried into the Great Hall and laid out on a bench. The senior wizards gathered round, ready to help those less fortunate than themselves remain that way.
"I know what's good for a hangover," said the Dean, who was feeling in a party mood.
They looked at him expectantly.
"Drinking heavily the previous night!" he said.
He beamed at them.
"That was a good word joke," he said, to break the silence.
The silence came back.
"Most amusing," said Ridcully. He turned back and stared thoughtfully at the oh god.
"Raw eggs are said to be good-" he glared at the Dean "-I mean bad bad for a hangover," he said. "And fresh orange juice." for a hangover," he said. "And fresh orange juice."
"Klatchian coffee," said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, firmly.
"But this fellow hasn't just got his his hangover, he's got hangover, he's got everyone everyone's hangover," said Ridcully.
"I've tried it," mumbled the oh god. "It just makes me feel suicidal and and sick." sick."
"A mixture of mustard and horseradish?" said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. "In cream, for preference. With anchovies."
"Yogurt," said the Bursar.
Ridcully looked at him, surprised.
"That sounded almost relevant," he said. "Well done. I should leave it at that if I were you, Bursar. Hmm. Of course, my uncle always used to swear at Wow-Wow Sauce," he added.
"You mean swear by by, surely?" said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
"Possibly both," said Ridcully. "I know he once drank a whole bottle of it as a hangover cure and it certainly seemed to cure him. He looked very peaceful when they came to lay him out."
"Willow bark," said the Bursar.
"That's a good idea," said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. "It's an analgesic."
"Really? Well, possibly, though it's probably better to give it to him by mouth," said Ridcully. "I say, are you feeling yourself, Bursar? You seem somewhat coherent."
The oh god opened his crusted eyes.
"Will all that stuff help?" he mumbled.
"It'll probably kill you," said Susan.
"Oh. Good."
"We could add Englebert's Enhancer," said the Dean. "Remember when Modo put some on his peas? We could only manage one each!"
"Can't you do something more, well, magical?" said Susan. "Magic the alcohol out of him or something?"
"Yes, but it's not alcohol by this time, is it?" said Ridcully. "It'll have turned into a lot of nasty little poisons all dancin' round on his liver."
"Spold's Unstirring Divisor would do it," said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. "Very simply, too. You'd end up with a large beaker full of all the nastiness. Not difficult at all, if you don't mind the side effects."
"Tell me about the side effects," said Susan, who had met wizards before.
"The main one is that the rest of him would end up in a somewhat larger beaker," said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
"Alive?"
The Lecturer in Recent Runes screwed up his face and waggled his hands. "Broadly, yes," he said. "Living tissue, certainly. And definitely sober."
"I think we had in mind something that would leave him the same shape and still breathing," said Susan.
"Well, you might've said said..."
Then the Dean repeated the mantra that has had such a marked effect on the progress of knowledge throughout the ages.
"Why don't we just mix up absolutely everything and see what happens?" he said.
And Ridcully responded with the traditional response.
"It's got to be worth a try," he said.
The big glass beaker for the cure had been placed on a pedestal in the middle of the floor. The wizards liked to make a ceremony of everything in any case, but felt instinctively that if they were going to cure the biggest hangover in the world it needed to be done with style.
Susan and Bilious watched as the ingredients were added. Round about halfway the mixture, which was an orange-brown color, went gloop gloop.