"I think the tradition got started when everyone had them big chimneys, master." This This voice sounded as though it was coming from someone standing on the roof and shouting down the pipe. voice sounded as though it was coming from someone standing on the roof and shouting down the pipe.
INDEED? IT'S ONLY A MERCY IT'S UNLIT.
There was some muffled scratching and banging, and then a thump from within the potbelly of the stove.
DAMN.
"What's up, master?"
THE DOOR HAS NO HANDLE ON THE INSIDE. I CALL THAT INCONSIDERATE CALL THAT INCONSIDERATE.
There were some more bumps, and then a scrape as the stove lid was lifted up and pushed sideways. An arm came out and felt around the front of the stove until it found the handle.
It played with it for a while, but it was obvious that the hand did not belong to a person used to opening things.
In short, Death came out of the stove. Exactly how would be difficult to describe without folding the page. Time and space were, from Death's point of view, merely things that he'd heard described. When it came to Death, they ticked the box marked Not Applicable. It might help to think of the universe as a rubber sheet, or perhaps not.
"Let us in, master," a pitiful voice echoed down from the roof. "It's brass monkeys out here."
Death went over to the door. Snow was blowing underneath it. He peered nervously at the woodwork. There was a thump outside and Albert's voice sounded a lot closer.
"What's up, master?"
Death stuck his head through the wood of the door.
THERE'S THESE METAL THINGS- "Bolts, master. You slide them," said Albert, sticking his hands under his armpits to keep them warm.
AH.
Death's head disappeared. Albert stamped his feet and watched his breath cloud in the air while he listened to the pathetic scrabbling on the other side of the door.
Death's head appeared again.
ER...
"It's the latch, master," said Albert wearily.
RIGHT. RIGHT.
"You put your thumb on it and push it down."
RIGHT.
The head disappeared. Albert jumped up and down a bit, and waited.
The head appeared.
ER...I WAS WITH YOU UP TO THE THUMB WAS WITH YOU UP TO THE THUMB...
Albert sighed. "And then you press down and pull, master."
AH. RIGHT. GOT YOU.
The head disappeared.
Oh dear, thought Albert. He just can't get the hang of them, can he...?
The door jerked open. Death stood behind it, beaming proudly, as Albert staggered in, snow blowing in with him.
"Blimey, it's getting really parky," said Albert. "Any sherry?" he added hopefully.
IT APPEARS NOT.
Death looked at the sock hooked onto the side of the stove. It had a hole in it.
A letter, in erratic handwriting, was attached to it. Death picked it up.
THE BOY WANTS A PAIR OF TROUSERS THAT HE DOESN'T HAVE TO SHARE, A HUGE MEAT PIE, A SUGAR MOUSE, "A LOT OF TOYS" AND A PUPPY CALLED S SCRUFF.
"Ah, sweet," said Albert. "I shall wipe away a tear, 'cos what he's gettin gettin', see, is this little wooden toy and an apple." He held them out.
BUT THE LETTER CLEARLY- "Yes, well, it's socio-economic factors again, right?" said Albert. "The world'd be in a right mess if everyone got what they asked for, eh?"
I GAVE THEM WHAT THEY WANTED IN THE STORE GAVE THEM WHAT THEY WANTED IN THE STORE...
"Yeah, and that's gonna cause a lot lot of trouble, master. All them 'toy pigs that really work.' I didn't say nothing 'cos it was getting the job done but you can't go on like that. What good's a god who gives you everything you want?" of trouble, master. All them 'toy pigs that really work.' I didn't say nothing 'cos it was getting the job done but you can't go on like that. What good's a god who gives you everything you want?"
YOU HAVE ME THERE.
"It's the hope hope that's important. Big part of belief, hope. Give people jam today and they'll just sit and eat it. Jam tomorrow, now-that'll keep them going forever." that's important. Big part of belief, hope. Give people jam today and they'll just sit and eat it. Jam tomorrow, now-that'll keep them going forever."
AND YOU MEAN THAT BECAUSE OF THIS THE POOR GET POOR THINGS AND THE RICH GET RICH THINGS?.
"'s right," said Albert. "That's the meaning of Hogswatch."
Death nearly wailed.
BUT I' I'M THE H HOGFATHER! He looked embarrassed. AT THE MOMENT, I MEAN MEAN.
"Makes no difference," said Albert, shrugging. "I remember when I was a nipper, one Hogswatch I had my heart set on this huge model horse they had in the shop..." His face creased for a moment in a grim smile of recollection. "I remember I spent hours hours one day, cold as charity the weather was, I spent one day, cold as charity the weather was, I spent hours hours with my nose pressed up against the window...until they heard me callin', and unfroze me. I saw them take it out of the window, someone was in there buying it, and, y'know, just for a second I thought it really was going to be for me...Oh, I with my nose pressed up against the window...until they heard me callin', and unfroze me. I saw them take it out of the window, someone was in there buying it, and, y'know, just for a second I thought it really was going to be for me...Oh, I dreamed dreamed of that toy horse. It were red and white with a real saddle and everything. And rockers. I'd've of that toy horse. It were red and white with a real saddle and everything. And rockers. I'd've killed killed for that horse." He shrugged again. "Not a chance, of course, 'cos we didn't have a pot to piss in and we even 'ad to spit on the bread to make it soft enough to eat-" for that horse." He shrugged again. "Not a chance, of course, 'cos we didn't have a pot to piss in and we even 'ad to spit on the bread to make it soft enough to eat-"
PLEASE ENLIGHTEN ME. WHAT IS SO IMPORTANT ABOUT HAVING A POT TO PISS IN?.
"It's...it's more like a figure of speech, master. It means you're as poor as a church mouse."
ARE THEY POOR?.
"Well...yeah."
BUT SURELY NOT MORE POOR THAN ANY OTHER MOUSE? AND, AFTER ALL, THERE TEND TO BE LOTS OF CANDLES AND THINGS THEY COULD EAT.
"Figure of speech again, master. It doesn't have to make sense."
OH. I SEE SEE. DO CARRY ON.
"O' course, I still hung up my stocking on Hogswatch Eve, and in the morning, you know, you know what? Our dad had put in this little horse he'd carved his very own self..."
AH, said Death. AND THAT WAS WORTH MORE THAN ALL THE EXPENSIVE TOY HORSES IN THE WORLD, EH?
Albert gave him a beady look. "No!" he said. "It weren't weren't. All I could think of was it wasn't the big horse in the window."
Death looked shocked.
BUT HOW MUCH BETTER TO HAVE A TOY CARVED WITH- "No. Only grown-ups think like that," said Albert. "You're a selfish little bugger when you're seven. Anyway, Dad got ratted after lunch and trod on it."
LUNCH?.
"All right, mebbe we had a bit of pork dripping for the bread..."
EVEN SO, THE SPIRIT OF H HOGSWATCH- Albert sighed. "If you like, master. If you like."
Death looked perturbed.
BUT SUPPOSING THE H HOGFATHER HAD BROUGHT YOU THE WONDERFUL HORSE- "Oh, Dad would've flogged it for a couple of bottles," said Albert.
BUT WE HAVE BEEN INTO HOUSES WHERE THE CHILDREN HAD MANY TOYS AND BROUGHT THEM EVEN MORE MORE TOYS, AND IN HOUSES LIKE THIS THE CHILDREN GET PRACTICALLY NOTHING TOYS, AND IN HOUSES LIKE THIS THE CHILDREN GET PRACTICALLY NOTHING.
"Huh, we'd have given anything anything to get to get practically practically nothing when I were a lad," said Albert. nothing when I were a lad," said Albert.
BE HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU'VE GOT, IS THAT THE IDEA?
"That's about the size of it, master. A good god line, that. Don't give 'em too much and tell 'em to be happy with it. Jam tomorrow, see."
THIS IS WRONG. Death hesitated. I MEAN...IT'S MEAN...IT'S RIGHT RIGHT TO BE HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO BE HAPPY WITH WHAT YOU'VE GOT. BUT YOU'VE GOT TO HAVE SOMETHING TO BE HAPPY ABOUT HAVING. THERE'S NO POINT IN BEING HAPPY ABOUT HAVING NOTHING.
Albert felt a bit out of his depth in this new tide of social philosophy.
"Dunno," he said. "I suppose people'd say they've got the moon and the stars and such like."
I'M SURE THEY WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO PRODUCE THE PAPERWORK.
"All I know is, if Dad'd caught us us with a big bag of pricey toys we'd just have got a ding round the ear hole for nicking 'em." with a big bag of pricey toys we'd just have got a ding round the ear hole for nicking 'em."
IT IS...UNFAIR.
"That's life, master."
BUT I' I'M NOT.
"I meant, this is how it's supposed to go, master," said Albert.
NO. YOU MEAN THIS IS HOW IT GOES.
Albert leaned against the stove and rolled himself one of his horrible thin cigarettes. It was best to let the master work his own way through these things. He got over them eventually. It was like that business with the violin. For three days there was nothing but twangs and broken strings, and then he'd never touched the thing again. That was the trouble, really. Everything the master did was was a bit like that. When things got into his head you just had to wait until they leaked out again. a bit like that. When things got into his head you just had to wait until they leaked out again.
He'd thought that Hogswatch was all...plum pudding and brandy and ho ho ho, and he didn't have the kind of mind that could ignore all the other stuff. And so it hurt him.
IT IS H HOGSWATCH, said Death, AND PEOPLE DIE ON THE STREETS AND PEOPLE DIE ON THE STREETS. PEOPLE FEAST BEHIND LIGHTED WINDOWS AND OTHER PEOPLE HAVE NO HOMES. IS THIS FAIR?
"Well, of course, that's the big issue-" Albert began.
THE PEASANT HAD A HANDFUL OF BEANS AND THE KING HAD SO MUCH HE WOULD NOT EVEN NOTICE THAT WHICH HE GAVE AWAY. IS THIS FAIR?.
"Yeah, but if you gave it all to the peasant then in a year or two he'd be just as snooty as the king-" began Albert, jaundiced observer of human nature.
NAUGHTY AND NICE? said Death. BUT IT'S EASY EASY TO BE NICE IF YOU'RE RICH TO BE NICE IF YOU'RE RICH. IS THIS FAIR?
Albert wanted to argue. He wanted to say, Really? In that case, how come so many of the rich buggers is bastards? And being poor don't mean being naughty, neither. We was poor when I were a kid, but we was honest. Well, more stupid than honest, to tell the truth. But basically honest.
He didn't argue, though. The master wasn't in any mood for it. He always did what needed to be done.
"You did did say we just had to do this so's people'd believe-" he began, and then stopped and started again. "When it comes to say we just had to do this so's people'd believe-" he began, and then stopped and started again. "When it comes to fair fair, master, you yourself-"
I AM EVENHANDED TO RICH AND POOR ALIKE AM EVENHANDED TO RICH AND POOR ALIKE, snapped Death. BUT THIS SHOULD NOT BE A SAD TIME. THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY. He wrapped his red robe around him. AND OTHER THINGS ENDING IN OLLY, he added.
"There's no blade," said the oh god. "It's just a sword hilt."
Susan stepped out of the light and her wrist moved. A sparkling blue line flashed in the air, for a moment outlining an edge too thin to be seen.
The oh god backed away.
"What's that that?"
"Oh, it cuts tiny bits of the air in half. It can cut the soul away from the body, so stand back, please."
"Oh, I will, I will."
Susan fished the black scabbard out of the umbrella stand.
Umbrella stand! It never rained here, but Death had an umbrella stand. Practically no one else Susan knew had an umbrella stand. In any list of useful furniture, the one found at the bottom would be the umbrella stand.
Death lived in a black world, where nothing was alive and everything was dark and his great library only had dust and cobwebs because he'd created them for effect and there was never any sun in the sky and the air never moved and he had an umbrella stand and he had an umbrella stand. And a pair of silver-backed hairbrushes by his bed. He wanted to be something more than just a bony apparition. He tried to create these flashes of personality but somehow they betrayed themselves, they tried too hard, like an adolescent boy going out wearing an after-shave called "Rampant."
Grandfather always always got things wrong. He saw life from outside and never quite understood. got things wrong. He saw life from outside and never quite understood.