Hogfather

this—”

    It was a big drink. A very big and a very long drink. It was one of those special cocktails where each very sticky, very strong ingredient is poured in very slowly, so that they layer on top of one another. Drinks like this tend to get called Traffic Lights or Rainbow’s Revenge or, in places where truth is more highly valued, Hello and Good-bye, Mr. Brain Cell.
    In addition, this drink had some lettuce floating in it. And a slice of lemon and a piece of pineapple hooked coquettishly on the side of the glass, which had sugar frosted round the rim. There were two paper umbrellas, one pink and one blue, and they each had a cherry on the end.
    And someone had taken the trouble to freeze ice cubes in the shape of little elephants. After that, there’s no hope. You might as well be drinking in a place called the Cococobana.
    The God of Wine picked it up lovingly. It was his kind of drink.
    There was a rumba going on in the background. There were also a couple of young ladies snuggling up to him. It was going to be a good night. It was always a good night.
    “Happy Hogswatch, everyone!” he said, and raised the glass.
    And then: “Can anyone hear something?”
    Someone blew a paper squeaker at him.
    “No, seriously…like a sort of descending note…?”
    Since no one paid this any attention he shrugged, and nudged one of his fellow drinkers.
    “How about we have a couple more and go to this club I know?” he said.
    And then—

    The wizards leaned back, and one or two of them grimaced.
    Only the oh god stayed glued to the glass, face contorted in a vicious smile.
    “We have eructation!” he shouted, and punched the air. “Yes! Yes! Yes ! The worm is on the other boot now, eh? Hah! How do you like them apples, huh?”
    “Well, mainly apples—” said the Dean.
    “Looked like a lot of other things to me,” said Ridcully. “It seems we have reversed the cause-effect flow…”
    “Will it be permanent?” said the oh god hopefully.
    “I shouldn’t think so. After all, you are the God of Hangovers. It’ll probably just reverse itself again when the potion wears off.”
    “Then I may not have much time. Bring me…let’s see…twenty pints of lager, some pepper vodka and a bottle of coffee liqueur! With an umbrella in it! Let’s see how he enjoys that, Mr. You’ve Got Room For Another One In There!”
    Susan grabbed his hand and pulled him over to a bench.
    “I didn’t have you sobered up just so you could go on a binge!” she said.
    He blinked at her. “You didn’t?”
    “I want you to help me!”
    “Help you what?”
    “You said you’d never been human before, didn’t you?”
    “Er…” The oh god looked down at himself. “That’s right,” he said. “Never.”
    “You’ve never incarnated?” said Ridcully.
    “Surely that’s a rather personal question, isn’t it?” said the Chair of Indefinite Studies.
    “That’s…right,” said the oh god. “Odd, that. I remember always having headaches…but never having a head. That can’t be right, can it?”
    “You existed in potentia ?” said Ridcully.
    “Did I?”
    “Did he?” said Susan.
    Ridcully paused. “Oh dear,” he said. “I think I did it, didn’t I? I said something to young Stibbons about drinking and hangovers, didn’t I…?”
    “And you created him just like that?” said the Dean. “I find that very hard to believe, Mustrum. Hah! Out of thin air? I suppose we can all do that, can we? Anyone care to think up some new pixie?”
    “Like the Hair Loss Fairy?” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. The other wizards laughed.
    “I am not losing my hair!” snapped the Dean. “It is just very finely spaced.”
    “Half on your head and half on your hairbrush,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
    “No sense in bein’ bashful about goin’ bald,” said Ridcully evenly. “Anyway, you know what they say about bald men, Dean.”
    “Yes, they say, ‘Look at him, he’s got no hair,’” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. The Dean had been annoying him lately.
    “For the last time,” shouted the Dean, “I am not —”
    He stopped.
    There was a glingleglingleglingle noise.
    “I wish I knew where that was coming from,” said Ridcully.
    “Er…” the Dean began. “Is there…something on my head?”
    The other wizards stared.
    Something was moving under his hat.
    Very carefully, he reached up and removed it.
    The very small gnome sitting on his head had a clump of the Dean’s hair in each hand.