Hogfather

saw his bemused expression.
    “Look…how would you make sure everyone in the world was well fed?” she demanded.
    “Me? Oh, well, I…” The oh god spluttered for a moment. “I suppose you’d have to think about the prevalent political systems, and the proper division and cultivation of arable land, and—”
    “Yes, yes. But he’d just give everyone a good meal,” said Susan.
    “Oh, I see. Very impractical. Hah, it’s as silly as saying you could clothe the naked by, well, giving them some clothes.”
    “Yes! I mean, no. Of course not! I mean, obviously you’d give—oh, you know what I mean!”
    “Yes, I suppose so.”
    “But he wouldn’t.”
    There was a crash beside them.
    A burning wheel always rolls out of flaming wreckage. Two men carrying a large sheet of glass always cross the road in front of any comedy actor involved in a crazy car chase. Some narrative conventions are so strong that equivalents happen even on planets where the rocks boil at noon. And when a fully laden table collapses, one miraculously unbroken plate always rolls across the floor and spins to a halt.
    Susan and the oh god watched it, and then turned their attention to the huge figure now lying in what remained of an enormous centerpiece made of fruit.
    “He just…came right out of the air,” whispered the oh god.
    “Really? Don’t just stand there. Give me a hand to help him up, will you?” said Susan, pulling at a large melon.
    “Er, that’s a bunch of grapes behind his ear—”
    “Well?”
    “I don’t like even to think about grapes—”
    “Oh, come on .”
    Together they managed to get the newcomer onto his feet.
    “Toga, sandals…he looks a bit like you,” said Susan, as the fruit victim swayed heavily.
    “Was I that green color?”
    “Close.”
    “Is…is there a privy nearby?” mumbled their burden, through clammy lips.
    “I believe it’s through that arch over there,” said Susan. “I’ve heard it’s not very pleasant, though.”
    “That’s not a rumor, that’s a forecast,” said the fat figure, and lurched off. “And then can I please have a glass of water and one charcoal biscuit…”
    They watched him go.
    “Friend of yours?” said Susan.
    “God of Indigestion, I think. Look…I…er…I think I do remember something ,” said the oh god. “Just before I, um, incarnated. But it sounds stupid…”
    “Well?”
    “Teeth,” said the oh god.
    Susan hesitated.
    “You don’t mean something attacking you, do you?” she said flatly.
    “No. Just…a sensation of toothiness. Probably doesn’t mean much. As God of Hangovers I see a lot worse, I can tell you.”
    “Just teeth. Lots of teeth. But not horrible teeth. Just lots and lots of little teeth. Almost…sad?”
    “Yes! How did you know?”
    “Oh, I…maybe I remember you telling me before you told me. I don’t know. How about a big shiny red globe?”
    The oh god looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, “No, can’t help you there, I’m afraid. It’s just teeth. Rows and rows of teeth.”
    “I don’t remember rows,” said Susan. “I just felt…teeth were important.”
    “Nah, it’s amazing what you can do with a beak,” said the raven, who’d been investigating the laden table and had succeeded in levering a lid off a jar.
    “What have you got there?” said Susan wearily.
    “Eyeballs,” said the raven. “Hah, wizards know how to live all right, eh? They don’t want for nothing around here, I can tell you.”
    “They’re olives,” said Susan.
    “Tough luck,” said the raven. “They’re mine now.”
    “They’re a kind of fruit! Or a vegetable or something!”
    “You sure?” The raven swiveled one doubtful eye on the jar and the other on her.
    “Yes!”
    The eyes swiveled again.
    “So you’re an eyeball expert all of a sudden?”
    “Look, they’re green , you stupid bird!”
    “They could be very old eyeballs,” said the raven defiantly. “Sometimes they go like that—”
    S QUEAK , said the Death of Rats, who was halfway through a cheese.
    “And not so much of the stupid,” said the raven. “Corvids are exceptionally bright with reasoning and, in the case of some forest species, tool-using abilities!”
    “Oh, so you are an expert on ravens, are you?” said Susan.
    “Madam, I happen to be a—”
    S QUEAK , said the Death of Rats again.
    They both turned. It was pointing at its gray teeth.
    “The Tooth Fairy?” said Susan. “What about her?”
    S QUEAK .
    “Rows of