The Last Continent

chains to your weight to get the drop right,” said the warder.
    “Does that matter?” said Rincewind in a hollow voice. “I mean, I die anyway, don’t I?”
    “Yeah, no worries there, but if he gets it wrong, see, you either end up with a neck six feet long or, you’ll laugh about this, your head flies off like a perishin’ cork!”
    “Oh, good.”
    “With Larrikin Larry we had to search the roof all arvo!”
    “Marvelous. All arvo, eh?” said Rincewind. “Well, you won’t have that problem with me. I shall be elsewhere when I’m being hanged.”
    “That’s what we like to hear!” said the warder, punching him jovially in the elbow. “A battler to the end, eh?”
    There was a rumbling from Mt. Vince.
    “And Vince says he’ll be very privileged if you’d care to spit in his eye when he puts the rope aroun’ your neck,” the warder went on. “That’ll be something to show his grandchildren—”
    “Will you all please go away!” Rincewind shouted.
    “Ah, you’ll be wanting some time to plot your getaway,” said the warder knowingly. “No worries. We’ll be leavin’ you alone, then.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Until about five A.M .”
    “Good,” said Rincewind gloomily.
    “Got any requests for your last breakfast?”
    “Something that takes a really really long time to prepare?” said Rincewind.
    “That’s the spirit!”
    “Go away!”
    “No worries.”
    The men walked off, but the warder strolled back after a while as if he had something on his mind.
    “There is something that you ought to know about the hanging, though,” he said. “Might brighten up your night.”
    “Yes?”
    “We’ve got a special humanitarian tradition if the trapdoor sticks three times.”
    “Yes?”
    “Sounds a bit odd, but it’s happened once or twice, believe it or not.”
    A tiny green shoot rose from the blackened branches of hope.
    “And what’s the tradition?” said Rincewind.
    “It’s on account of it being heartless to have a man standing there more than three times, knowing that at any second his—”
    “Yes, yes—”
    “—and then all his—”
    “Yes—”
    “—and the worst part to my mind is where your—”
    “Yes, I understand! And so…after the third time…?”
    “He’s allowed back into his cell while we get a carpenter in to repair the trapdoor,” said the warder. “We even give him his dinner, if it’s gone on a long time.”
    “And?”
    “Well, when the carpenter’s given it a good test, then we take him out again and hang him.” He saw Rincewind’s expression. “No need to look like that. ’s better than having to stand around in the cold all morning, isn’t it? That wouldn’t be nice.”
    When he’d gone, Rincewind sat and stared at the wall.
    “Baa!”
    “Shut up.”
    So it was down to this, then. One brief night left, and then, if these clowns had anything to do with it, happy people would be wandering the streets to see where his head had come down. There was no justice!
    G’ DAY, MATE .
    “Oh, no. Please .”
    I JUST THOUGHT I SHOULD ENTER INTO THE SPIRIT OF THE THING . A VERY CONVIVIAL PEOPLE, AREN’T THEY ? said Death. He was sitting beside Rincewind.
    “You just can’t wait, can you?” said Rincewind bitterly.
    N O WORRIES .
    “So this is really it, then. I was supposed to have saved this country, you know. And I’m going to really die.”
    O H, YES . T HIS IS CERTAIN , I’ M AFRAID .
    “It’s the stupidity of it that gets me. I mean, think of all the times I’ve nearly died in the past. I could’ve been flamed by dragons, right? Or eaten by huge things with tentacles. Or even had every single particle of my body fly off in a different direction.”
    Y OU HAVE CERTAINLY HAD AN INTERESTING LIFE .
    “Is it true that your life passes before your eyes before you die?”
    Y ES .
    “Ghastly thought, really.” Rincewind shuddered. “Oh, gods , I’ve just had another one. Suppose I am just about to die and this is my whole life passing in front of my eyes?”
    I THINK PERHAPS YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND . P EOPLE’S WHOLE LIVES DO PASS IN FRONT OF THEIR EYES BEFORE THEY DIE . T HE PROCESS IS CALLED “LIVING .” W OULD YOU LIKE A PRAWN ?
    Rincewind looked down at the bucket on Death’s lap.
    “No, thank you. I really don’t think so. They can be pretty deadly. And I must say it’s a bit much of you to come here and gloat and eat prawns at me.”
    I BEG YOUR PARDON ?
    “Just because I’m being hanged in the morning, I