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Rincewind examined the rock in his hand, which contained the perfectly preserved, exquisitely detailed impression of a stick1, and after some thought consigned it ot the box marked "Really, Really Boring Rocks." The previous Egregious Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography had collected rocks and sorted them into boxes of "Interesting Rocks," "Interesting Rocks from Further Down," and "Boring Rocks." Rincewind was subdividing that last box and wondering happily if it was actually possible to die of boredom.
MAYBE.
Rincewind whirled and found himself face to...well, anyway, facing a dark cowled figure who was probably not Batman. The scythe held negligently in one bony hand was, so to speak, a dead give-away. He--Rincewind, that is--gave a surprised squeak and began backing away, stopping only when he reached his office wall.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded2. "I'm not in any danger. I'm not being chased by anyone, I'm not being thrown off the Disc--again!--and I haven't been sent to hell. I like my life--I like boredom, there are enough potatoes, and I'm HAPPY!" Rincewind heard his own words and tried to fit his entire fist into his mouth to retroactively stop them emerging. When this failed to work3 he moaned instead. "Oh, gods, I'm doomed. I'm gonna die!"
Death4 hesitated a moment. MAYBE. He considered a moment longer. PROBABLY NOT.
"Then why are you here?" Rincewind screamed, not a man to resist a panic under the best of circumstances, which these were not.
Death hesitated again. I'M NOT SURE YOU WILL DIE, he admitted. EVER. YOUR LIFE-TIMER IS...CONFUSED. CONFUSING. YOU ARE A WIZARD, SO I MUST SHOW UP WHEN YOU DIE. SINCE I DON'T KNOW WHEN THAT WILL BE, I DECIDED YOU MIGHT BE THE BEST JUDGE OF THAT.
"So if I think I'm going to die, you show up, just in case?" Rincewind asked, his mind pinging like a three-year old on a sugar-high between Death being uncertain if he would ever die and the memory of such an august personage as Death recognizing that that he really was a wizard. Not dying should have been more important, especially to a confirmed coward like Rincewind, but as the Disc's worst wizard the recognition was nice too.
BASICALLY, YES. Death sat in one of Rincewind's two chairs5. TELL ME, DO YOU LIKE CATS?
Rincewind blinked at the non sequitur. "What?"
If a fleshless skull could look embarrassed, Death's did. I DON'T NORMALLY TALK TO PEOPLE MORE THAN ONCE, he admitted. I'M NOT GOOD AT...SMALL TALK.
Had Rincewind eaten a bad potato? Delirium6 would explain so much. "What about your daughter?" he asked, remembering that rather scary individual he had met shortly after being thrown off the Disc the first time.
SHE GREW UP. MARRIED. Death hesitated again. DIED. He sighed. MY GRANDDAUGHTER...ISN'T QUITE...COMFORTABLE WITH ME.
"She isn't comfortable having Death for a grandfather?" Rincewind asked, deciding the conversation couldn't get much weirder. No one seemed actively inclined to kill him, so if Death wanted to chit-chat, why not! Talking about other people's relatives was almost as boring as sorting rocks with sticks in, after all, and he liked boredom. Boredom was good. Boredom was safe.
Only why did he get the feeling that Death should be lying on a couch while Rincewind sat in a chair behind him smoking a pipe?
SHE'S NOT COMFORTABLE KNOWING THAT SHE'S NOT QUITE HUMAN. Rincewind would have sworn that Death smiled then if his bare skull weren't always grinning. SHE RECENTLY MET A WEREWOLF, SO THAT MAY BE CHANGING.
Werewolf? Rincewind shuddered, but that was nothing new, since he frequently resembled a badly set blanche mange. "They say the Watch employs a werewolf."
Death nodded and again Rincewind thought he smiled. YES. The blue glow in one eye socket dimmed and brightened in what might have been a wink.
Rincewind had met Nobby a time or two, usually when they were both face-down in the gutter. "Er--I don't think he would make the best grandson-in-law," he ventured7.
SHE, Death corrected. I DON'T THINK THEY'RE THAT SERIOUS. THE OTHER YOUNG LADY HAS A PRIOR ATTACHMENT, AND SUSAN...SUSAN HAS ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD. He seemed rather pleased with this enigmatic statement. They both remained silent for a few moments while Death contemplated--whatever it was that he was contemplating--and Rincewind tried to figure out if he was supposed to understand what Death was talking about.
Death cleared his throat finally. WELL. He cleared his throat again and then stood. I SHOULD LEAVE. YOU KNOW HOW IT IS, PEOPLE TO SEE--
"Souls to collect?"
YES. Death studied Rincewind. I SUSPECT I WILL SEE YOU AGAIN, he said before leaving as abruptly and silently as he arrived.
Rincewind stared at the box marked "Boring Rocks" and decided he needed something less exciting. Maybe it was time to go peel bananas for the Librarian.
1 Straight, one and a half inches long, and about as thick as a thin stick.
2 'Demanded' is perhaps too strong a word, liable as it is to get one in trouble with the powerful, but it avoids the ugly adjective of 'asked frantically.'
3 The average mouth is large enough for a foot, two in a pinch, but only half a fist.
4 For those not familiar with the Discworld, the cowled figure in the last paragraph but one is Death, an anthromorphic personification who TALKS LIKE THIS.
5 Every office in Unseen University was supplied with a second chair in case a student came for advice, an eventuality the faculty tried--entirely successfully--to avoid.
6 Not the Sandman character.
7 Wizards are supposed to be8 celibate, which gives them an odd view9 of the range of possible human relationships.
8 I.e. occasionally are.
9 I.e. limited.