Fanfiction: Pratchett

02/06/2014 21:01

This was an assignment from a couple of months ago to write a piece of fanfiction. I chose Pratchett…

 

“Co-ee, only me.” Nanny Ogg stuck her head around the back door of Granny Weatherwax’s cottage.

Granny Weatherwax was sitting at the table, poker-straight and glaring fiercely at an envelope lying on the tabletop. “You take a look at that.” she snapped.

Nanny ambled over and pulled the letter out of the creased envelope as Granny stood up stiffly and went over to put the kettle on.

“Ooh-er.” Nanny said as the kettle boiled, putting the letter down. “An invite to give a speech. Well, I never did.”

“Cheek, I call it.”

“All the way in Ankh-Morpork, too.” Nanny continued. “And they sent coach tickets.”

“Can’t be having with it.” Granny snapped, bringing two cups and saucers of tea over to the table. “Not at my time of life.”

“Who is it, anyway?” Nanny said, pulling the letter out again. “The Wizarding Association of Magical Pract-ion-ers of Ankh-Morpork. Who’re they?”

“Flash buggers.” Granny sniffed disdainfully. “Probably that Ridcully who put ’em up to it.”

“They want you to give a speech on…” Nanny’s face screwed up, “magical prac-tit-oners in alt’ntive oper-ation-al theatres – ain’t that where plays are done? What’s that got to do with it?”

“Basically, they want to know how other people do magic.” Granny translated. “Theatres is like places.”

“Oh.” Nanny considered it. “Well, you’d get to tell them something.”

“Can’t be having with it.” Granny Weatherwax repeated with another sniff. “Don’t know why they asked me.”

“There’d be all sorts of important buggers there too.” Nanny said thoughtfully. “You’d meet lots of people.”

“Met ’em.” Granny snapped. “Don’t know why I’d want to meet them again.”

“And Ridcully would be pleased to see you.” Nanny added.

“Hah!”

“Well, I s’pose they wouldn’t really be interested in what you have to say…” Nanny said, putting the letter back in the envelope.

“Not interested? Not interested?” Granny glared and snatched the envelope out of Nanny Ogg’s hand. “They invited me, din’t they? They’re going to be interested if it kills ’em. When’re those tickets for?”