'Somewhere where someone else, who should have existed, didn't,' said Susan, half to herself. 'Pardon?'

'The Hogfather wasn't there.' said Susan. 'He shouldn't have been there anyway, not tonight, but this time he wasn't there not because he was somewhere else but because he wasn't anywhere any more. Even his castle was vanishing.'

'I expect I shall get the hang of this incarnation business as I go along,' said the oh god. 'Most people---' Susan began. A shudder ran through her body. 'Oh, no. What's he doing? WHAT'S HE DOING?' A JOB WELL DONE, I FANCY. The sleigh thundered across the night. Frozen fields passed underneath. 'Hmph,' said Albert. He sniffed. WHAT DO YOU CALL THAT WARM FEELING YOU GET INSIDE; 'Heartburn!' Albert snapped. DO I DETECT A NOTE OF UNSEASONAL GRUMPINESS? said Death. NO SUGAR PIGGYWIGGY FOR YOU, ALBERT. 'I don't want any present, master.' Albert sighed. 'Except maybe to wake up and find it's all back to normal. Look, you know it always goes, wrong when you start changing things. . .' BUT THE HOGFATHER CAN CHANGE THINGS. LITTLE MIRACLES ALL OVER THE PLACE, WITH MANY A MERRY HO, HO, HO. TEACHING PEOPLE THE REAL MEANING OF HOGSWATCH, ALBERT. 'What, you mean that the pigs and cattle have all been slaughtered and with any luck everyone's got enough food for the winter?' WELL, WHEN I SAY THE REAL MEANING 'Some wretched devil's had his head chopped off in a wood somewhere 'cos he found a bean in his dinner and now the summer's going to come back?' NOT EXACTLY THAT, BUT- 'Oh, you mean that they've chased down some poor beast and shot arrows up into their apple trees and now the shadows are going to go away?' THAT IS DEFINITELY A MEANING, BUT I 'Ah, then you're talking about the one where they light a bloody big bonfire to give the sun a hint and tell it to stop lurking under the horizon and do a proper day's work?' Death paused, while the hogs hurtled over a range of hills. YOU'RE NOT HELPING, ALBERT. 'Well, they're all the real meanings that I know.' I THINK YOU COULD WORK WITH ME ON THIS. 'It's all about the sun, master. White snow and red blood and the sun. Always has been.' VERY WELL, THEN. THE HOGFATHER CAN TEACH PEOPLE THE UNREAL MEANING OF HOGSWATCH. Albert spat over the side of the sleigh. 'Hah! “Wouldn't It Be Nice If Everyone Was Nice”, eh? THERE ARE WORSE BATTLE CRIES. 'Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear . . EXCUSE ME ... Death reached into his robe and pulled out an hourglass. TURN THE SLEIGH AROUND, ALBERT. DUTY CALLS. 'Which one?'

A MORE POSITIVE ATTITUDE WOULD ASSIST AT THIS POINT, THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH. 'Fascinatin'. Anyone got another pencil?' said Ridcully. 'It's had four already,' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. 'Right down to the stub, Archchancellor. And you know we buy our own these days.' It was a sore point. Like most people with no grasp whatsoever of real economics, Mustrum Ridcully equated 'proper financial control' with the counting of paperclips. Even senior wizards had to produce a pencil stub to him before they were allowed a new one out of the locked cupboard below his desk. Since of course hardly anyone retained a half-used pencil, the wizards had been reduced to sneaking out and buying new ones with their own money. The reason for the dearth of short pencils was perched in front of them, whirring away as it chewed an HB down to the eraser on the end, which it spat at the Bursar. Ponder Stibbons had been making notes. 'I think it works like this,' he said. 'What we're getting is the personification of forces, just like Hex said. But it only works if the thing is ... well, logical.' He swallowed. Ponder was a great believer in logic, in the face of all the local evidence, and he hated having to use the word in this way. 'I don't mean it's logical that there's a creature that eats socks, but it ... a ... it makes a sort of sense . . . I mean it's a working hypothesis.'

'Bit like the Hogfather,' said Ridcully. 'When you're a kiddie, he's as good an explanation as any, right?'

'What's not logical about there being a goblin that brings me huge bags of money?' said the Dean sulkily. Ridcully fed the Stealer of Pencils another pencil. 'Welt sir ... firstly, you've never mysteriously received huge bags of money and needed to find a hypothesis to explain them, and secondly, no one else would think it at all likely.'

'Huh!'

'Why's it happening now?' said Ridcully. 'Look its hopped onto my finger! Anyone got another pencil?'

'Well, these ... forces have always been here,' said Ponder. 'I mean, socks and pencils have always inexplicably gone missing, haven't they? But why they're suddenly getting personified like this ... I'm afraid I don't know.'

'Well, we'd better find out, hadn't we?' said Ridcully. 'Can't have this sort of thing going on. Daft anti-gods and miscellaneous whatnots being created just because people've thought about 'em? We could have anything turn up, anyway. Supposing some idiot says there must be a god of indigestion, eh?' Glingleglingleglingle. 'Er . . . I think someone just did, sir,' said Ponder. 'What's the matter? What's the matter?' said the oh god. He took Susan by the shoulders. They felt bony under his hands. 'DAMN,' said Susan. She pushed him away and steadied herself on the table, taking care that he didn't see her face. Finally, with a measure of the self-control she'd taught herself over the last few years, she managed to get her own voice back. 'He's slipping out of character,' she muttered, to the hall in general. 'I can feel him doing it. And that drags me in. What's he doing it all for?'

'Search me,' said the oh god, who'd backed away hurriedly. 'Er ... just then ... before you turned your face away ... it looked as though you were wearing very dark eye shadow ... only you weren't . . .'

'Look, it's very simple,' said Susan, spinning round. She could feel her hair restyling itself, which it always did when it was anxious. 'You know how stuff runs in families? Blue eyes, buck teeth, that sort of thing? Well, Death runs in my family.'

'Er ... in everybody's family, doesn't it?' said the oh god. 'Just shut up, please, don't gabble,' said Susan. ,I didn't mean death, I meant Death with a capital D. I remember things that haven't happened yet and I Can TALK THAT TALK and stalk that stalk and ... if he gets sidetracked, then I'll have to do it. And he does get sidetracked. I don't know what's really happened to the real Hogfather or why Grandfather's doing his job, but I know a bit about how he thinks and he's got no ... no mental shields like we have. He doesn't know how to forget things or ignore things. He takes everything literally and logically and doesn't understand why that doesn't always work----' She 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 meat' 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 centrepiece 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 on to his feet. 'Toga, sandals ... he looks a bit like you,' said Susan, as the fruit victim swayed heavily. 'Was I that green colour?'

'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 rumour, 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 swivelled one doubtful eye on the jar and the other on her. 'Yes!' The eyes swivelled 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---' SQUEAK, 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---' SQUEAK, said the Death of Rats again. They both turned. It was pointing at its grey teeth. 'The Tooth Fairy?' said Susan. 'What about her?' SQUEAK. `Rows of teeth,' said the oh god again. 'Like . . . rows, you know? What's the Tooth Fairy?'

'Oh, you see her around a lot these days,' said Susan. 'Or them, rather. Its a sort of franchise operation. You get the ladder, the moneybelt and the pliers and you're set up.'

'Pliers?'

'If she can't make change she has to take an extra tooth on account. But, look, the tooth fairies are harmless enough. I've met one or two of them. They're just working girls. They don't menace anyone.' SQUEAK. 'I just hope Grandfather doesn't take it into his head to do their job as well. Good grief, the thought of it---'

'They collect teeth?'

'Yes. Obviously.'

'Why?'

'Why? It's their job.'

'I meant why, where do they take the teeth after they collect them?'

'I don't know! They just ... well, they just take the teeth and leave the money,' said Susan. 'What sort of question is that - 'Where do they take the teeth?'?'

'I just wondered, that's all. Probably all humans know, I'm probably very silly for asking, it's probably a wellknown fact.' Susan looked thoughtfully at the Death of Rats. 'Actually ... where do they take the teeth?' SQUEAK? 'He says search him,' said the raven. 'Maybe they sell 'em?' It pecked at another jar. 'How about these, these look nice and wrinkl---'