Moving Pictures (Discworld 10)

'What huge eunuchs?' said Victor, as the camel unfolded itself upwards.

One of the huge eunuchs shyly raised a hand.

'It's me. Morry,' it said.

'Oh. Hi, Morry.'

'Hi, Vic.,

'And me, Rock,' said a second huge eunuch.

'Hi, Rock.'

'Hi, Vic.'

'Places, everyone,' said Dibbler. 'We'll - what is it, Rock?'

'Er, I was just wondering, Mr Dibbler . . . what is my motivation for this scene?'

'Motivation?'

'Yes. Er. I got to know, see,' said Rock.

'How about: I'll fire you if you don't do it properly?'

Rock grinned. 'Right you are, Mr Dibbler,' he said.

'OK,' said Dibbler. 'Everyone ready . . . turn 'em!'

Evil-minded Son of a Bitch turned awkwardly, legs flailing at odd camel angles, and then lumbered into a complicated trot. The handle turned . . .

The air glittered.

And Victor awoke. It was like rising slowly out of a pink cloud, or a magnificent dream which, try as you might, drains out of your mind as the daylight shuffles in, leaving a terrible sense of loss; nothing, you know instinctively, nothing you're going to experience for the rest of the day is going to be one half as good as that dream.

He blinked. The images faded away. He was aware of

an ache in his muscles, as if he'd recently been really exerting himself.

'What happened?' he mumbled.

He looked down.

'Wow,' he said. An expanse of barely-clad buttock occupied a view recently occupied by the camel's neck. It was an improvement.

'Why', said Ginger icily, 'am I lying on a camel?'

'Search me. Didn't you want to?'

She slid down on to the sand and tried to adjust her costume.

At this point they both became aware of the audience.

There was Dibbler. There was Dibbler's nephew. There was the handleman. There were the extras. There were the assorted vicepresidents and other people who are apparently called into existence by the mere presence of moving-picture creation.[12] There was Gaspode the Wonder Dog.

eans the desert bandits ride in single file, though,' said the youth. 'It's not like, you know, a massed attack.'

'Sure, sure,' said Dibbler dismissively. 'Makes sense. We just put a card up where the leader says, he says-' He thought for a second. 'He says, “Follow me in single file, bwanas, to fool the hated enemy,” OK?'