'That's the first time anything like that has ever happened to me.' ,
TO ANYONE. BUT NOT, I SUSPECT, THE LAST TIME.
Death stood up. There was a clicking of knee joints. He no longer cracked his skull on the ceiling. There wasn't a ceiling any more. The room had gently faded away.
There were such things as dwarf gods. Dwarfs were not a naturally religious species, but in a world where pit props could crack without warning and pockets of fire damp could suddenly explode they'd seen the need for gods as the sort of supernatural equivalent of a hard hat. Besides, when you hit your thumb with an eight-pound hammer it's nice to be able to blaspheme. It takes a very special and strong-minded kind of atheist to jump up and down with their hand clasped under their other armpit and shout, 'Oh, random-fluctuations-in-the-space-time-continuum!' or 'Aaargh, primitive-and-out-moded-concept on a crutch!'
Bjorn didn't waste time asking questions. A lot of things become a shade urgent when you're dead.
'I believe in reincarnation,' he said.
I KNOW.
'I tried to live a good life. Does that help?'
THAT IS NOT UP TO ME. Death coughed. OF COURSE . . . SINCE YOU BELIEVE IN REINCARNATION . . . YOU'LL BE BJORN AGAIN.
He waited.
'Yes. That's right,' said Bjorn. Dwarfs are known for their sense of humour, in a way. People point them out and say: 'Those little devils haven't got a sense of humour.'
UM. WAS THERE ANYTHING AMUSING IN THE STATEMENT I JUST MADE?
'Uh. No. No . . . I don't think so.'
IT WAS A PUN, OR PLAY ON WORDS. BJORN AGAIN.
'Yes?'
DID YOU NOTICE IT?
'I can't say I did.'
OH.
'Sorry.'
I'VE BEEN TOLD I SHOULD TRY TO MAKE THE OCCASION A LITTLE MORE ENJOYABLE.
'Bjorn again.'
YES.
'I'll think about it?
THANK YOU.
'Hright,' said Sergeant .Colon, 'this, men, is your truncheon, also nomenclatured your night stick or baton of office.' He paused while he tried to remember his army days, and brightened up.
'Hand you will look after hit,' he shouted. 'You will eat with hit, you will sleep with hit, you—'
' 'Scuse me.'
'Who said that?'
'Down here. It's me, Lance-Constable Cuddy.'
'Yes, pilgrim?'