Well, it does now.
Somewhere underneath Ankh-Morpork a rat went about its business, ambling unconcernedly through the ruins of a damp cellar. It turned a corner towards the grain store it knew was up ahead, and almost walked into another rat.
This one was standing on its hind-legs, though, and wearing a tiny black robe and carrying a scythe. Such of its snout that could be seen was bone-white.
SQUEAK? it said.
Then the vision faded and revealed a slightly smaller figure. There was nothing in the least rat-like about it, apart from its size. It was human, or at least humanoid. It was dressed in ratskin trousers but was bare above the waist, apart from two bandoliers that criss-crossed its chest. And it was smoking a tiny cigar.
It raised a very small crossbow and fired.
The soul of the rat - for anything so similar in so many ways to human beings certainly has a soul -watched gloomily as the figure took its recent habitation by the tail and towed it away. Then it looked up at the Death of Rats.
'Squeak?' it said.
The Grim Squeaker nodded.
SQUEAK.
A minute later Wee Mad Arthur emerged into the daylight, dragging the rat behind him. There were fifty-seven neatly lined up along the wall, but despite his name Wee Mad Arthur made a point of not killing the young and the pregnant females. It's always a good idea to make sure you've got a job tomorrow.
His sign was still tacked up over the hole. Wee Mad Arthur, as the only insect and vermin exterminator able to meet the enemy on its own terms, found that it paid to advertise.
div style='border:solid windowtext .5pt;padding:1.0pt 4.0pt 1.0pt 4.0pt'
'WEE MAD' ARTHUR
For those little things that get you down
Rats *FREE*
Mise: 1p per ten tails
Moles: 1/2p each
Warsps: 50p per nest. Hornets 20p extra
Cockroaches and similar by aranjement.
Small Fees - BIG JOBS
/div
Arthur took out the world's smallest notebook and a piece of pencil lead. See here, now... fifty-eight skins at two a penny, City bounty for the tails at a penny per ten, and the carcases to Gimlet at tuppence per three, the hard-driving dwarf bastard that he was...
There was a moment's shadow, and then someone stamped on him.
'Right,' said the owner of the boot. 'Still catching rats without a Guild card, are you? Easiest ten dollars we ever earned, Sid. Let's go and - '
The man was lifted several inches off the ground, whirled around, and hurled against the wall. His companion stared as a streak of dust raced across his boot, but reacted too late.
'He's gone up me trouser! He's gone up me ¨Carrgh!'
There was a crack.
'Me knee! Me knee! He's broken me knee!'
The man who had been flung aside tried to get up, but something scurried across his chest and landed astride his nose.