Unseen Academicals (Discworld 37)

'Sorted! How?' Carter, always a bit overweight, had to scurry to keep up.

'Not going to tell you.' Oh, the joy of the moment.

'But can I tell him we're in the clear?'

'It's all sorted! Done and dusted! I blew it out. It's fixed. All gone away. It never happened.'

'Are you sure?' said Carter. 'He was pretty busted up.'

'Hey, what can I tell you?' Trev flung out his arms and twirled a pirouette. 'I'm Trev Likely!'

'Well, that's firm, then. Hey, I bet Andy'll let you back in the Posse now. That would be great, eh?'

'Do you know what Nutt thought the Posse was called, Carter?'

'No. What?'

Trev told him.

'Well, that's - ' Carter began, but Trev interrupted.

'It's funny, Carter. It's funny, and sort of sad and hopeless. It really is.' Trev stopped walking so abruptly that Carter collided with him. 'And here's a tip: Carter the Farter isn't gonna take you anywhere. And that goes for the Fartmeister, too. Trust me.'

'But everybody calls me Carter the Farter,' the Fartmeister wailed.

'Punch the next one who does. See a doctor. Cut down on carbohydrates. Keep out of confined spaces. Use aftershave,' said Trev, speeding up again.

'Where are you going, Trev?'

'I'm gettin' out of the Shove!' Trev called over his shoulder.

Carter looked around desperately. 'What Shove?'

'Haven't you heard? It's all Shove!'

Trev wondered if he glowed as he trotted through the fog. Things were going to be different. As soon as Smeems got in, he'd go and see him about a better job or something...

A figure appeared out of the mist ahead of him. This was something of an achievement since the figure was a head shorter than him.

'Mithter Likely?' it said.

'Who's askin'?' said Trev and added, 'What's askin'?'

The figure sighed. 'I underthtand that you are a friend of the gentleman rethently admitted to the hothpital,' it said.

'What's that to you?'

'Quite a lot,' said the figure. 'May I athk if you know very much about the gentleman?'

'I don't have to talk to you,' said Trev. 'Everything's been fixed, okay?'

'Would that thith wath the cathe,' said the figure. 'I have to talk to you. My name ith Igor.'

'You know, I had a feelin' about that. Are you the one who made the sandwich for Nutt?' asked Trev.

'Yeth. Tuna, thpaghetti and jam, with thprinkleth. My thignature dith. Do you know anything about hith background?'

'Not a thing, mister.'