Hogfather

Susan:
[to Teatime] You were the kind of kid who couldn't see the difference between throwing rocks at a cat and setting it on fire.

Teatime:
It's pronounced Teh-ah-tim-eh, sir.

Death:
You might very well think that I'd already thought of that, but I couldn't possibly comment.

Susan:
Grandad?

Death:
Yes?

Susan:
Why? I mean, why did you do all this?

Death:
Human beings make life so interesting. Do you know that in a universe so full of wonders, they have managed to invent boredom? Life is such.

Susan:
Now... tell me...

Death:
What would have happened if you hadn't saved him?

Susan:
Yes.

Death:
The sun would not have risen.

Susan:
Then what would have happened?

Death:
A mere ball of flaming gas would have illuminated the world.

Susan:
All right, I'm not stupid. You're saying that humans need fantasies to make life bearable.

Death:
No. Humans need fantasy to be human. To be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape.

Susan:
With tooth fairies? Hogfathers?

Death:
Yes. As practice, you have to start out learning to believe the little lies.

Susan:
So we can believe the big ones?

Death:
Yes. Justice, mercy, duty. That sort of thing.

Susan:
They're not the same at all!

Death:
You think so? Then take the universe and grind it down to the finest powder and sieve it through the finest sieve and THEN show me one atom of justice, one molecule of mercy. And yet... you try to act as if there is some ideal order in the world. As if there is some... some rightness in the universe by which it may be judged.

Susan:
But people have got to believe that, or what's the point?

Death:
You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they become?

[they both watch the sun rise]

Susan:
[hits Teatime] Hello inner child, I'm the inner babysitter!

[Susan is reading the fairy tale "Jack and the Beanstalk" to the children]

Susan:
And then Jack chopped down what was the world's last beanstalk, adding murder and ecological terrorism to the theft, enticement and trespass charges already mentioned, and all the giant's children didn't have a daddy any more. But he got away with it and lived happily ever after without so much as a guilty twinge about what he had done. Which proves that you can be excused just about anything if you're a hero, because no-one asks inconvenient questions.

Susan:
You were the kind of little boy who looked up doll's dresses.

Teatime:
...I didn't...!

Teatime:
Do you have a lot of friends, Mr Sydeney?

Mr. Sideney:
[hesitantly] Quite a few, actually.

Teatime:
I don't have many... Don't seem to have the knack... On the other hand, I don't seem to have any enemies at all.

Death:
[half-heartedly] Ho, ho, ho.

Albert:
No, no, no! You've got put a bit more life in it, sir... Er, no offence intended. You've got to do a big fat laugh, sir. You've got to sound like you're pissing brandy and you're crapping plum pudding, sir... if you'll pardon my Klatchian.

Teatime:
Exhibit B is Banjo. He can talk.

Death:
Let's go sleigh them!

[looks at Albert]

Death:
I don't know if you noticed Albert, but that was a pune, or play on words.

Albert:
Ho ho ho sir.

Lord Downey:
Mr Teatime, you have actually applied yourself to study of ways of killing Death?

Teatime:
Only as a hobby, sir.

Lord Downey:
But then some people might say that he is technically immortal.

Teatime:
Everyone has a weak point, sir.

[Teatime's spirit rises from his body to meet Death]

Death:
Mr Teh-ah-tim-eh?

Teatime:
You got it right.

Death:
Of course.

[first lines]

Narrator:
Everything starts somewhere, although many physicists disagree. There is the constant desire to find out where - where is the point where it all began. But much, much later than that, the Discworld was formed. Drifting onwards through space, atop four elephants on the shell of a giant turtle, the Great A'Tuin. It was some time after its creation when most people forgot that the very oldest stories of the beginning are, sooner or later, about blood. At least, that's one theory. The philosopher Didactylos suggested an alternative hypothesis: "Things just happen. What the hell." And so our story begins in Ankh-Morpork, the twin city of proud Ankh and pestilent Morpork, the biggest city in Discworld. A city where magic is just another job, and where the Tower of Art of the Unseen University for Wizards looms over all the dark narrow streets... Our story begins on a midwinter festival bearing a remarkable similarity to your Christmas. And so... it was the night before Hogswatch.

[Lord Downey is sitting at his desk when he hears a strange noise and realises that he is no longer alone]

Lord Downey:
The doors are locked. The windows are barred. The dog does not appear to have woken up. The squeaky floorboards haven't. I really doubt that you are a ghost, and gods generally do not announce themselves so politely. You could, of course, be Death, but I don't believe he bothers with such niceties. Besides, I'm feeling quite well.

[the Auditors have just commissioned Lord Downey, Master of the Guild of Assassins, to "inhume" the Hogfather]

Lord Downey:
He would be difficult to find.

Auditor 1:
You will find persons on any street who can tell you his approximate address.

Lord Downey:
Yes, of course, but as you say, they can hardly give a map reference. Even then, how would the... Fat Man be inhumed? A glass of poisoned sherry, perhaps?

Auditor 1:
You misunderstand the nature of employment.

Lord Downey:
How do I misunderstand you exactly?

Auditor 1:
We pay. You find the ways and means.

Lord Downey:
How can I contact you?

Auditor 1:
[ominously] We will contact you. We know where you are. We know where *everyone* is.

[Lord Downey is reviewing a previous assassination contract that Teatime carried out for him]

Lord Downey:
You nailed Sir George's dog to the ceiling.

Teatime:
I couldn't have it barking while I was working, sir.

Lord Downey:
Some people would have drugged it.

Teatime:
[mystified] Oh! But I definitely fulfilled the contract. I checked Sir George's breathing with a mirror, as instructed.

Lord Downey:
Apparently his head was several feet from his body at that point.

Teatime:
That was all right, wasn't it, sir?

Lord Downey:
It lacked... elegance.

Teatime:
I thank you, sir. I'm always happy to be corrected. I shall remember that... next time.

[Twyla thinks she has heard a strange noise from the cellar and asks Susan to investigate. Susan goes into the cellar brandishing a poker, while Twyla and her parents watch from outside the door. Banging noises are heard]

Twyla:
[proudly] You don't have to worry. She always wins.

[Susan emerges with a bent poker]

Twyla:
Susan says "Don't get afraid - get angry".

[Twyla hears a bogeyman under her bed. Susan bashes it with a poker and hauls it out from under the bed]

Twyla:
Do The Voice on it.

Slimazel the Bogeyman:
No! Not The Voice.

Twyla:
Hit it on the head with a poker.

Slimazel the Bogeyman:
Not the poker.

Susan:
This is a friendly warning. Understand? Because it's Hogswatch.

Slimazel the Bogeyman:
What are you? A witch or something?

Susan:
I'm just... something. Now you won't be around here again, will you? Or we'll put your head under the blanket. It's got fluffy bunnies on it.

Slimazel the Bogeyman:
Fluffy bunnies. No!

Susan:
[sternly] Go away and stop bothering me.

Twyla:
That wasn't as much fun as the one last month. You know, the one when you kicked him in the trousers.

Albert:
Never say die, master. That's our motto.

Death:
[grimly] I can't say it's ever really been mine.

Susan:
I don't remember them asking for anything that makes a noise.

Death:
Oh, there has to be something in the stocking that makes a noise. Otherwise, what is 4:30AM for?

Auditor 1:
We have no sense of humor.

[Death is able to stop a little match girl from dying]

Albert:
You're not allowed to do that.

Death:
The Hogfather can. The Hogfather gives presents. There's no better present than a future.

[Death confronts the Auditors, who have taken the shape of dogs to get to Susan and the Hogfather]

Death:
You couldn't resist it in the end? A mistake, I fancy. It gets under your skin, life. Speaking metaphorically, of course. And you see, the more you struggle for every moment, the more alive you stay... which is where I come in, as a matter of fact.

Auditor 1:
[changes to its original shape] You can't do this, there are rules!

[gets turned back into a dog]

Death:
Yes. There are rules. But you broke them. How dare you? HOW DARE YOU? And now there remains only one final question. Have you been naughty... or nice?

[the dogs plunge down a cliff]

Death:
Ho. Ho. Ho.

Death:
[reads a list] The boy wants a pair of trousers that he doesn't have to share, a huge meat pie, a sugar mouse, "a lot of toys" and a puppy named Scruff.

Albert:
Ah, how sweet. I shall wipe away a tear, 'cause what he's getting, see, is this wooden toy and an apple.

Death:
But the letter clearly...

Albert:
I know. It's the socio-economic factors. The world would be in a hell of a mess, eh, if everyone got what they asked for.

Death:
I gave them what they wanted in the store...

Albert:
Yeah, well, what good is a god that gives you everything you want?

Death:
You have me there.

Albert:
It's the HOPE that's important. It's a big part of belief. I mean to say, you give people jam today and they'll just sit and eat it. But jam tomorrow, now... that'll keep them going for ever.

Death:
And you mean that because of this the poor get poor things and the rich get rich things?

Albert:
Well, yes. That's the meaning of Hogswatch, isn't it, Master?

Death:
But I'm the Hogfather! At the moment, I mean.

Death:
I have made this for you. [hands Susan a damp cardboard square]

Susan:
Oh, thank you. What is it?

Death:
Albert said there ought to be snow on it, but it appears to have melted. It is, of course, a Hogswatch card.

Susan:
Oh.

Death:
There should have been a robin on it as well, but I had considerable difficulty in getting it to stay on.

Susan:
Ah.

Death:
It was not at all cooperative.

Susan:
Really?

Death:
It did not seem to get into the Hogswatch spirit at all.

Susan:
Grandad? Happy Hogswatch.

Death:
Happy Hogswatch. And good night, children... everywhere.

Susan:
His name's Bilious. He's the "Oh God" of hangovers. Something nasty's happening tonight. I'm hoping he can tell me what it is, but he's got to be able to think straight first.

Mustrum Ridcully:
And you brought him here?

Death:
[Death, standing in for the Hogfather, has come down a narrow chimney and is trapped inside a cast-iron stove] This is really, really stupid.

Susan:
Would you be any good in a fight?

Bilious:
Yes, I could be sick on people.

Teatime:
I'd rather you didn't try any last-minute stuff.

Death:
I AM last-minute stuff.