[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Another Call for Moderators Edition

**Good morning! Here is a piece in the the style of the late Terry Pratchett. Enjoy and tell me what you think. And after much hemming and hawing, I finally have my own [ subreddit. ] ( http: //www.reddit.com/r/LovableCoward/ ) So... yeah? ** 
 
 -- 
 **Taking Holiday. ** 
 
 Stepping into Lord Vetinari's office was a terribly uncomfortable feeling, like climbing into a cramped carriage ride with a black hooded executioner. You tried to pretend that he was n't there, that you were sharing the carriage instead with a beautiful woman or three. But that soon falls apart when one remembers that charming women do n't constantly sharpen their ax with a whetstone the entire thirty hour journey. From the very back of the room came a voice. 
 
 `` Ah, Mr. von Lipwig! I see you got my invitation. Thank you for coming on such short notice. `` 
 
 Whilst certain wizards at the Unseen University would like to claim that nothing travels faster than the Speed of Light, they've obviously never seen someone summoned by the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork; the Speed of Fright if you will. 
 
 `` Y-y-yes I did, sir. I apologize if you need to speak with me.'' Lipwig had been practicing Vetinari noticed. Last time he called the former thief to his office he wavered like a reed in the wind. Now, he advanced to an excellent facsimile of a weeping willow tree. 
 
 `` Nonsense! So tell me Mr. von Lipwig, when's the last time you had a vacation?'' 
 
 The sound of Lipwig swallowing echoed around the chamber like a crossbow shot. ***Gulmpp! *** 
 
 `` A vacation, sir?'' 
 
 Vetinari smiled and rose from his chair. 
 
 `` Of course! What, is there an echo in here? You know, my good man, white sands, tropic beaches, water you swim in as opposed to stand on, coconuts with those cute little umbrellas in them... A real honest vacation.'' 
 
 Lipwig thought for a moment, his little hamster wheel of thought going slow as he forgot to feed the little rodent that morning. He drew a blank, and then drew another, and yet another and pretty soon he had enough to open up an art gallery of blanks. 
 
 `` Never, sir. I do n't believe I've ever had a *vay-cay-shun. *'' 
 
 Vetinari nodded and slammed his thin fingers onto the table, causing Lipwig to jump out of his boots, his socks and his skin. Thankfully, the patrician did not notice that little faux pas, pacing as he was while Lipwig adjusted his leg as a older dame might her garters. 
 
 `` Exactly! Furthermore, I do not believe any of the citizens of Ankh-Morpork have either. Perhaps what this city needs is a few weeks of rest and relaxation. But alas, we do not have any suitable coasts. In order to give the people a tropical vacation, we need land in the tropics. How could we gain such land?'' 
 
 `` Well, sir,'' Moist said matter-of-fact. `` There are the usual ways; you could start up a fruit company and then simply bride government officials into ceding their country to you. Or perhaps claim a large amount of whale oil off of their shores and move our army into there. As a pragmatist, I'd personally recruit and fund guerrillas to wage a war against the duly elected and legal government of the country in question, but that's just me.'' 
 
 The patrician waved all suggestions aside with good-natured smile. 
 
 `` No,'' Vetinari said. `` That will not be necessary. As it so happens, I am close friends with the Prime Minister of the Republic of Avocado.'' 
 
 `` A nation of lawyers? Gods help us, what a dreadful sounding place!'' Lipwig blurted out. 
 
 `` No, no, avocado, a tropical fruit. You know, like the mango.'' Vetinari corrected him. 
 
 `` Like the dance?'' 
 
 `` No, that's the tango.'' 
 
 `` Like the other dance?'' 
 
 `` No, that's the fandango. I am speaking of the mango, a tropical fruit. You know, like the avocado.'' 
 
 Something felt wrong to Lipwig just then, but he dismissed it as just a feeling, like the feeling you forgot to set the washing machine for warm water instead of hot. 
 
 `` Okay then, sir. But where do I come into all this?'' 
 
 `` I have a ship, I have a crew, but what I need is a hotel manager. Will you be that man?'' Vetinari asked. 
 
 Right then it felt like the fates were playing with Lipwig's life string, a curious and mournful song. And just a little off key. 
 
 `` Do I have a choice, Lord Vetinari?'' 
 
 `` Would it feel better if I said you did?'' 
 
 Lipwig shook his head honestly and said, `` No, not really.'' 
 
 `` Then you do n't. When you leave, my servant will give you a suitcase. In it is all you need to succeed. Your ship is the *Lowest Bidder* at Wharf 32. Good luck, gods speed and for gods sake try to enjoy yourself. Goodbye, Mr. von Lipwig.'' 
 
 For some dreadful reason that goodbye was said in the same manner a hangman would address his latest customer. 
 
 `` Permission to faint, sir?'' 
 
 `` Granted,'' Vetinari said nobly. `` But only once you have set sail.'' 
 
 Lipwig gulped, another round of echoes. 
 
 `` Yes, sir.''
