Thomas Kinkade End of a Perfect DayThomas Kinkade Beacon of hopeThomas Kinkade The Sea Of Tranquility
gods of the Discworld live.
At the least, any god who is anybody. And it is strange that, although it takes years of effort and work and scheming for a god to get there, once there they never seem to do a lot apart from drink too much and indulge in a little mild corruption. Many "Right," he said.
Io, God of Thunder, looked up from his throne and waved his hammer threateningly.
"Who are you?"
Om strode toward the throne, picked up to by his toga, and gave a quick jab with his forehead.systems of government follow the same broad lines.They play games. They tend to be very simple games, because gods are easily bored by complicated things. It is strange that, while small gods can have one aim in mind for millions of years, are in fact one aim, large gods seem to have the attention span of the common mosquito.And style? If the gods of the Discworld were people they would think that three plaster ducks is a bit avant-garde.There was a double door at the end of the main hall.It rocked to a thunderous knocking.The gods looked up vaguely from their various preoccupations, shrugged and turned away.The doors burst inward.Om strode through the debris, looking around with the air of one who has a search to complete and not a lot of time to do it in.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment