D'oh!

Well, none of us likes to die, and hear the short and amusing solliloquy of, you know, the one THAT SPEAKS LIKE THIS... Yet it happens. There are so many funny ways to die... but a Lag attack isn't one of them...

Winswand promised himself a happy harvesting day through the stinky streets of the Great Wahoonie. While roaming the middle of Short Street, an appetizing group of a merchant and three (human) bodyguards caught his eye.

Sweet and easy cake, thought the wizard. I won't even have to spend always scarce candles or carrots. A few eyes at the most. A little dance and Pragi's Fiery Gaze was let loose. Then, disaster struck.

After reconnecting (and resurrecting, and cursing), Winswand remembered having buried the LAG's cured head, which until recently he kept at a vault for kicking around and for a possible casting of Myrandil's mask of death, a toy spell he was very fond of. It gives bad luck to treat him reasonably, he thought.

So, while musing plans for revenge (and suffering from that post-death trauma and the lazyness of having to go to Pishe's for a new life and to the Library for re-remembering each and every spell), Winswand decided to drown his miseries in cheap wine and the best lamb curry you can find in Ankh-Morpork.

(Incidentally, the lamb wasn't lamb and the wine wasn't cheap. Well, when things start turning wrong, they forget to change the direction from time to time...)