Category: moist

Regular

“You’ll know where to hire men with ropes, steeplejacks, that sort of thing? I want those letters back on our building by midday, okay?”
“That’ll cost a lot of money, Mr. Lipwig,” said Groat, staring at him in amazement. Moist pulled a bag out of his pocket and jingled it.
“One hundred dollars should more than cover it,” he said. Mr. Hugo was very apologetic and very, very inclined to be helpful. Says he bought them years ago off a man in a pub and is only too happy to pay for them to be returned. It’s amazing how nice people can be, if approached in the right way.”
There was a clang from the other side of the street. Mr. Pump had already removed the H, without any apparent effort.
Speak softly and employ a huge man with a crowbar, thought Moist. This might be bearable after all.

– on effective management techniques |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“I’m the new postmaster.”
“No kidding?” said Miss Dearheart. “Then I’m glad you’ve got Pump 19 with you. The last few postmasters didn’t last long, I gather.”
“I think I heard something about that,” said Moist cheerfully. “It sounds as though things were pretty bad in the olden days.”
Miss Dearheart’s brow wrinkled. “Olden days?” she said. “Last month was olden days?”

– whoops |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“Anyway… how can I help you, Mr…?”
“Von Lipwig,” said Moist, and added, “Moist von Lipwig,” to get the worst over woth. But the woman didn’t even smile.
“Lipwig, small town in Near Uberwald,” she said, picking up a brick from the broken glass and debris on her desk, regarding it critically, and then turning to the ancient filing cabinet behind her and filing it under B. “Chief export: its famous dogs, of course. Second most important export: its beer, except during the two weeks of Sektoberfest, when it exports… secondhand beer, probably?”
“I don’t know, we left when I was a kid,” said Moist. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s just a funny name.”
“Try Adora Belle Dearheart sometime,” said the woman.
“Ah. That’s not a funny name,” said Moist.
“Quite,” said Adora Belle Dearheart. “I now have no sense of humor whatsoever.”

– Have you met Corporal Littlebottom |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

The window was boarded over, but just visible behind the graffiti above it were the words THE GOLEM TRUST.
Moist pushed open the door. Glass crunched under his feet.
A voice said, “Hands where I can see them, mister!”
He raised his hands cautiously, while peering into the gloom. There was definitely a crossbow being wielded by a dim figure. Such light as had managed to get around the boards glinted off the tip of the bolt.
“Oh,” said the voice in the dark, as if mildly annoyed that there was no excuse to shoot anybody. “All right, then.”

– on disappointment |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

Still, it was… odd to think of all those letters heaped in that old building. You could imagine them as little packets of history. Deliver them, and history went one way. But if you dropped them in the gap between the floorboards, it went the other.
Ha. He shook his head. As if one tiny choice by someone unimportant could make that much difference! History had to be a bit tougher than that. It all sprang back eventually, didn’t it? He was sure he’ dread something about that, somewhere. If it wasn’t like that, no one would ever dare do anything.
He stood in the little square where eight roads met, and chose to go home via Market Street. It was as good a way as any other.

– on choices, according to Moist |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

Dave, after looking around conspiratorially, pulled a small black box off a shelf and flipped it open under Moist’s nose.
“not something you find every day, eh?” said Dave.
Gosh, it’s a pin, thought Moist, but said “Wow!” in a tone of well-crafted genuine surprise.

– on taking an interest |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

The door clicked shut as the last of the customers, sated enough on pins for the one day, stepped out. Dave watched them go and then turned his attention back to Moist.
“A bit of a connoisseur, are we, sir?” he said, winking.
“A serious student,” said Moist. “Most of the stuff here, well…”
“I don’t touch nails,” said Dave sharply. “Won’t have ‘em in the shop! I’ve got a reputation to think about! Little kids come in here, you know!”
“Oh no! Strictly pins, that’s me!” said Mosit hastily.
“Good,” said Dave, relaxing.

– on keeping it tasteful |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“So then… it’s still Total Pins for you, is it?” he added, as if giving a fool one last chance to repent his folly.
“Yes,” said Moist. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.” Dave scratched his stomach thoughtfully. “It’s just that the editor is a bit… a bit…”
“A bit what?” said Moist.
“Well, we think he’s a bit weird about pins, to tell you the truth.”
Moist looked around the shop.
“Really?” he said.

– on being weird about pins |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

It was a wonderful world, the world of pins. It was a hobby that could last you a lifetime. Moist knew this because he expended one dollar on Pins by J. Lanugo Owlsbury, apparently the last word on the subject. Everyone had their funny little ways, Moist conceded, but he wasn’t entirely at home among people who, if they saw a pinup, would pay attention to the pins.

– on the world of pins |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“Right!” said Moist, and strode off, at least for one stride, and then yelped.
“Be Careful Of Your Ankle, Mr. Lipwig,” said Mr. Pump.

– he’s helping |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal