Hogfather

     'My goodness...'

     The Bursar pulled off the last of the wrapping paper.

     'It's a box for keeping dried frog pills in. See? It's got "Dried  Frog Pills" on it, see?'

     The Bursar shook  it. 'Oh, how  nice,'  he said  weakly. 'It's got some pills in it already. How thoughtful. They will come in handy.'

     'Yes,' said the Dean. 'I took them off your dressing table.  After all, I was down a dollar as it was.'

     The  Bursar nodded gratefully and put the little box  neatly beside his plate. They'd  actually allowed him knives  this  evening.  They'd  actually allowed him to eat other things than those things that could only be scraped up with a wooden spoon.

     He eyed the nearest roast pig with nervous anticipation, and tucked his napkin firmly under his chin.

     'Er, excuse me, Mr Stibbons,' he quavered. 'Would  you be so good as to pass me the apple sauce tankard-'

     There was a  sound like coarse fabric ripping, somewhere in the air  in front of the  Bursar, and  a crash as something landed on  top of the  roast pig. Roast potatoes and gravy filled the air. The apple that had been in the pig's mouth was violently expelled and hit the Bursar on the forehead.

     He blinked, looked down, and found he was about to plunge his fork into a human head.

     'Ahaha,' he murmured, as his eyes started to glaze.

     The wizards heaved aside the overturned dishes and smashed crockery.

     'He just fell out of the air!'

     'Is he an Assassin? Not one of their student pranks, is it?'

     'Why's he holding a sword without a sharp bit?'

     'Is he dead?'

     'I think so!'

     'I didn't even have any of that salmon mousse! Will you look at it? His foot's in it! It's all over the place! Do you want yours?'

     Ponder  Stibbons  fought  his way through the throng. He knew his  more senior fellows when they  were feeling  helpful. They were  like a  glass of water to a drowning man.

     'Give him air!' he protested.

     'How do we know if he needs any?' said the Dean.

     Ponder put his ear to the fallen youth's chest.

     'He's not breathing!'

     'Breathing spell,  breathing spell,' muttered the  Chair of  Indefinite Studies. 'Er... SpoIt's Forthright Respirator, perhaps? I think  I've got it written down somewhere...'

     Ridcully reached through the wizards and pulled out the  black-clad man by a leg. He held him upside down in his big hand and thumped him heavily on the back.

     He  met  their astonished gaze. 'Used to do this on the farm,' he said. 'Works a treat on baby goats.'

     'Oh, now, really,' said the Dean, 'I don't...'

     The corpse made a noise somewhere between a choke and a cough.

     'Make  some space, you fellows!' the  Archchancellor bellowed, clearing an area of table with one sweep of his spare arm.

     'Hey,  I hadn't  had  any of that Prawn Escoffe!'  said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.

     'I didn't even know we had any,'  said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. 'Someone, and I name no names, Dean, shoved it behind the soft-shelled crabs so they could keep it for themselves. I call that cheap.'

     Teatime  opened  his eyes. It said a  lot for  his constitution that it survived a very close-up view of Ridcully's nose, which filled the immediate universe like a big pink planet.

     'Excuse me, excuse me,'  said Ponder, leaning over  with  his  notebook open,  'but  this  is  vitally  important for  the  advancement  of  natural philosophy.  Did you see any bright lights? Was there a shining  tunnel? Did any  deceased relatives attempt  to speak to  you? What word  most describes the...'

     Ridcully pulled him away.

     'What's all this, Mr Stibbons?'

     'I really should talk to him, sir. He's had a near-death experience!'

     'We all have. It's called  "living",' said  the Archchancellor shortly. 'Pour the poor lad a glass of spirits and put that damn pencil away.

     'Uh... This must be Unseen University?' said  Teatime. 'And you are all wizards?'

     'Now, just you lie still,' said Ridcully. But Teatime had already risen on his elbows.

     'There was a sword,' he muttered.

     'Oh, it's fallen on the floor,'  said  the Dean, reaching down. 'But it looks as though it's- Did I do that?'

     The  wizards looked at  the  large curved slice  of table falling away. Something had cut through everything wood, cloth, plates, cutlery, food. The Dean swore that a candle flame that had been in the path of the unseen blade was only half a flame for a moment, until the wick realized that this was no way to behave.

     The Dean raised his hand. The other wizards scattered.

     'Looks like a thin blue line in the air,' he said, wonderingly.

     'Excuse me, sir,' said Teatime, taking  it from  him. 'I really must be off.'

     He ran from the hall.

     'He won't get far,' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. 'The main  doors are locked in accordance with Archchancellor Spode's Rules.'

     'Won't  get far while holding a  sword  that appears to be  able to cut through anything,' said Ridcully, to the sound of falling wood.

     'I  wonder  what  all that was  about?' said  the Chair  of  Indefinite Studies, and then turned his attention to the remains of the Feast. 'Anyway, at least this joint's been nicely carved

     'Bu-bu-bu...'