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Being Ymor’s right-hand man was like being gently flogged to death with scented bootlaces.
Twoflower was a tourist, the first ever seen on the Discworld. Tourist, Rincewind had decided, meant “idiot.”
He stared around the new room in which he found himself and met the terrified gaze of a young woman who dropped the tray she was holding and screamed. It sounded like the sort of scream that brings muscular help.
Let the magical box eat lobsters.
