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fluorescent greenish yellow purple).
I used to play bass for... Fluorescent Bruise and the Octarine.
No, what he didn’t like about heroes was that they were usually suicidally gloomy when sober and homicidally insane when drunk. There were too many of them, too.
A prolonged session at the Whore Pits produced a number of colorful and instructive pictures, a number of which Rincewind concealed about his person for detailed perusal in private.
It was a backward memory of an event in his future so terrifying that it had generated harmonics of fear all the way along his lifeline). This was not that event, but it was good practice for it.
A perfectly ordinary if somewhat large wooden chest does not, of course, have a face with which to face, but this one was quite definitely facing. In precisely the same way as he understood that, the Arch-astronomer was also horribly aware that this perfectly normal box was in some indescribable way narrowing its eyes.
The Luggage had an elemental nature, absolutely no brain, a homicidal attitude toward anything that threatened its master, and he wasn’t quite sure that its inside occupied the same space-time framework as its outside.
