The Witch's Vacuum Cleaner: And Other Stories

by Terry Pratchett

  They had discovered Black William’s magic workshop. It was a high-ceilinged room, lit by a fire in a brass cauldron. Magic swords filled an umbrella stand. There were cupboards and cupboards crammed with jars of strange and wonderful ingredients – unicorn horns, dried beetles, shavings of camels’ toenails and cabbages.fn3 Magic circles and signs of the zodiac were painted on the walls, along with chalked cabbage recipes that the wizard must have done in a moment of absent-mindedness. There was a bookcase crammed with old leather books, and Mr Suttle whistled when he saw the titles.

  ‘This lot would be worth a fortune,’ he said.

  Apart from all that, the room was empty. The only sound was from the fire, when the coals settled.

  ‘Supposing the wizard comes back?’ said Chief Inspector Jethwa.

  ‘Well, he didn’t look a bad sort,’ said Mr Suttle. ‘I wouldn’t mind meeting him.’

  Suddenly there was a whoomph! and the wizard appeared in a cloud of yellow smoke, which rather lost its effect in Mr Suttle’s magical green light. Black William didn’t look very fearsome either. In fact, he looked very fed up. He was clutching the side of his face and moaning.

  ‘I say, what’s up, old chap?’ said Mr Suttle.

  The wizard just moaned. ‘For four hundred and fifty years, this tooth here hast given me more grief than a herd of rampaging boars!’

  ‘Good heavens! I believe he’s got toothache,’ said Mr Suttle.

  ‘By my tooth! I mean, by my troth!’ Black William exclaimed.

  ‘Poor old chap. Have you tried anything for it?’

  ‘All sorts of things,’ muttered Black William. ‘Toothwart, boiled beans in wine, and incantations by the light of the moon.’

  Chief Inspector Jethwa relaxed. A wizard with a toothache didn’t seem very terrifying.

  ‘Toothache for four hundred and fifty years! That can’t be much fun,’ said Mr Suttle.

  ‘Nay, sir. That’s why I magicked myself into nothingness.’

  ‘Well now, look here,’ said Chief Inspector Jethwa. ‘You could have gone to the dentist, after all!’

  Black William gave a little shriek.

  ‘Dentists in his day were a bit terrifying,’ Mr Suttle explained. ‘Pincers, you know. Painful.’

  Black William nodded violently.

  ‘Well, my dentist is Miss Hodgkins in Blackbury and I never feel a thing, what with these modern anaesthetics. But first Mr William here would have to turn everything back to the twenty-first century.’

  They explained to Black William that Miss Hodgkins was much better than the sort of tooth-blacksmiths of Elizabethan times. A sort of wizard for their age. And Black William agreed to remove his magic spell on the town as they travelled to see her.

  Getting Black William into Blackbury was a very odd experience. Things changed back as they rode past. Stones became road signs again, trees turned back into telegraph poles, and a big grim forest changed once more into Blackbury Industrial Estate. In the town things began working again, sometimes with odd results, since washing machines and things had been left switched on or pushed into a corner.fn4

  Miss Hodgkins’s surgery was rather dirty and full of pincers until Black William reversed the spell, when it suddenly became white and gleaming, with stainless-steel instruments in shiny trays. They explained to the dentist what had happened, and half an hour later Black William stepped from the chair with a lovely set of fillings.

  ‘’Tis a marvel!’ he said, and waved a hand in the air. There was a shower of gold coins, rubies and emeralds in payment.

  Then Black William vanished, with a smile on his face for the first time for over four centuries.

  ‘Gone back to four hundred and fifty years ago,’ said Mr Suttle. ‘There go all the bright clothes and songs.’

  ‘And the lack of hot water and medicine,’ said Chief Inspector Jethwa. ‘I can’t say I’m sorry to see him go. Life is quite exciting enough as it is. Do you think I should get a shovel and collect up all these coins and jewels?’

  ‘We could sell them, then spend the money to help clear up the mess,’ agreed Mr Suttle.

  ‘I wonder if he’ll be back?’ Chief Inspector Jethwa said as he looked around for a broom.

  Mr Suttle and Chief Inspector Jethwa never did see Black William again. But if you were ever to visit the Blackbury allotments in the thick of night, you might just sense a mysterious presence near Mr Suttle’s cabbage patch . . . and hear a ghostly but contented munching sound if you listen very carefully.

  THE FROZEN FEUD

  You probably remember the story I told you some time ago about Llandanffwnfafegettupagogo, the little border town in the Wild West of England, and how PC Bryn Bunyan – the fastest truncheon west of the River Severn – caught the bandit Big Dai Evans.

  Well, things were pretty quiet after that. But things never stay quiet for long in Wales.

  One day Police Sergeant Bunyan – he had been promoted – was on traffic duty in the High Street, when PC Gorsebush Jones came running up.

  ‘They’re at it again, Sergeant! Fighting outside the post office!’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this. Take over,’ said Bunyan, and leaping upon his bicycle he pedalled off furiously down the road.

  He turned the corner and frowned. On one side of the road was a large white ice-cream van with painted on the side in red letters.

  Right in front of it was another van, painted red and pink, belonging to . Both were chiming away, and between them three ice-cream men were fighting.

  ‘Hallo, ’allo, ’allo, what’s all this then, break it up, break it up,’ said Sergeant Bunyan. ‘I’ve told you before, any more of this and I’ll run you in for breaching the peace.’

  ‘This town ain’t big enough for two ice-cream men,’ said Mr Roof, aiming a blow at the others.

  ‘Git out by sundown or we’ll let your tyres down,’ said Dafydd Freezy, who with his brother Herbert ran the second van. In Llandanff they were known as the Mr Freezy Brothers.

  The trouble was that the town just could not keep both vans in business, and so every time they met there was usually a fight. Both said that they had been in business longest, and both thought the other was taking all the trade away.

  Sergeant Bunyan got them to get into their vans and drive off in different directions, but he knew that he was going to have trouble with them again.

  Next time they met they’d start throwing things, and Sergeant Bunyan wanted to keep the town safe from flying lollipops.

  He was having a quiet afternoon game of dominoes with Gorsebush Jones when Tommy Taten the grocer rushed into the police station. There was a cornet stuck to the back of his head, and strawberry ice cream was running down his neck. Police Dog Blodwen leaped up to do her duty and lick it all off him.

  Sergeant Bunyan picked up his truncheon, made sure his notebook was loaded, and said: ‘Where are they this time?’

  ‘Up-pupup at-tt-t Owen Kipp’s sheep d-d-d-dip,’ said Taten, his teeth chattering and sheepdog slobber now running down his neck.

  Gorsebush brought the bikes out of the yard, and the two policemen pedalled off, leaving Blodwen in charge of the police station.

  ‘I aim to clean up Llandanff,’ said Bunyan, ‘and that starts with ice cream on grocers.’

  Soon they reached a big sign which said:

  Everything was quiet. They put their bikes against the fence and crept up behind the water pump.

  ‘Can you see anything yet, Sarge?’

  ‘There’s a Freezy van over there, but it’s empty.’

  Suddenly a Freezy’s Iced Treat hit the pump above Gorsebush Jones’s head and shattered.

  ‘Dafydd Freezy’s up on the roof of Taten’s grocer’s!’

  The Freezy Brother was sitting on the roof with a big pile of ice creams by his side, and even as the policemen looked up he was taking aim with a Chocolate Family Block. But before he could throw it, a Roof’s Custard Delight hit him between the eyes.

  ‘Take that, you
varmint!’ Mr Roof was shouting, dancing across the road before skipping smartly out of the way of a fusillade of Choc ’n’ Nut cones thrown his way by Herbert Freezy.

  ‘Good shot, pardner!’ Dafydd Freezy called down, only to duck as Mr Roof retaliated with a well-aimed Lemon Drizzle Tub.

  ‘The Roof man is over behind the shed, Sarge,’ Gorsebush reported. It was obvious to him that the Freezy Brothers had Mr Roof cornered.

  But Mr Roof was fighting back. He suddenly rushed out, a handful of cornets in each hand.

  ‘Ahoy, all of you! Enough of this!’ shouted PC Gorsebush, but an iced lolly knocked his helmet off.

  Quick as a flash, he grabbed the lolly and hurled it back up at Dafydd Freezy.

  Soon the battle was in full swing again, and Sergeant Bunyan dashed over to the open Freezy van and came back with armfuls of Family Bricks.

  As soon as the three ice-cream men saw what he had done they left their hiding places and came walking across the yard, ice creams in either hand.

  The two policemen faced them.

  ‘I’m taking you in for breach of the peace, obstruction and assaulting a police officer,’ said Sergeant Bunyan.

  ‘Hold it right there. Move your hands reeeaaal slooow,’ Gorsebush drawled, lolly in his hand.

  ‘Go for your ice cream!’ replied Herbert Freezy.

  Splat! Splat! Fast on the draw, faster than a speeding bullet, in one movement PC Jones hurled two Family Bricks, just as the Freezy Brothers were preparing to throw. The Bricks knocked both of them to the floor. A well-slung Raspberry Surprise from Mr Roof nearly caught him on the ear, but Sergeant Bunyan ran forward and dropped a cold lolly down the front of Mr Roof’s trousers and the ice-cream vendor sank to his knees, his face going a very funny colour.

  Using a special judo hold he had been taught at Blackbury Police College, Sergeant Bunyan then marched his three prisoners to one of the vans, and he and PC Jones drove back into Llandanff.

  ‘There’s been altogether too much of this sort of thing,’ said the Chairman of the Magistrates next day. ‘I intend to make an example of you three. But Sergeant Bunyan had a suggestion to make, and if you do what he proposes and behave yourselves we’ll say no more about this.’

  So the very sorry ice-cream men went out and were made to paint their vans the same colours — red, white and blue. On both of them were painted the words:

  LLANDANFF AND DISTRICT ICE CREAMS.

  Herbert Freezy drove one, Mr Roof drove the other, and Dafydd Freezy kept the books.

  They made much more money because they weren’t fighting, and it was peaceful in Llandanff once again — all thanks to Sergeant Bunyan and PC Jones.

  DARBY AND THE SUBMARINE

  The pond was in the middle of a wood, surrounded by thickets of bramble and weeds. A small stream tumbled over a waterfall from it, and trickled away through the fields into the big river. It was a peaceful sort of place; no one ever came there.

  On one bank, all twisted and gnarly with its roots sticking out in the brown water, was an old willow tree. There were holes between its roots that you may think were made by water rats, until you saw the little boats half hidden in the shadows. There was a landing stage made out of splinters, about as long as your little finger, and even wicker pots for catching caddis-fly larvae and fine nets hung up to dry.

  On this particular day Darby was right out in the middle of the pond, rowing himself along in his walnut-shell boat and whistling. The other people who lived beneath the willow dared not to go out as far, but here the duckweed grew thickly and the tadpoles swam in shoals. Tadpole didn’t taste very nice, but eating them was good for you.

  ‘Quack!’ went a duck, landing right by the boat and giving him a deeply menacing look.

  Darby looked round, gulped, and dived for his life.

  That was a long swim back to the willow! He only dared to come up for air when he was in some weeds, and all the time he could see the duck’s feet paddling through the water above him.

  He finally crawled onto the landing stage, dripping wet, and the people clustered around. There were all sorts: mothers, babies, granddads, uncles – all about a centimetre tall.

  ‘It’s the duck again,’ gasped Darby. ‘Nearly got me that time!’

  ‘That means all our food will be scared away,’ said Han the chieftain. ‘Or eaten. Us too.’

  The professor stepped forward, stroking his long white beard. ‘I think this is the time to try our anti-duck device,’ he said.

  So the people ran down the long tunnels inside the willow until they came to a cavern. It was a hollow place inside the roots, and from it a narrow passage went out to the water.

  A tiny submarine was tied to the wall. The professor opened the hatch and clambered inside, followed by Darby and the chieftain. Then they closed the hatch and opened the valves, and the submarine glided down into the dark water.

  It came out from the roots into a fairyland of golden light, as the sunlight shimmered down through the brown water and shone from every sunken stone. The submarine was made out of a whole big walnut, and powered by an elastic band. It had taken Darby and the professor years to build it, but it was a fine craft – it even had a working periscope and, instead of torpedoes, a long hawthorn spike fitted to its prow.

  Slowly it drifted through the water, leaving a little trail of bubbles. Darby was looking through the periscope.

  Then he saw the duck, which from underneath looked like a fat boat with legs.

  ‘Duck ahead!’ he cried. ‘Stand by the ram! Full elastic!’

  Han pulled back a lever and the submarine gathered speed.

  The nasty duck didn’t know what hit it. The tiny submarine shot up and rammed it amidships, and the bird whizzed out of the water with a quack. Back at the willow-tree landing stage all the people cheered.

  Again the submarine headed for the duck. But it had had enough. Before the craft reached it, it was flying away over the reeds. It never came back. Not surprising, really.

  In the walnut-shell sub, the professor, Han and Darby were so busy cheering and patting one another on the back that they didn’t notice that the elastic-band motor had completely unwound itself. But the people on the shore did.

  They were heading for the waterfall!

  ‘Hey!’ said Han. ‘We seem to still be moving.’

  ‘Right-ho, Professor, reverse engines,’ said Darby, grasping the steering wheel.

  ‘I can’t! The elastic would have to be wound up again!’

  Darby could hear a far-off roaring. ‘Dive! It’s our only chance!’

  The professor grabbed the little hand-pump that worked the ballast tanks.

  He was too late! The waterfall wasn’t very big – just a trickle of water over some stones – but for people only a centimetre high, it was quite big enough. It led into a little stream. The sub shot over the falls, spun round rapidly in a whirlpool, rolled over twice, and plopped into the water. Then it began to drift with the current.

  ‘I think I’m going to be very sick,’ said the professor. He rolled under a bunk.

  Han was clinging to the periscope column while Darby struggled with the wheel. ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Wind up the motor instead.’

  ‘We’ll never make any headway against this current,’ muttered Han.

  To the people back on the landing stage it looked like they were sailing towards unknown lands. In truth, the submarine was drifting between giant hawthorn trees, where mysterious creepers of old man’s beard hung down as far as the water. Strange birds were singing in the trees.

  The stream was higher than usual, and bits of driftwood and dead leaves were floating in it. In the middle of all this the tiny submarine spun slowly to the surface.

  The hatch opened, and the professor and Darby climbed out. On all sides there was nothing but water, and the waterfall was a long way behind them.

  ‘Well, what are we going to do—’ And as he said that, the professor slipped, and fell into the water with a
plop.

  ‘All right, all right, don’t panic,’ said Darby, and he dived in to pull him out – the old man couldn’t swim very well, and he was already blowing bubbles.

  As Darby surfaced and looked around he heard Han calling. The chieftain was jumping up and down and shouting at the top of his voice. ‘Stickleback! Look out behind you! Stickleback!’

  Darby turned, and could see a fin shooting through the water towards him. It was a spiny stickleback – the most feared fish in the stream!

  Quickly he pushed the half-drowned professor onto a floating twig, and dived down. Underwater the light was yellow and dim, and he could hear a rushing noise in his ears. He put his knife of tough bramble-thorn between his teeth and looked about him for the stickleback.

  It came rushing at him with its fearsome jaws open, and he ducked just in time. Then it turned for another attack, and Darby plunged his thorn-knife into its belly. It was a bitter struggle, and the water turned red with stickleback blood, as the fish thrashed around trying to get Darby between its long teeth. He felt as though his head would burst: it was such a long time since he had taken a breath.

  Up on the surface Han pulled the professor onto the submarine and watched the churning water anxiously. Just when he was about to give up Darby clambered aboard.

  ‘Quick! Wind up the motor, there might be more of them about!’

  The submarine went on down the stream. It had portholes, and the adventurers looked through at a strange underwater world.

  Tadpoles and water beetles swam up and peered in at them, and the three adventurers had their lunch while the creatures swam around the sub.