"Well, the dashed fool has barricaded himself into the Library. Now technically, that's taking a hostage and theft isn't it?"
Vimes sighed and resigned himself to the fact that it was going to be a good hour before he got back to attend the matter of Carrot.

*****

In a field next to the road towards Lancre, a werewolf shape morphed into a human one, and a beautiful young woman, naked except for her flea bites, shook with tears.
The fleas hopped madly at their sudden change in environment, some bit savagely at the strange, yet tender pink skin, while others carried signs like, "The end of the world is rear1!" and " Ban the powder". The fleas were restless. Angua wiped the tears away from her face and made a mental note: " note to self, when leaving in a huff always head to a spot where you can get clothes." She surveyed the surrounding area, "well early enough that no one should be around to see me out here," the words travelled over the open field hugging the contours like a thing that hugs contours. Taking a few steps she began to relax, the fleas did not! Yelping Angua raked at her hair, pulling the mass into a tangled mess, " I must look awful," she said to the open air. "Not from 'ere, ma am." Came the reply.

*****

" Now, now Mr. Librarian," Vimes felt a little pang of embarrassment, as he lay on the floor of the hallway speaking through the crack under the library door " you don't want to be missing your breakfast, now, would you?". "The best Ankh-Morpork has to offer?" Ridcully was admiring the latest hostage negotiating procedures being employed by Vimes. A procedure is defined "a series of steps followed in a regular definite order" technically this was more a hostage negotiation improvisation. There was a low mumble from the mass of wizards that had migrated en-mass from arguing about the presence of the watch at the university to helpful hints on how to negotiate with a distressed orang-utan. "Stick yer finger in the 'ole 'n' wiggle it around a bit" announced one from the back of the pack " 'ell think it a banana". Vimes wishing to keep his fingers where there were, on his hands, ignored that little tid-bit of information.

*****

Back in his room, Carrot finished off a letter to his parents, it was very short as he couldn't think about anything but Angua. The strain of the past few days hit like an iron boot in the buttocks2, he madly brought his fist down on his desk, which broke in two, then swore under his breath as his hand began to swell.

*****

Well, do any of you have a real banana?" exclaimed Vimes. The wizards shifted uneasily,
"Well... we only use those in desperate circumstances....we don't have a great supply, and it's not as if they come under the University funds." said the Lecturer in Recent Runes awkwardly.
"These are desperate circumstances from where I'm...er...lying! Get me a banana man!!

*****

"What?!" shouted Angua.
"I er said...not from here..ma am."
Angua snatched a large clump of grass, covered her most private parts and squatted down for cover. The voice drifted across the landscape from across the road,
"Don' worry ma-am I didn't look... much."
Angua peered in the direction of the voice, sleepy blood-shot eyes peered back. The eyes were housed in a drawn face covered with dried mud and atop, a tangle of slimy red hair. His appearance spoke of a night spent in the ditch or in one of the shades 3-star inns, and given the state of the inns, the safe money was on the ditch.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" She did her best ' it's okay, I always walk around nude in this field' type voice.
"Taters Curlywig, big game bullfrog hunter. Didn't ya see my banjo3, ma-am?" Taters scrambled out of his 'bed' in the ditch and onto the road. " ya wanna hear it?" he asked unslinging the dripping, muddy stringed instrument.
"No, err...that's all right thank you," replied Angua.
" Oh yeah, ya awl ready heard it,"
"Wha...?"
Taters Curlywig interjected, " you bein' a dream an all."
"What?!" Angua wrinkled her forehead and scratched at an annoying itch on her shoulder.
"Well," continued Taters, pausing every so often to pull a face, stick an enormous red tongue out the side of his mouth, pluck a string, and wiggle a tuning peg, "seein' as Ima' sleepin' in this 'ere ditch," plink, plink, plink, the banjo rattled as mud glopped off the resonator and a string tightened, "'cos it's dark an' all." Plink, plink, plank, " n' I ain't seen no nuddy, beggin ya pardon ma-ma, lady in this 'ere field 'fore. You gots' ta be a dream." Plink, plink, plink.
Angua thought playing along might be the safest for now, "Oh, well...umm...yes, this is all a dream. Now go lay down and dream about something else." Angua scratched at another savage assault by a restless flea.
Taters strummed a chord, "me, me, me."
" Now what are you doing?" inquired Angua.
" well, I'm tuning up, ma-am. I'm gonna charm me some large bull frogs. I need lots of 'um. Ya see, this weird-o priest-y type guy needs 100 frog eyes for some strange ritual," Plink, plink, plink.

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1: For the slowest boats in the convoy, and those of you who have not had the pleasure of living as a flea, the world for a flea would be the host and therefore the end of the would actually be a rear (a bum).
2: Carrot was never fond of the word "arse".
3: Big game bullfrog hunters are renown for two things. The first being intelligence ( or lack there of), and the second being an amazing ability to play duelling banjos at birth.