Night Fright

I wouldn't normally do this kind of thing, but I'd had a couple of glasses of wine and had to get to an emergency wedding* in a hurry. I couldn't pilot Broom or Car in my semi inebriated state - Car would've been useless anyway, as it still hasn't learnt to traverse Other Realms. So, I had to acquiesce to the only other option open to me.

I took the Nightship.

I hadn't used one in a few centuries, so I only had partial memories of this particular variety of public transport. I must admit, the 'ship looked so majestic as it faded in from middle distance. Its running lights twinkled against the sleek, sculpted, black wooden hull. Then the docking beams blazed into life, searching for the mooring points at the stop on Mousehold Heath - the nearest stop to where I live. The 'ship slowed to a stop, vents opening in the lower hull. The other two denizens of the night were covering their noses - Well, the sinister-looking old lady had hers swamped by a huge lacy handkerchief, but the demon only had three of its four noses covered by its only three hands. It looked beseechingly at the old lady, who rolled her eyes before putting the torch-thing she held in her left hand in her bag, then she grimaced as she gingerly pinched the demon's nostrils shut on its fourth nose. It looked at her gratefully, but she just sighed and turned the other way.

What were they doin -

PHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRBTBBTTBTBTTBBTTBTH!

Eeep! I'd forgotten about the smell! I managed to bury my nose and mouth into the cloak in the crook of my arm before the dense brown-black smog from the vents assaulted my delicate nostrils. I even depowered my Clairalience, just to be on the safe side. However, even through the thick fabric of my cloak, I could smell the fumes.

Peeeeewwwwwwww!

The Hellish sulphur I can just about stand - after all, I'm in Hell so often that I've got used to it - but it's the fuel that makes me gag. That spewgusting stench of burning Horlicks mixed with sugar free cola (Pepsi Max and Coke Zero, I'm looking at you!) really turns my stomach. And when it passes through the Nightship's catlitter convertors... Oog! Aack! It gives me the dry heaves!

Anyway, my poor familiar. No, not Beaky. The current one, Gitface Nuffy. He's so close to the ground - where the fumes are worse - that the poor little sod nearly got asphyxiated. In the end, I took pity on him and let him sit on my shoulder until we boarded.



* Don't ask.