---
Havelock Vetinari glanced around the backyard. Summer was drawing to a close, his third year at the Guild would be starting again soon, and locusts were being obnoxious in the trees. A bowl of chocolate ice cream lay unheeded in the grass by the shed.
He fidgeted the tarp around on a line of things standing upright and carefully poured water on the dirt and brush surrounding it. Safety always pays.
Three hours later, Sybil, Rust and Downey showed up. Sybil would be off to her first year at finishing school and Ron was disappearing to a military school somewhere in Psuedopolis. It would be the first winter the Homies were ever really separated.
That wasn't bothering them, though. Right now, the blue fireworks exploding from the lawn below and into the sky were much more entertaining. The four of them sat on the roof of the Vetinari mansion and watched, occasionally taking a bite of pizza.
"This winter's gonna suck, you know it?" Downey said at the end of the show. Vetinari was tossing water onto the smoldering cases and into the dog kennels. Indignant yelps rang through the night.
"We can still write letters," Sybil said, taking a reflective bite of the cheese pizza.
"I know, but who're we going to cause mayhem and chaos and disaster with?" Downey watched in disgust as Havelock took a bite of beef and pineapple pizza**. "Havelock and I can't very well do it alone."
"We'll have to take a break until next summer, then," Ron said, stretching. "And there are the holidays."
"True, true."
"Besides, things don't catch fire as easily in the winter."
"Havelock that is just the comment I would expect from you."
--
* I want no "eww-nasty"s in reviews. Some of us happen to like bizarre pizza.
--
In Lady Sybil's sitting room, over pizza, the four Homies were sitting and debating. Again.
"I think some of us prefer vanilla ice cream," Downey was saying.
"Peanut butter," Rust said, twiddling his thumbs and looking at the ceiling.
"Vanilla."
"Peanut butter."
"Vanilla!"
"Peanut butter!" Sybil and Havelock exchanged distressed looks. Lord Vetinari didn't eat ice cream and Lady Sybil didn't particularly care.
"Ask Havelock!" The two arguing men glared at the Patrician, who thought very quickly on how to placate to situation.
"I'm lactose-intolerant."
"Oh, for the love of the gods . . ."
"Boys," Sybil said, rapping a knife on the side of the empty pizza box.
"How can you be lactose-intolerant, you're eating pizza with /cheese/ on! Not to mention that nasty pineapple and beef."
"I resent that!"
"Boys!" Sybil threw the spoon. It just happened, by complete chance, to hit Downey. "A half-gallon of ice-cream costs two dollars at the market. I will have the scullery boy fetch both." Wilikins glanced nervously around the room, nodded at Lady Sybil, and left. "Now, what was the real topic at hand for tonight?"
"What to write in the book," Vetinari said, pulling another piece of pizza out of the box.
"What was the last entry?" Downey asked, leaning back in the chair. "I ate entirely too much."
"'The Homiehood has collapsed'."
Rust winced. "That was after the first . . . incident." Vetinari nodded, as his moth was full of pizza. "Well, I think we should write that it has been officially re-formed."
"Has it?" Downey asked.
"I should day so," Sybil said. With a slight grin she added "Nothing like a good row to re-forge things."
"Should I write that, then?" Vetinari asked, quill poised above the paper. The group gave a nod.
Years later, Sam Vimes would open the faded green book. It would be four years after Sybil's - the last surviving member of the Homiehood* - death. And he would laugh on discovering the last entry in the book:
/On general consensus, the Homiehood has been reformed. It will probably remain so, but who knows. Sybil wants a passage about everlasting friendship. Downey wants something about loyalty and Rust wants something about kindness. See what I have to put up with?/ -Vetinari, June 7 '03.
--
*Women always live longer than men. I could make a really sexist joke here, but I'm not going to. I respect the inferior sex.
---
A/n: And so it ends. Please review and give me feedback. I like feedback.
Havelock Vetinari glanced around the backyard. Summer was drawing to a close, his third year at the Guild would be starting again soon, and locusts were being obnoxious in the trees. A bowl of chocolate ice cream lay unheeded in the grass by the shed.
He fidgeted the tarp around on a line of things standing upright and carefully poured water on the dirt and brush surrounding it. Safety always pays.
Three hours later, Sybil, Rust and Downey showed up. Sybil would be off to her first year at finishing school and Ron was disappearing to a military school somewhere in Psuedopolis. It would be the first winter the Homies were ever really separated.
That wasn't bothering them, though. Right now, the blue fireworks exploding from the lawn below and into the sky were much more entertaining. The four of them sat on the roof of the Vetinari mansion and watched, occasionally taking a bite of pizza.
"This winter's gonna suck, you know it?" Downey said at the end of the show. Vetinari was tossing water onto the smoldering cases and into the dog kennels. Indignant yelps rang through the night.
"We can still write letters," Sybil said, taking a reflective bite of the cheese pizza.
"I know, but who're we going to cause mayhem and chaos and disaster with?" Downey watched in disgust as Havelock took a bite of beef and pineapple pizza**. "Havelock and I can't very well do it alone."
"We'll have to take a break until next summer, then," Ron said, stretching. "And there are the holidays."
"True, true."
"Besides, things don't catch fire as easily in the winter."
"Havelock that is just the comment I would expect from you."
--
* I want no "eww-nasty"s in reviews. Some of us happen to like bizarre pizza.
--
In Lady Sybil's sitting room, over pizza, the four Homies were sitting and debating. Again.
"I think some of us prefer vanilla ice cream," Downey was saying.
"Peanut butter," Rust said, twiddling his thumbs and looking at the ceiling.
"Vanilla."
"Peanut butter."
"Vanilla!"
"Peanut butter!" Sybil and Havelock exchanged distressed looks. Lord Vetinari didn't eat ice cream and Lady Sybil didn't particularly care.
"Ask Havelock!" The two arguing men glared at the Patrician, who thought very quickly on how to placate to situation.
"I'm lactose-intolerant."
"Oh, for the love of the gods . . ."
"Boys," Sybil said, rapping a knife on the side of the empty pizza box.
"How can you be lactose-intolerant, you're eating pizza with /cheese/ on! Not to mention that nasty pineapple and beef."
"I resent that!"
"Boys!" Sybil threw the spoon. It just happened, by complete chance, to hit Downey. "A half-gallon of ice-cream costs two dollars at the market. I will have the scullery boy fetch both." Wilikins glanced nervously around the room, nodded at Lady Sybil, and left. "Now, what was the real topic at hand for tonight?"
"What to write in the book," Vetinari said, pulling another piece of pizza out of the box.
"What was the last entry?" Downey asked, leaning back in the chair. "I ate entirely too much."
"'The Homiehood has collapsed'."
Rust winced. "That was after the first . . . incident." Vetinari nodded, as his moth was full of pizza. "Well, I think we should write that it has been officially re-formed."
"Has it?" Downey asked.
"I should day so," Sybil said. With a slight grin she added "Nothing like a good row to re-forge things."
"Should I write that, then?" Vetinari asked, quill poised above the paper. The group gave a nod.
Years later, Sam Vimes would open the faded green book. It would be four years after Sybil's - the last surviving member of the Homiehood* - death. And he would laugh on discovering the last entry in the book:
/On general consensus, the Homiehood has been reformed. It will probably remain so, but who knows. Sybil wants a passage about everlasting friendship. Downey wants something about loyalty and Rust wants something about kindness. See what I have to put up with?/ -Vetinari, June 7 '03.
--
*Women always live longer than men. I could make a really sexist joke here, but I'm not going to. I respect the inferior sex.
---
A/n: And so it ends. Please review and give me feedback. I like feedback.