“This blasted wire baskety wheely thing,” said the Archchancellor. Beside him, a tiny purple spi
der-like creature materialized out of the air and scuttled toward a crevice. The wizards didn’t notice it.
“What wire baskety wheely thing?” said the wizards, in unison.
Ridcully looked around him.
“I could have sworn—” he began.
There was another scream.
Ridcully scrambled to his feet.
“Come on, you fellows!” he said, limping heroically onward.
“Why does everyone run toward a blood-curdling scream?” mumbled the Senior Wrangler. “It’s contrary to all sense.”
They trotted out through the cloisters and into the quadrangle.
A rounded, dark shape was squatting in the middle of the ancient lawn. Steam was coming out of it in little, noisome wisps.
“What is it?”
“It can’t be a compost heap in the middle of the lawn, can it?”
“Modo will be very upset.”
The Dean peered closer. “Er…especially because, I do believe, that’s his feet poking out from under it…”
The heap swiveled toward the wizards and made a glop, glop noise.
Then it moved.
“Right, then,” said Ridcully, rubbing his hands together hopefully, “which of you fellows has got a spell about them at the moment?”
The wizards patted their pockets in an embarrassed fashion.
“Then I shall attract its attention while the Bursar and the Dean try to pull Modo out,” said Ridcully.
“Oh, good,” said the Dean faintly.
“How can you attract a compost heap’s attention?” said the Senior Wrangler. “I shouldn’t think it’s even got one.”
Ridcully removed his hat and stepped gingerly forward.
“Load of rubbish!” he roared.
The Senior Wrangler groaned and put his hand over his eyes.
Ridcully flapped his hat in front of the heap.
“Biodegradable garbage!”
“Poor green trash?” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes helpfully.
“That’s the ticket,” said the Archchancellor. “Try to infuriate the bugger.” (Behind him, a slightly different variety of mad waspy creature popped out of the air and buzzed away.)
The heap lunged at the hat.