Firstly, the drainpipe he was riding hit the wall of the building opposite. In a well-organized world he might have landed on a fire escape, but fire escapes were unknown in Ankh-Morpork and the flames generally had to leave via the roof.
With the pipe thus leaning against the wall, he found himself sliding down the diagonal. Even this might have been a happy outcome were it not for the fact that Colon was a heavy man and, as his weight slid nearer to the middle of the unsupported pipe, the pipe sagged, and cast iron has only a very limited amount of sag before it snaps, which it novv did.
Colon dropped, and landed on something soft -at least, softer than the street - and the something went 'mur-r-r-r-r-m!'. He bounced off it and landed on something lower and softer which went 'baaaaarp!', and rolled from this on to something even lower and apparently made of feathers, which went insane. And pecked him.
The street was full of animals, milling around uncertainly. When animals are in a state of uncertainty they get nervous, and the street was already, as it were, paved with anxiety. The only benefit to Sergeant Colon was that this made it slightly softer than would otherwise have been the case.
Hooves trod on his hands. Very large dribbly noses sneezed at him.
Sergeant Colon had not hitherto had a great deal of experience of animals, except in portion sizes. When he'd been little he'd had a pink stuffed pig called Mr Dreadful, and he'd got up to Chapter Six in Animal Husbandry. It had woodcuts in it. There was no mention of hot smelly breath and great clomping feet like soup plates on a stick. Cows, in Sergeant Colon's book, should go 'moo'. Every child knew that. They shouldn't go 'mur-r-r-r-r-m!' like some kind of undersea monster and spray you with spit.
He tried to get up, skidded on some cow's moment of crisis, and sat down on a sheep. It went 'blaaaart!' What kind of noise was that for a sheep to make?
He got up again and tried to make his way to the kerb. 'Shoo! Get out of the damn way, you sheep! Gam!'
A goose hissed at him and stuck out altogether too much neck. ;The boot it was holding came off,' moaned Colon.
'How did that happen?'
'It got... lubricated...'
Wee Mad Arthur tugged at a finger. 'Up yez come, then.'
'Can't.'
'Why not? It ain't holding on to yez no more.'
'Arms tired. Another ten seconds and I'm gonna be a chalk outline...'
'Nah, no one's got that much chalk.' Wee Mad Arthur knelt down so that his head was level with Colon's eyes. 'If you gonna die, d'yez mind signing a chitty to say yez promised me a dollar?'
Down below, there was a chink of pottery shards.
'What was that?' said Colon. 'I thought the damn thing smashed up ...
Wee Mad Arthur looked down. 'D'yez believe in that reincarnation stuff, Mr Colon?' he said.
'You wouldn't get me touching that foreign muck,' said Colon.
'Well, it's putting itself together. Like one of them jiggling saw puzzles.'
'Well done, Wee Mad Arthur,' said Colon. 'But I know you're just saying that so's I'll make the effort to haul meself up, right? Statues don't go putting themselves back together when they're smashed up.'
'Please yezself. It's done nearly a whole leg already.'
Colon managed to peer down through the small and smelly space between the wall and his armpit. All he could see were shreds of fog and a faint glow.
'You sure?' he said.
'Yez run around rat holes, yez learns to see good in the dark,' said Wee Mad Arthur. 'Otherwise yez dead.'
Something hissed, somewhere below Colon's feet.
With his one booted foot and his toes he scrabbled at the brickwork.
'It's having a wee bit o' trouble,' said Wee Mad Arthur conversationally. 'Looks like it's put its knees on wrong way round.'
Dorfl sat hunched in the abandoned cellar where the golems had met. Occasionally the golem raised its head and hissed. Red light spilled from its eyes. If something had streamed back down through the glow, soared through the eye-sockets into the red sky beyond, there would be ...