Status Updates From Wintersmith (Discworld, #35)

The Nac Mac Feegle spark joy

Daily Rob Anybody:
“At a time like this, too,” said Miss Treason, laying down the shamble. She paused for a moment and said: “I will die the day after tomorrow. On Friday, just before half past six in the morning.”
It was an impressive statement, and did not deserve this reply: “Oh, that’s a shame, tae be missin’ the weekend like that,” said Rob Anybody. “Are ye goin’ somewhere nice?”

Daily Rob Anybody:
The Chalk Hill Feegles, on the other hand, were more at home with the drinkin’, stealin’, and fightin’, and Rob Anybody was good at all three. But he’d learned to read and write because Jeannie had asked him to. He did them with a lot more optimism than accuracy, Billy knew. When he was faced with a long sentence, he tended to work out a few words and then have a great big guess.

Daily Granny Weatherwax:
Granny Weatherwax wasn’t popular with anyone much—except when they needed her. When Death was standing by the cradle or the axe slipped in the woods and blood was soaking into the moss, you sent someone hurrying to the cold, gnarly little cottage in the clearing. When all hope was gone, you called for Granny Weatherwax, because she was the best.
And she always came. Always. But popular? No.

Miss Tick made her own Missionaria Protectiva lol

I can excuse tiny blue men that are each stronger than three regular men, and even a mystical entity that brings the winter, but I draw the line at Granny Weatherwax violating the second law of thermodynamics.