Au Guet ! (Les annales du Dique-monde, Tome 8) by Terry Pratchett

By Terry Pratchett

Une société secrète d’encagoulés complote pour renverser le seigneur Vétérini, Patricien d’Ankh-Morpork, et lui substituer un roi.
C’est sans compter avec le guet municipal et son équipe de fins limiers.
Une affaire à l. a. mesure du capitaine Vimaire – s’il boit, c’est pour oublier les laideurs de l. a. vie – et de ses brillants adjoints. (« Tous pour un ! » )
Et lorsqu’on retrouve au petit jour dans les rues les corps des citoyens transformés en biscuits calcinés, l’enquête s’oriente résolument vers un dragon de vingt-cinq mètres qui crache le feu ; on aurait quelques questions à lui poser.
Mais peut-être l. a. collaboration du bibliothécaire de l’Université ne sera-t-elle pas inutile : n’arbore-t-il pas aussi une plaque de l. a. DST (Défense simienne du territoire) ?

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Extra info for Au Guet ! (Les annales du Dique-monde, Tome 8)

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So there’s that. Other dissimilarities probably include my home state (Nebraska), my choice for corrective vision (glasses), and my love of cute photos sent via email (low, borderline robot-level). I also own a cat. And if you own a cat, as well, I doubt it’s named Olive. And if it is named Olive, I still doubt that we’re talking about the same cat. I’m confident there are enough similarities between us that you can flip through this book, nod your head in agreement a few times, and generally feel good about paying money for it or going to the hassle of stealing it from the store.

I shouldn’t have to freeze my rear end off every time I email my landlord. The scariest movie monster has to be the Invisible Man. Because he’s a naked man. And he might be sitting on your sofa. I must have slept like a log last night, because I feel like someone chopped me up and stacked me neatly by the garage. I’m banned from driving muscle cars because I just tested positive for Yoplait lowfat yogurt. I bet the town hall meetings in Germany were full of protesters comparing Hitler to Hitler.

Rude. My neighbor across the street keeps looking directly into my rifle scope. Ate an Egg MacGuffin this morning, although it didn’t really have anything to do with the rest of my breakfast. As a general rule of thumb, I prefer one per hand. But I’ll make some exceptions. Giving this positive outlook thing the old college try. Which means I’ll only try on Tuesdays and Thursdays. All the world’s a stage? Or the world is my oyster? I need to know so I can wear the right shoes. I’ve been feeling better about myself ever since I started calling the fetal position the victory position.

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