Discworld flashfic: "Perhaps We Should Improvise?", (PG)

[hsavinien]

Title: “Perhaps We Should Improvise?”
Author: H. Savinien
Fandom: Discworld
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 300
Disclaimer: All characters and other recognizable features are the property of Messr. Pterry, long may he prosper.
Summary: Ponder Stibbons could not catch a break if it were thrown to him gently underhand. Another moment in the life of UU.

***

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ponder Stibbons knew they'd been exactly the wrong thing to say. The Archchancellor turned the full weight of his stare on Ponder, but before he could speak, the Chair of Indefinite Studies squawked, “Improvise? My dear man, we are wizards. We don't improvise. Where would we be if people started improvising in the middle of a ritual summoning, swapping beetles out for belljars or some such? Neck-deep in Things from Beyond, that's where!”

Ridcully's annoyance redirected at the Chair. The Archchancellor took a moment to quell their esteemed colleague with an eyebrow-raise and an expertly aimed billiard ball to the soup plate. While the Chair mopped shrimp consommé out of his beard, Ridcully turned back to Ponder.

“Dangerous business, improvisation,” the Archchancellor observed, ignoring the Chair's grumblesⁱ. “Dangerous and imprecise and,” he took a thoughtful bite of breadroll, “not very academic. Good gad, it's the sort of thing people expect from a witch. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's not wizardly, though.”

“But just the other day you were prodding Hex with all the magic wands we'd got in storage to try to make it spit out next month's menus after the writing tape jammed,” Ponder protested weakly.

“Completely different,” Ridcully said. “That was a careful and analytical experiment, not improvisation. Completely different. Highly academic.”

The other senior faculty were all nodding in agreement. Ponder sighed. They'd get the students' stick-to-the-floor-nessⁱⁱ turned back on somehow, he supposed, but Mrs Whitlow's next glacial note about footprints on the ceiling was getting forwarded directly on to the Archchancellor.

***

i some of which sounded insubordinately close to “I just said that.”
ii A principle of the Disc named by that genius, Leonard of Quirm.