Ankh Morpork Rickshaw Ride

Written with a bow to Sir Terry Pratchett.

Agnes Drumwheel steered her rickshaw through the Ankh-Morpork drizzle, the cobbles slicker than a troll’s belly after a particularly juicy troll pie. Lightning lit up the puddles, momentarily illuminating the scowling face of her passenger. He was a lanky lad, hair the colour of unwashed socks, and a beard that looked like it had wrestled a badger and lost.