Leroy Neiman Resting Lion

Leroy Neiman Resting LionLeroy Neiman Hand Off Superbowl IIIJean-Honore Fragonard the reader
Who are you?
Rincewind, thought Rincewind. And in the inner recesses of his head he tried to think privately to himself ... help.
He felt his screaming; it wouldn't have made it any better, but it would have seemed more appropriate. The silence bespoke an unpleasant air of purpose.
'Gods, that was awful,' he said. 'Mind you, so is this.'
Crew members scurried across the deck, cutlasses in hand. Conina tapped Rincewind on the shoulder.knees begin to buckle under the weight of centuries.What's it like, being dead? he thought.Death is but a sleep, said the dead mages.But what does it feel like? Rincewind thought.You will have an unrivalled chance to find out when those war canoes get here, Rincewind. With a yelp of terror he thrust upwards and forced the hat off his head. Real life and sound flooded back in, but since someone was frantically banging a gong very close to his ear this was not much of an improvement. The canoes were visible to everyone now, cutting through the water with an eerie silence. Those black-clad figures manning the paddles should have been whooping and