Pop art why are you still here

Pop art why are you still herePop art trane in redPop art stevie on brown
Despite her better nature, Magrat felt a spark of righ-teous ire.
“Oh, so suddenly I’m a witch again when you—“
Granny Weatherwax sighed.
“No time for that, either,” she said. “I’m just askin’. All you have to do is say no. Then I’ll take her away and won’t bother you again.”
The quietness of her voice was so unexpected that Magrat tripped over her own anger, and tried to right her-self.
“I wasn’t saying I wouldn’t, I was just—“
“Good.”
There Shawn paused halfway to the door.
“Yes, Miss Queen?”
“On your way out, stop off in the kitchens and ask them
to boil up a lot of water. We can start by getting the wound
clean, at any rate. But look, elves—“was a series of clangs as Nanny Ogg lifted the sil-ver tureen lids.“Hey, they’ve got three kinds of eggs!”“Well, there’s no fever,” said Magrat. “Slow pulse. Eyes unfocused. Shawn?”“Yes, Miss Queen?”“Boiled, scrambled and fried. That’s what I call posh.”“Run down to my cottage and bring back all the books you can find. I’m sure I read something about this once, Granny. Shawn?”