Author's note: I own nothing. If you recognize it, it's not mine. Don't bother suing, you won't get anything.
The mountaintop was quiet. Too quiet, in fact, for such a bright summer day. Almost as though Nature itself had gone into hiding. In the forest, no birds chirped, no animals stirred. Even in the little village, the people were holed up, hiding from the horror about to commence.
Thud, thud, thud. The silence was broken by a large object being dragged across the ground. Then came the splash of hot water, pouring down. That most horrific moment of the year had come: it was time for Nanny Ogg's yearly bath.
While most people believed in regular bathing, Nanny Ogg was of the opinion that a little dirt toughened you up. In any case, had anyone had the nerve to question her, she would most likely have said that she DID bathe regularly: every summer, nice and regular. That is, if she wasn't too busy threatening to curse the impertinent soul with such poor manners as to question a DEAR old lady so. In any case, few people would dare to question the elderly witch; as everyone in the Ramtops knew, if you ticked off a witch, you'd probably spend the rest of your life sitting on a lilypad eating flies.
Of course, most people in the Ramtops would prefer that Nanny Ogg stop bathing altogether. The reason for which was why all the people and animals were hiding, with their hands (and paws respectively) clasped over their ears. For when Nanny Ogg bathed, Nanny Ogg SANG. Now, most people can't sing. There are many people out there who are tone deaf and still think they can carry a tune (usually the ones at outdoor amateur concerts getting pelted with fruit). These are merely BAD singers. Nanny, on the other hand, could be considered a negative virtuoso. The depths of her talent could never be measured. And so, as with all bad singers, she sang as loudly and cheerfully as she could, particularly in the bath.
With a gnarled old brush in one hand, and a fluffy towel in the other, she approached the bath. It was a nice quiet day, and with the tall copper sides of the tub, she'd be sure to get some good volume.
She was just about to step into the tub when a bright light flashed, and the water fountained upward, leaving in its wake a young man with dark hair and strange clothes.
“Oops!” said Xander. “Sorry ma'am, I didn't mean to disrupt your bath.” He looked away from her, and took in his surroundings. “Somehow, I don't think I'm in California.”
Author's note: Sorry for the short chapter, but my muse was screaming at me, and I wanted to get this out as soon as possible. Now you can vote: is this a long visit, or a quick stop?