All right, well...
The slightly short, dark figure's robe whips in the wind; strange, since the air is still. He eyes the woman standing before him, and mutters some-thing under his breath, gesticulating all the while. Suddenly, he yells one alien-sounding word and points at her.
A cloud forms over her head, pelting her with rain and hail. A bolt of lightning strikes randomly, and a deafening crack thunders through the arena. Suddenly, the rain turns to acid, sizzling on the bricks and the girl's flesh.
"I meant," said Iplsore bitterly, "what is there in this world that makes living worthwhile?"
Death thought about it.
"CATS," he said eventually, "CATS ARE NICE."
Terry Pratchett, Sourcery