I have recently been appointed the Rainbow Bridge ambassador to a new territory: Westeros. It is the home of the Seven Kingdoms on the popular television series Game of Thrones. If you don’t recognize the name, then this blog may confuse you, which is a state many of my reader's experience.
I had one request: That I am allowed to fly a dragon on my initial visit to Westeros. This desire was denied, but I was granted a dragonfly body to adopt for my voyage: Quite a disappointment.
My first stop was to speak with Daenerys Targaryen I had received a complaint that her dragons were chained in a cave in unsanitary conditions with little access to food and water. I demanded access to the creatures. When I gained entry to their habitat, I was hit with a foul smell. I immediately determined that the Queen of Dragons was the Mother of Messy. I took out my citation book and began to write. One of the dragons turned to me, breathed, burned my book and some paw hair. I let Miss Stormborn off with a warning. You can’t talk to a woman with three dragons in her cave.
From there I investigated the rash of dire wolf deaths. After interviewing several people, I determined that the wolves owners, the Starks, are politically naive, horrible military strategists, and one son, Bran, is definitely on Crystal Meth. Sadly, there is one one remaining Dire Wolf remaining, but it is at the Wall in the snow and Yorkies do not do endless winter.
Finally, I was tasked with finding new homes for Ramsey Bolton’s dogs. At first, I thought this would be easy but surprisingly many people in Westeros do not want to adopt a dog who ate it’s previous owners face. I decided to send the dogs to Braavos to be adopted. If there are men there with no faces, they won’t mind have them eaten by dogs.
I returned to Meereen and sat on top of the pyramid with Tyrion drinking Foletyins, which he found delightful, and talking about how it is truly the small ones who rule the kingdoms.
I look forward to my next trip to Westeros. I just hope there are less dragons