Doze Snooze Sleep

Monday

I knocked cautiously on the door

‘Enter,’ came the voice of The Hand of The King.

My hands were full so I rubbed my groin against the door, arousing myself just enough to poke open the latch. I nudged it with my feet and sidled in. The King’s Hand sat facing away from me,

‘Yes, what is it?’ He asked

‘Umm…King Joffrey wanted me to bring this to you my Lord,’

A sigh arose from a chair facing the fire,

‘I hope it’s not what I think it is….’ The Hand trailed off, before jumping down from his chair and waddling into sight.

He was shorter than I’d imagined, almost cute, like a Furby or a Monkey (bush baby). As he approached, I placed my delivery on the floor (ground). Well, I mean, I dropped the lifeless body on the floor.

‘Another one?’ Lord Tyrion asked aloud. I nodded, ‘what for this time?’

‘I believe it was for His Grace’s Bar Mitzvah, My Lord’

‘First Kwanzaa, then Thanksgiving, and now this? I mean, Joffrey isn’t even Jewish…!’ Tyrion kicked the lifeless body in front of him, before adding, ‘He’d only been cleaning windows here for a week and all….oh well, another one for the wall I guess.’

Tyrion gestured to a nearby wall, on which were mounted a large number of Human heads on display shields. Some of the names underneath read: Prostitute 1, Baker, Minstrel, Prostitute 2, Prostitute 3, Fisherman, Prostitute 4.

‘He doesn’t like hookers too much does he”’ I ventured. Tyrion laughed.

‘He prefers beating them to death instead of beating off to them.’

Tyrion walked over to a table and tried to grab a bottle of wine, but he couldn’t reach. After watching him try for about five minutes or so, I walked over to the table and casually lifted the bottle off the table and gave it to him. He held it with both hands, arms wrapped around it like it was his only friend. Cute. He waddled unsteadily across to a goblet on the floor and awkwardly tipped a small trickle of wine into it. Squatting, he placed the bottle on the floor and picked up the thimble-sized goblet. Looking around, I noticed everything in the room – bar the wine bottles – was a miniature. It was like hanging out in Medieval Barbie’s Orgy tower.

Placing my hands on his head, I ruffled his hair as I leapfrogged over Tyrion and onto a nearby couch, twisting myself until I was comfortable. It was a most provocative pose. I stuck a joint in my mouth and lit it off a nearby candle. Taking a drag I pumped a cloud of smoke into the Little Man’s face.

‘So…do you wear Kids’ size clothes or what then?’

He coughed loudly several times, between each cough stuttering ‘who…are…you…again?

‘I’m the new Intern,’ I replied, taking another puff on the joint, ‘Don’t think I do this on the reg, but when Grand Maester Pycelle rolls a zoot you better believe that shit is worth smoking.’

‘Yes, I’ve had enough of Pycelle’s potions and tintures to last me a lifetime. The last one he created - …Meow Meow…I think it was called – was banned. So, I guess that explains your arrogance. Do you know what happened to the last person who was here on an Internship?’

‘Umm….he got made King?’

Tyrion pointed out the window. I gulped, loudly, like in a cartoon.

‘You threw him out a window?’

‘Oh god no!’ responded the Dwarf, ‘He jumped out of the window – King Joffrey made him do it for singing R Kelly’s ‘I Believe I Can Fly’ all day, every day.’

I made a mental note to avoid mentioning R Kelly when around King Joffrey, especially because R Kelly is famous for only two things: ‘I Believe I Can Fly’ and pissing on little girls. I really didn’t want to piss on any little girls, or have Joffrey piss on me.

‘Thanks for the advice’ I said gratefully.

‘I’ll see you around’ replied The Hand of The King, smiling, ‘Oh, and remember, don’t smoke anymore of Pycelle’s stash.’

Tuesday

‘ I have too fucked the Queen!’

‘Fuck you Lancel, you’re full of bullshit.’

I was sat in the staff room (read: partially furnished dungeon) of the Red Keep, arguing with Lancel Lannister. Lancel was the late King Robert’s squire, but in the wake of his death had been noshing his way to the top at a phenomenal rate.

‘Lancel, the girl don’t like you, I don’t like you, nobody likes you. And you telling rumours like that…you’re going to get yourself killed boy!’

‘It’s not a rumour, it’s the truth,’ said Lancel sullenly.

‘You think King Joffrey wants to hear that his cousin is smashing his mum, after having to listen people say his Uncle is really his Dad. What the hell is the matter with you Lannisters? Your lives are like a plot of Eastenders….except everyone is related. Your lives are like Emmerdale!

Lancel was quiet. He was obviously thinking up a reply, but couldn’t quite compete with my own cognitive abilities. He looked up sharply and smiled. Clearly inspiration had arrived.

‘Watch this,’ he said.

Lancel pulled out his Iphone and logged into Facebook.

‘Come on man, I’ve only got like five minutes of my break left,’ I wheedled, ‘This better be worth it!’

Lancel hunched over his Iphone for a few more seconds and then held it out for me to see. I laughed when I saw what was on the screen,

‘You sent a relationship request to your own goddamn cousin? What the hell is the matter with you man! Hahaha’

‘She’ll accept, you’ll see!’

Having sat and laughed at Lancel for what seemed like two hours and thirty-three minutes, I checked my own phone for the time, only to discover I’d actually only been laughing at him for two hours and thirty two minutes. I was also over two hours late coming back from lunch – Fucking Lancel.

‘Well?’ I asked

‘Umm…well…’ was all he could manage before his Iphone beeped at him. With cat like agility Lancel opened his notification, only to sink back into his chair as quickly as he had risen, like a wave or a yo-yo.

‘Well?’ I asked again. He held his phone up for me to read: ‘Lancel Lanister is in a relationship and it’s complicated’.

‘BOOM! I told you she wouldn’t accept a relationship request! You’re such a fucking liar,’ I yelled in his general direction.

‘I’m not! I had my willy in her and everything! You’ll see! I promise’

Lancel’s voice had taken on a pitiful, defeated tone, leaving him to sound like a deflating balloon every time he spoke. Realising that I hadn’t the heart to bully Lancel anymore, I left him to wallow in his self-pity and slowly backed out of the room.

Wednesday

The Queen Regent’s scream of surprise could be heard throughout the Keep.

‘AHHHH!!!’ I said again, still stood in the same star pose I’d jumped into her room with, ‘Guess who’s back with the ill behavior? Seriously though, I bought you some wine.’

Queen Cersei glowered at mine, her coal like eyes hot like hot coals, smoldering like hot coal, giving her a…hot…coal-like façade. Despite all the coal, I could see she was angry at me, so I edged further into the room and carefully placed her wine jug on her dresser.

‘You know, I always imagined you kinda people to be more easy going?’

‘My kind of people?’ she replied aloofly.

‘Well, you know, I just didn’t have you pinned down as being so aloof,’ I said nonchalantly, picking up a jewel encrusted tiara and trying it on. It didn’t fit so I had to try and ram it onto my head. It refused to fit and having bent it more out of shape than Uri Gellar might have, I put it down and asked, ‘I thought you’d have more arms and legs as well.’

‘What?’

‘You know, I thought you’d have like 6 legs and stuff…’

‘Explain yourself before I have you executed,’ Cersei was getting angry.

‘I always thought that people who did incest had six legs’

There was an awkward pause, broken only four times by loud, and prolonged, coughing fits I used to cover up some untimely wind that I was suffering from (the food in the Red Keep was Baked Beans, Smiley Face Potato Shapes and Crispy Pancakes most nights – personally I blame King Joffrey’s delight in beheading anyone who squeezed cheese in his presence for the shit nutritional value of meals. That, and the fact that “Dr” Gillian Mckeith was Sandor Clegane’s sister and worked part time in the Palace. In keeping with Clegane family tradition, Gillian also had her own nickname: The Hound, The Mountain That Rides, and The Fucking Stupid Bitch Who Isn’t A Real Doctor).

Cersei’s grimace was palpable. So palpable that its palpability couldn’t have been any more palpable unless it was constantly palping.

‘I think you mean Insects. Insects have 6 legs,’ said the Queen frostily.

‘Oh. What’s incest then?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘You know Lancel said he fucked you’

Cersei seemed shocked, ‘…but…I’

‘Don’t worry, I told him to stop spreading bullshit around the castle,’ I replied, giving her a big thumbs up. Cersei heaved a sigh of relief and slumped onto her bed, sitting on its edge with her legs spread and eyeing me cautiously, as if I was a Shark with a gun.

Seeing the Queen sit here like this gave her a vulnerability that I hadn’t noticed before: She wasn’t wearing a bra. My natural height gave me a perfect view down her cleavage and it was definitely sans bra…or the Medieval equivalent…sans boiled leather strap secured asthmatically tight around her frosty breasticles. This was my chance. I could get laid and make Lancel look like an idiot if I could just seduce the Queen right here, right now.

‘You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, it’s true,’ I took a breath and continued, ‘I saw your face in a crowded place, and I don’t know what to do, ‘cause I’ll never be with you…’ I winked, and finished with a falsetto ‘….or I could be with you right here, right now……’ (Personally, I thought I held the pitch perfectly, but that’s another discussion for another time)

The Queen didn’t even bat an eyelid. My seduction had failed; I was going to be a laughing stock for the first time in my life. Suddenly, I remembered that there was something in my back pocket. Without missing a beat I pulled out a long blonde wig and slipped it onto my hair,

‘How about now?’ I asked

‘Hmmmm,’ purred Cersei, ‘ You look just like Jaime…’

‘Jaime…your brother? Celibate Jaime of The Kingsgaurd? Your celibate brother Jaime who definitely isn’t the King’s father?’

‘The very same’ purred Cersei again, as she lapped at a saucer of milk.

Maybe the wig had been a bad idea. I was all over getting into Cersei’s pants, but not so keen on pretending I was her brother whilst doing it. I mean I’ve done some wild stuff in my time, I’ve crossed the road when the light was red, I’ve gone through Tesco self-service without paying, but roleplaying insect sex with a Queen..?

‘Is that the time?’ I stuttered, pointing to my left

The queen looked to her right, ‘no that’s  a wall,’ she replied

‘Really? And what an intriguing wall it is! Maybe if I look a bit closer I’ll be able to decipher its time revealing abilities.’ I wandered stiffly over to the wall and started to examine it up close: touching it, licking it, smelling it, ‘…doesn’t look like it’s going to give up it’s secrets easily,’ I told her.

‘That’s because it’s a wall,’ said Cersei drolly.

‘IT IS??’ I said with an undetectable amount of feigned surprise, ‘Well I’m going to retire now and think about what I’ve seen.’

Backing out of the room, I swiped the wig off of my head and threw it out of a window. Unfortunately my aim wasn’t the greatest and it landed in the fire, catching alight instantly.

‘For Fuck’s sake,’ I muttered, ‘ probably shouldn’t have covered it in so much hairsp-‘

I didn’t get to finish my sentence because the wig exploded in a fiery blaze, leaving a litany of flaming chunks of hair all over Cersei’s room. Seeing this as quite the convenient distraction, I slipped out of the Queen’s room.

I didn’t meet the Queen’s eye’s over dinner, but Joffrey complained enough about the smell of burning that now followed his mother around everywhere, for me to know that she hated me.