WHISKERS AND WHEELS - A GAME OF THRONES STORY
GREETINGS DEAR FRIENDS
IT IS THAT TIME ONCE AGAIN, AROUND LATE APRIL, WHERE WE RETURN TO THE MAGICAL WORLD OF WESTEROS AND COMPLETELY FUCK UP THE CANON
FOR YOU SEE, THE GAME OF THRONES TV SHOW IS A WEE BIT TOO HARROWING AND BLEAK FOR MY LIKING
LIKE GRATUITOUS DEATH AND TITTIES ARE ALL WELL AND GOOD, BUT WHERE'S THE GOOD HEARTED FRIENDSHIP AND CHEERFUL CAMARADERIE?
WE WISH TO BRING LIGHT TO THIS NEGLECTED PORTION OF THE WORLD WITH OUR NEW AND COMPLETELY CANON INSTALMENT TO THE SERIES
SO SIT BACK AND RELAX WITH A BEVERAGE AND/OR TASTY SANDWICH OF YOUR CHOICE (MAY I RECOMMEND SMOKED HAM AND CHEESE - NO BEVERAGE RECOMMENDATION THOUGH, I'M NOT ONE TO DICTATE A MAN'S BEVERAGE CHOICES)
THIS NEEDN'T BE TYPED IN CAPS TO BE HONEST, IT'S RATHER MENIAL TALK
AIGHT LET'S GO
Chapter 1 - Fisherman's Friend
So we were reading the start of the New Testament for inspiration to figure out how to start this story, because surely this story will be on par with that literary text, but all we got was just a bunch of fucking names of random people who begat some other people. Some of the names were pretty funny though, like Roboarm and Manasses. Hopefully the trend of funny names will continue in this text.
Today we take you to the beautiful place known as King's Landing, where all the really fun bits of Game of Thrones take place. Featuring Cersei Lannister, who is not in this, because she is boring and it's proper gross that she has sex with her brother, eww. King's Landing also has some other more interesting elements, such as ubiquitous bordellos and bawdy-houses, many a plague running around, and of course, the gentlest of leaders, Ser Pounce. Now Ser Pounce is a cat, but that doesn't mean he can't make friends like the best of them. And his best friend was the King, but unfortunately, the King is also the boring character, so we're gonna shun him, push him to one side like a metaphorical boring paperweight, and give Ser Pounce a more worthy accomplice; a much more interesting, yet criminally underused badass. BUT MORE ON THAT LATER.
Now as we join the story, Ser Pounce is midway into an exciting drama-filled carriage chase; he is being hounded (get it? Cats are not a fan of hounds! Banter.) by the Faith Militant, who are aggravated by his agnosticism in the face of this city of piety and religious indoctrination. He is a glitch in their system, a loose end that must be tied up with violence, lest his lackadaisical attitude towards prayer spread to the general populace. May it be said that Ser Pounce did not intend to cause trouble; on the contrary, he is but a cat, and cats are not renowned for their piety. Shit, they're not really renowned for doing much. Like my cat's an asshole, I'm not a fan of him. But that's a minor digression, because though my cat is a shit, Ser Pounce is a unanimously loved rapscallion with a heart of gold and a smile that charms even the most cold-hearted of men.
So yeah, they're chasing him, through the streets, shouting stuff like 'Shame on you, you damn pussycat!' and 'Ah, ya cunt!' and other such defamatory things. But Ser Pounce is not one to be harmed by mean words; he isn't a knight for no damn reason! He has the courage of ten lions, and twice as many whiskers! I don't know what I'm writing! We're three paragraphs in and already it's falling apart!
So anyway. Ser Pounce whips at the reins and his horse run faster, whipping round a corner in a dramatic flash, the wheels of the carriage clacking against the cobblestones. The Faith draw in closer, whipping impotently at their reins as they start to lose Ser Pounce, who's riding prowess is unmatched by man or cat-kind. Suddenly, Ser Pounce notices a flagpole. Ah, he thinks. A perfect opportunity for slapstick shenanigans! I shall evade these mutton-headed prig-nappers and fly away!
He leaps from his seat and atop the carriage, staring back at his opponents with a wide grin. They glare at him, eyes ablaze with helpless fury, knowing fully well that Ser Pounce has already won. With eyes of fire, Ser Pounce yells at his opponents, glee in his voice. 'Ladies and gentlecats, you will always remember this day as the day you almost caught… Ser Pounce!' And with a congratulatory flick of his tail at a well-delivered catchphrase, he leapt off of the carriage and with graceful cat-like agility, clambered up the flagpole with lightning speed. He took a brief moment to glance back down at the ground, where he noticed the High Sparrow throwing his hat on the ground and stomping on it in a rage, that he would let this dazzling braggadocio evade capture once again.
As he reached the top of the flagpole (which was quite a tall flagpole, by the way), he gazed around at the sprawling cityscape before him, a industrialising stain on a world otherwise untouched by the scourges of man. And he thought to himself, gee, I reckon from this height, I can get across the ocean! And so he did.
Equipping his flying goggles, he calculated the direction and trajectory of his leap of faith; though as previously established, Ser Pounce did not have faith. He only had his cat-like wits and charming demeanour. With one big breath and a lot of courage, he leapt into the sky.
He travelled for miles on that one graceful bound, scanning the land as it flew beneath him in a flurry of colour. Truly a graceful sight, commented a passing fishermen who frequented Ser Pounce's flight path. Ser Pounce, recognising a good conversation, quickly stopped in mid-air, suspended mid-flight next to the fisherman's head.
'Oh, hello Ser Pounce!' said a surprised fisherman.
'Why hello there, good sailor!' replied Ser Pounce.
'Well well, I didn't know a cat could fly!' noted the fisherman.
'Well that's a coincidence! I didn't know a fisherman could fly!' said Ser Pounce, a twinkle in his eye.
And with a gracious swipe of his mighty claw, the fisherman was flying too! He whooped, flipped around in mid air in joy. As the two new chums flew above the clouds, the fisherman said, 'Woah! I can see the Eiffel Tower from here!' Ser Pounce just chuckled.
Suddenly, the fisherman's ecstatic look turned to one of sudden shock! 'But wait! What about my fish?'
Ser Pounce's sudden concern at the plights of his friend changed to a wry smile. 'Why friend, there's plenty more fish in the sea!' They both laugh, before diving under the water to have a whimsical underwater exploration adventure, which we will not discuss here, because Disney is getting awfully close to suing us.
Meanwhile, in the beautiful if poorly utilised land of Dorne, murder and treachery is afoot! For you see, some irrelevant Spanish bitches committed an atrocity most foul against one Doran Martell, and the other guy who I think is called Areo. I don't know. You don't know. Don't pretend you know. If you are a book fan and you claim to know then… why are you reading this? Like, why have you got this far in? In fact, why has anybody got this far in? Like I know it's amazing, but it's also terrible.
Anyway. Murder is bad. Doran is in a bit of a pickle. One could say, he made a right kettle of fish out of this whole not dying malarky. But speaking of fish, our charismatic hero and his fishy friend are here to help!
'Gee, Ser Pounce, is that a dead body?'
'No, dear fisherman,' said Ser Pounce. 'That is TWO dead bodies.' He nodded sagely. Truly an excellent observation from our great leader.
'What a jarring juxtaposition to the previously whimsical nature of this adventure!'
'Indeed.' He took off his flight goggles and rushed to the scene of the murder. Yeah they're on foot now. They landed a while ago. They had their own adventure, it was great. The fisherman has got like, a real big fish to prove it. He has it in a big plastic bag, but we're not going to bring it up again, because it's not beneficial to the story. We just felt the need to make this clear, should any potential readers feel the need of being pedantic about the story's continuity. Though I don't see why you would, seeing as so far it's nitpick-proof.
'My dear fisherman, help me with this man! Hold his left leg whilst I give him the Kiss of Life!'
'B-but, Ser Pounce! You're so small! And a cat! Your lungs are probably quite small, and the probability of you reviving this man with mouth-to-mouth would have been unlikely even if you were a human, because of that huge fucking stab wound in his chest! Are you sure this will work?'
Ser Pounce looked at the fisherman with a serious look. 'Fisherman, what I know is that when a person is in need, the power of love will always prevail.' The fisherman, awestruck by such beautiful words, kept silent, and held the leg as instructed.
Ser Pounce started licking Doran's face, and then Doran's eyes opened once more! Holy shit!
'W-what?' queried Doran, looking around him for those irrelevant Spaniards. 'What happened?'
'I don't know what's happened to you previously, but you have a new life now.' Ser Pounce put his paw on Doran's shoulder. 'For inside you, I see adventure! Hope! Bountiful joy! Together, you and I shall ride in your wheelchair throughout the lands, bringing hope to those weak and without hope and terror to those corrupt enough to abuse their power.'
Doran nods, knowing all that has to be said has already been said.
The fisherman says, 'But Ser Pounce! What about this other man? Shall you not save him?'
Ser Pounce looks to an invisible camera. 'No, I don't need to. I don't need to save this guy. He's massive. He's huge. A stab wound in the back like that shouldn't have killed him. It shouldn't have even hurt him all that much. There is no way that he would have died. Stupid writing. Lazy writing. Idiotic foolish bullshit spawned from the scribblings of a fool with no regard for good Dornish characters. Fuck off.'
Areo nods in response. He was, after all, still alive, because this is a serious story with a strong acknowledgement of realism.
As the fisherman puts Doran back in his wheelchair (Ser Pounce couldn't have done something like that, that'd be impossible), Ser Pounce looks off into the distance, hopeful that tomorrow will bring happiness to new people, and smite those who he deems to be cunts.
Gee, I sure hope that these writers will make something of my character, thought Doran as he began to spin the wheels of his wheelchair and clunk down the flight of stairs. Ser Pounce, his trusty sword, the Whisker, in his mouth, followed afterwards.
'But wait! Ser Pounce! What are me and Oreo to do!' cried the fisherman, anguish in his voice.
'Do what you do best, fisherman friend! Make me a fishy meal fit for Zeus himself! That is, presuming Zeus was a fan of fish! I'm not really too well cultured in my Greek mythology, or at least not in that department. As previously established, I am no pious feline, and this isn't even a belief system that is canon in this overall world.' Areo and the fisherman gave Ser Pounce blank looks.
'I'll be back in time for supper!' he said with a laugh. Areo and the fisherman did too. Doran did not, for he was still slightly shaken about having been brought back from the dead, which is understandable.
AND SO BEGAN THE GREATEST ADVENTURE IN THE SEVEN KINGDOMS.
IF YOU GUYS ARE AT ALL INTERESTED IN THIS SHIT, FEEL FREE TO SUBSCRIBE? OR WHATEVER IT IS YOU DO ON THIS FUCKIN WEBSITE? IT'LL BE OUT ROUGHLY EVERY WEEK.
PLUS, IF YOU LIKED THIS QUALITY CONTENT, CHECK OUT OUR PREVIOUS WORKS. THEY'RE SIGNIFICANTLY WORSE THAN THIS. AND TWO OF THEM ARE NOT FINISHED. ONE OF THEM IS ABOUT MATERIAL MOST OF YOU WILL NOT UNDERSTAND. BUT THEY'RE ALL 100% CANON WITH THE OVERALL SONG OF ICE AND FIRE CANON, NO DOUBT ABOUT THAT. REST EASY LITTLE ONE.
FUCK OFF.
BYE.