SO USUALLY WE HAVE SOME SORT OF GIANT-ASS PARAGRAPH WRITTEN AT THE TOP HERE

TALKING ABOUT SOME SHIT OR ANOTHER

AND SOMETIMES WE HAVE A CHAPTER DEDICATION

BUT THE THING IS, NO ONE READ THE FIRST FUCKING CHAPTER

BUT Y'KNOW, THESE THINGS TAKE TIME

ALL GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO WAIT AND ALL THAT GOOD SHIT

BUT IN THE MEAN TIME, LET'S JUMP RIGHT IN

OH WAIT, ACTUALLY, WE NEED TO SAY

THAT THIS IS, HANDS DOWN, THE DUMBEST FUCKING THING WE'VE EVER WRITTEN

BUT LIKE, FOR COMPLETELY DIFFERENT REASONS TO EVERYTHING ELSE

WE ARE LEGITIMATELY PROUD OF THIS

IT WILL NEVER BE SURPASSED

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

CHAPTER 2 - Cunts in the Smelly Face House

We open this chapter on a magnificent statue, a statue of three giant bears caught in an eternal struggle. It was no doubt a magnificent structure, and yet it connoted a feeling of despair, seeing as it represented the inevitability and yet futility of conflict in the wider world of men. Pod looked on in interest, and then farted for comedic effect.

'So where ah we gonna find this fookin' hand?!' asked Bronn, looking over at the bears that were piling coal into the roaring furnace of the Moving Brothel.

'Well, we were given a riddle, were we not?' asked Tyrion. Except he wasn't really asking, seeing as it was a rhetorical question. 'Why, when I was a boy, back in my Punslinging days, which are now far behind me due to my walking along the downtrodden path of Um Bongo addiction, we would have a bi-monthly event known as 'The Festival of Lies', wherein all the most devious and machiavellian of individuals would crowd together in a big tent and yell ambiguous and enigmatic things at one another. And from this, I have honed my riddle-solving skills to levels beyond the understanding of man. I have solved many riddles in my day, including my favourite riddle of all time.'

'Well what tha fook would that be?' asked Bronn, obviously interested in such a important matter.

'What's black and white and red all over?' asked Tyrion. He paused for effect as the others waited in anticipation. 'A panda that got caught in a fist fight!'

'Ah dude, what the fuck?!' yelled Pod. 'You can't talk about endangered species like that. Say someone were to overhear you, and take it literally, and go down to King's Landing's Zoo to beat up some animals?'

'Too fookin' right.' added Bronn, as he polished his panda rights badge. 'I may be degrading to women, but I shan't stand by and let this verbal abuse against pandas go unpunished.'

'Oh shit dude, I'm sorry. I've been in a box for like a month, so I've lost all sense of morality apparently. Let me try and make it up to you by solving this riddle.'

Tyrion furrowed his brow in concentration. 'Look to the finger that points to the heart… it is my belief that this riddle is nothing but devious reverse psychology!' Gasps ensued. 'Yes, my friends. I believe that 'the heart' is referring to love in general, and as we all know through our many sexual conquests, love is anything but BLACK AND WHITE! You see, friends? The use of love was a devious ploy, set up to turn us away from The House of Black and White!'

'That's fookin' ridiculous enough to probably be right!' shouted Bronn. 'To Braavos!'

MEANWHILE

There was some gosh-darn dubious shit going down in the sinister lair of the scrupulous scamp that is Littlefinger! He was sitting at his desk and flicking through his phonebook of antagonists. Like the Yellow Pages, but it's evil, so it's called the Red Pages. Our talent at writing is wasted here. Unfortunately, Littlefinger's good friend Jafar had been unable to make it back from Arabia, and even if he could, he was already rolling in the dosh thanks to his revolutionary meth empire, so he was out of the picture.

Suddenly, he saw that all his stationary was being knocked on the floor. Gosh darn it, he thought to himself. That damn undead mercenary he was creating was jiving out and doing the worm on his table. 'Fiddlesticks! Calm yourself, you outrageous scallywag!' cried Littlefinger, whilst flicking through the pages. Then, his eyes lit up, as his finger (which was quite little) fell onto the name of the most devious of antagonists; Count Dracula!

MEANWHILE

It was midday in Braavos, and the marketplace was jostling with excitement, because the budget was high enough to pay for a large amount of extras for filming that day. Tyrion, Bronn and Pod were seated in a gondola, as Pod rowed them along the serene waterway. Bronn was playing a lute and serenading Tyrion with a poignant love ballad, whilst Tyrion was trying to disguise his blushing by smearing tomato on his face. Their tiny boat rolled up to The House of Black and White, where upon they were greeted by a giant-ass pair of doors.

'Hey, guys. I was wondering why this building is called 'The House of Black and White' when the only parts of it that are black and white are the doors,' pondered Tyrion.

'These are the mysteries,' responded Pod. 'It's also worth mentioning that this building seems unnecessarily huge and expansive for a building that a) supposedly only holds a few members of an incredibly secretive and inconspicuous order or assassins, and b) has such a tiny door. But I guess we may never know. Let us enter.'

And so the three of them bumbled towards the door. They tried knocking, but no one answered within five seconds, so they assumed that the Faceless Men must be out getting lunch or something, so they let themselves in. Upon entry, they were greeted with a most foul and repulsive stench, one that shook their very being and seemed to choke them and surround them in a disgusting miasma of toxicity and pestilence.

'Did you just fookin' fart, Pod?' laughed Bronn. Tyrion high-fived him. (Or low-fived him, if you want to be pedantic about the issue).

The building was indeed not black and white. Rather, it was a putrid green, and also a few shades of other not very aesthetically appealing colours like brown or magenta or something. All in all, the decor left a lot to be desired. The floor was a viscous cesspit of foul-looking sludge, that stuck to the soles of the trio's shoes as they walked down the corridor.

The floor started bubbling, and out rose a man wearing a plain nondescript (but also notably slimy) robe. As the man slugged towards them, he shouted 'I am the Smelly Face Monk, Monk of the Smelly Faces!' His face was white and pasty, his face was angular and pointy, and his nose flopped down into a stubby trunk that waved as he spoke.

The trio paused for a second. 'Well, fuck,' said Tyrion. 'It appears we've made a grave mistake.'

'Excuse me, but are we mistaken in believing that this is The House of Black and White?' asked Pod.

The Smelly Face Monk chuckled heartily. 'No, my acolytes! This is the Smelly Face House! We split the rent with the frat boys who live in The House of Black and White so that we can share the building! You entered through the wrong side of the building, so you ended up here! Why'd you think the building was so bloody big, eh? You came in through the wrong door, you silly plonker! But don't worry, we have much more fun here!'

The trio followed the Smelly Face Monk as he trudged onwards, still talking. 'Those dweebs on the other side have just got a load of grim assassins who dispel their own identities and kill in the name of the Many Faced God, whilst we have a swamp, not to mention a giant axolotl! Cor, imagine that! And we have a gallery of smelly faces that we bathe in garlic juice with our garlic love! I've got nothing against those guys next door, but it wouldn't hurt them to come and party with the gang of the Smelly Faced God! I mean, it wouldn't hurt old Jaqen to come and say hello to his little brother Noel H'Ghar every once in a while!'

'Err, I'm sorry to interrupt,' butted in Tyrion. 'But we have a dire need to solve a riddle, so if you could help us out, that would be very much appreciated!'

Noel nodded. 'I know of a certain GIANT AXOLOTL that can help you out. Don't worry, he's the smartest giant axolotl in the whole world!' he said, with wonder in his eyes. Noel whistled, and a giant green face emerged from the muck. It was flat and simplistic, like a cheap paper plate mask, but its skin glistened with a shiny layer of slime, and it smiled at Noel.

'Y'right, Noel?'

'Y'right, Jeremy? Me and these fellas need to go and see the huge axolotl, for riddle-solving purposes!'

'Aye-aye, Noel! It's a good thing you arrived when you did! The huge axolotl just finished his sudoku book, and so he's in a proper problem-solving mood! Hop on gang!'

And so the gang hopped onto Jeremy, and they sailed on down the gooey river.

MEANWHLE

Littlefinger was busy drawing a picture of a sad kitten (using gel pens that he stole from his sister Bigtoes), when he heard the familiar ding-dong of the doorbell. He looked up from his drawing with glee, and stuck it with all the others on the fridge. Hopefully, Count Dracula would appreciate his noticeably evil artwork.

He skipped down the corridor, past the pile of skewered heads, and swung open the door to gaze upon his new colleague. And he was so shocked, he had to take a step back! It was… Bela Lugosi!

'Hello,' said Bela.

Littlefinger shut the door. He thought that he would almost cry. This isn't the real Dracula! He was hoping for Christopher Lee, of the Hammer Horror films fame! But instead he'd gotten the actor from the Universal films that came twenty-four years before! How could he cope with such a charlatan in his presence?

However, whilst Littlefinger was indeed evil and devious, he wasn't one to be rude, so he opened the door to greet his new guest. 'I'm sorry, B-Bela, but there was a bee on the door that I had to put outside.'

'Ah, I see,' said Bela. 'Those dang bees, eh? Always stinging children and being a nuisance!' He laughed to himself. Littlefinger laughed too, but deep down he was oh so sad, as bees were his favourite animal and he valued their role as natural pollinators. 'Please, make yourself at home!' said Littlefinger, gesturing for Bela to come inside. 'Could I offer you some coffee or tea?'

'No thanks, I only drink… BLOOD!' said Bela, laughing to himself. Littlefinger grimaced on the inside. Christopher Lee would have given a normal fucking response, he thought. 'I'm joking, of course. Do you have any Um Bongo?' Littlefinger grimaced again. He only had a vintage carton that he'd saved from his wedding night, that he didn't want to break out for such a menial occasion, but he knew that a Um Bongo refusal would be a social faux pas of the highest caliber. He went to the fridge to fetch the carton, whereupon Bela spotted Littlefinger's artwork.

'Haha, those are very lovely drawings! Did your little sister do them?' asked Bela. Littlefinger fumed on the inside. 'Yes', he forced himself to say. 'They were drawn by my ordinary sister with ordinary-sized fingers.' Littlefinger could tell that he was going to be slightly peeved by the next few sessions of evil-doing.

MEANWHILE

'So, how's the wife, Jeremy?' asked Noel.

'Y'know, not too bad.'

'And how's the job doing you? I heard you got a promotion recently!'

'Yes, Barbara was very pleased. In all honesty, I think the job is a bit lacklustre. But, y'know, I'm a giant face, and work's a bit hard to find, so you count your blessings. I guess it could be a lot worse. I could be one of those faces in the next building over, blu-tacked to a wall for ages and occasionally be taken down to be worn as a mask by some random dude who doesn't even ask about my day. They don't even have garlic juice baths there! I couldn't imagine life without my morning garlic juice bath!'

'Cor, imagine that! I know the feeling Jeremy. A good warm garlic juice bath really wakes me up for the day ahead.' The two chuckled to each other. 'Well, here's me stop. Thanks for the ride. Send my regards to Barbara and the kids, won't you?'

Jeremy laughed. 'Of course, Noel. Barbara loves hearing from you. You're quite the chivalrous gentleman. Send my love to the huge axolotl!' And with one final wave (despite the fact that Jeremy does not have hands), the two parted ways.

'So where's this fookin' axolotl then?' asked Bronn.

'He's just up here,' said Noel, pointing towards a slimy cottage. 'We've just got to ring his doorbell and he'll let us in and impart with ages-old wisdom.' Noel pushed down on the doorbell, and a jingling tune played from inside the house. The door opened, and a huge axolotl stood there on two legs. His pink skin glistened slightly. It was a sight to behold. Such a beautiful creature, thought Pod.

'Hello there, huge axolotl!'

'Hello there, Noel!' The huge axolotl spoke in a civilised manner, with a slight appealing cadence to his voice and a jolly charm to his demeanour.

'I have found some weary travellers, who have sought your great wisdom and riddle-solving capabilities!'

'Well golly. Come along now, travellers, let me hear this riddle.'

And so Tyrion told him the riddle. The huge axolotl concentrated for a second, his bulbous feeler things pulsing with thoughtful bioluminescence. He then opened his wisdom-filled eyes and looked at them. 'Well, I'll be damned. In all my days as the riddle master, I have never found a riddle so wrapped in enigma. I simply cannot comprehend it.'

'Well shit,' said the trio in unison.

'However, say one thing for the giant axolotl, say that he will not let a friend go away empty-handed. And so, I will bestow upon you a gift; a vision of the future, to help you on your travels. Will the most level-headed of you step forward.' After some quick arguments and fistfights, it was concluded that Tyrion should be the one to step forward. As he did, the huge axolotl raised one of its stubby arms, and faced its stubby hand towards Tyrion. The lumpy flesh began to reform, and a crude smiling face appeared in the huge axolotl's open palm. The newly-formed face and Tyrion engaged in eye contact, and the surroundings blurred.

Many things passed through Tyrion's head; Podrick's farts, manatees, unending darkness in a world of sorrow, cake, naked ginger forest lasses dancing around a statue of Syrio Forel in a scene vaguely reminiscent of The Wicker Man, except the paganism has been replaced with Forel-ism - but above all, Tyrion saw a phrase, etched into his retinas as they burned so harshly before him. 'BEWARE THE ONE WHO STINKS OF DOG'. He wasn't entirely sure as to what it meant, but such was the nature of ambiguous prophecies.

And then they left.