By: Zack Poitras
Before we proceed any further, His Royal Highness King Joffrey of the Royal House of Lannister requests that, in the unfortunate event that this official document must be read, thoust read it in a high-pitched and whiney, evil tone:
This is the last will and testament of I, King Joffrey, of the House of Lannister. I was informed by my grandfather I had to make one of these wills, though I have every confidence that I will never die. I am king, after all. Who would be stupid and insolent enough to kill me? I won a war for God’s sake, nearly single-handedly!
First off, no one gets my things. They are my things! I love my things. I own a sword and a crown and a pointy chair and a crossbow and no one deserves them except me. I’m not leaving anything to anybody! This will is just a list of commands I want people to carry out in the event I died before I was able to see them all the way through. But I won’t die.
Remember when I said single-handedly earlier? Well, have you seen my uncle Jaime? What a fool, to go and get his hand lost. I’ll start with him. If I die, which I won’t, I leave my uncle a peasant’s hand. Chop one off, from anyone, I don’t care, and send it to him. Then cut off my uncle’s good hand and say “Oh, you thought that peasant hand was for your right stump?! Fool!”
Every day I would like Sansa to receive a package of fine shampoos and oils with a note that reads “Take care of your head – I wish I did! Love, Ned Stark’s Head.” Hahahaha. I’m having my scribe write down a bunch of ha’s right now so you will all know how funny that note idea is.
I want Tyrion to fall in a big pool of mud, and then run around King’s Landing yelling “I’m a little mud man! I’m a little mud man!” That will be good.
Have all the birds killed. I hate birds. Why do they get to fly when I don’t get to fly? I want to fly. Why have I not flown yet?
I would like baby bonnets invented and then I want Tyrion to wear a baby bonnet for the rest of his life.
Tell all the prisoners to dance until one prisoner’s leg actually falls off, lest they shall be urinated on by sick old women until they drown. Yes, yes, I like that.
I want three dogs to eat a baby. Then I want the dogs to be eaten by a bear. Then I want someone to shoot the bear. Then I want the person who shot the bear to be executed. That’s just something I want to see. If I’m dead make that happen and point my corpse’s eyes at it.
If I died on an overcast day, and the weather was over all “meh,” I want my finest warriors to hunt down the clouds that witnessed my death and murder them. Shoot the clouds, curse the clouds, cool the clouds off until they rain themselves dry – I don’t care how it’s done. MURDER THE CLOUDS!
I want someone to find that eunuch bald man, put him in the royal square, surround him with midgets pointing at the space his balls would occupy, and then pour a ton of water on him, so he’s really wet and cold, and then say, “Oh no, ball-less, man, is the ball-less man cold?” Then light him on fire until he dies! Yes. That will be a treat.
If something must be done with my clothes and fine garments, I’ll allow them to be used as smothering rags for old men who smell like dirty coins. I hate old men and I hate that smell! Smother them!
I want all the prostitutes to be crossbow targets for children. Make children shoot the prostitutes! Yes, and never educate those children. But make them go to school anyway. Make them sit in school and listen to the teachers tell them very sad stories so that the children are very sad.
And no more books! I want all books to be cut up into tiny little pieces. Then I want those pieces to be stuffed down Tyrion’s pants while every looks on and laughs and calls him things like “Paper Pants.”
Alright, that’s enough! I’m tired. I’ve talked too much. My mouth hurts. I need to rest my mouth. Fetch my mouth pillow. Stop writing this down! STOP OR I’LL HAVE YOU KILLE-