Game of Moans 2: ‘Hair’

“What can you do for me?,” said Queen Cersei, as she sat in the hairdresser’s chair, considering her barnet.

“I can’t do anything about that,” said The Faceless Man, with suitable camp gesturing; “but I can give you a new face.”

“What are you suggesting about my face?,” said Queen Cersei.

“Um... nothing, Your Grace,” said The Faceless Man.

Queen Cersei flicked a finger in the direction of The Mountain, who popped The Faceless Man’s head like a watermelon.

“There was no need for that,” said Beric Dondarrion, who had just entered the hairdresser’s.

“Says the man waving a flaming sword around in an enclosed space,” said Tormund Giantsbane, who had come in earlier for a quick trim.

“Tish tosh,” said Beric; “This is perfectly safe... oops.”

Whoosh! - went Cersei’s pixie cut, along with her head, in a gout of flame.

“And good riddance,” said Tormund. “Mind the curls!”

“Sorry,” said Gendry the hairdresser.

“Newsflash!,” said the raven who fluttered in and dropped its load on Tormund’s big ginger bonce.

Tormund snatched the bird out of the air, crushed the life out of it and tossed it into a corner.

“Now we won’t know the news,” said Gendry, as he snipped around Tormund’s ears.

“Yes we will,” said Beric, who scooped up the squished raven and unrolled the bit of paper that had been sellotaped to its bum. “Oh...” he said, upon reading the words thereupon.

“Spit it out, man,” said Tormund.

“The Night King is at the wall.”

“What wall?”

“Doesn’t say.”

“Well that’s helpful.”

[ end of part 2 ]