Arya… uhh… I mean “Cat of the Canals” wakes up after having a dream about being a wolf, searching for her mother in the rain, crying, and a dog-headed monster (you know, The Hound).
Cat: I’m not Arya. I’m Cat. I shouldn’t have wolf dreams. I need to leave that all behind.
She shakes it off and heads off to the fish market, where she finds Brusco, her oyster-selling hookup.
Brusco: Ah yes. Here we are! I need you to sell all of these oysters, clams and cockles for me again.
Cat: Sweet. I’m going to sell the hell out of this seafood. So far I’ve been doing a great job at this, as time has passed since my last chapter and you should now assume I’ve been doing this for a while. I will be long remembered a great seafood salesperson! They will call me the shellfish queen!
As she walks to go find some prime cockle-selling territory, she thinks upon some instructions that the Kind Old Man told her to do.
Kind Old Man: I want a girl to learn three new things, every time she goes out. When she comes back to the temple, I want her to tell those three things.
Cat: Oh, cool. I can do that.
Cat goes out, sells shellfish, and comes back home.
Kind Old Man: Tell me three things that a girl learned today.
Cat: Tom Brady is cheater. “Basileus” is a Greek title used for various types of monarchs throughout its history. Falsohyllisia meridionale is a species of beetle in the family Cerambycidae.
Kind Old Man: Good, good. And who are you?
Cat: No One.
The Kind Old Man shakes his head at her.
Kind Old Man: Liar.
Cat: Yeah, what a cool flashback. Anyway, I think I’ll head to the Ragman’s Harbor. That’s where all non-Braavosi ships must dock. I assume it’s related to customs and immigration duties or something. Does Braavos have customs and immigration control? I’m not sure if that’s a thing that it does, but it seems like even medieval societies should have stuff like that. Anyway, basically everyone is there and it will be super crowded. Plus they probably have long lines with declaring the goods and everything. Great place to sell this food.
She hangs out there, and there are a whole bunch of people with different nationalities. Basically, they swear and drink and tell offensive stories. She learns all kinds of cool stories about mummers and thieves and whores that she can tell to the Kind Old Man.
She walks up to a ship named the Brazen Monkey, where the crew is offloading their stuff.
Cat: Hey there. You wanna buy some oysters? I gots those good oysters, shorty! Along with horseradish sauce, vinegar, Crystal Hot Sauce… pretty much whatever you want.
Sailor: Oysters? Sure, I’ll have some. But what I could really go for is a good whore.
Cat: Oh yeah, the best whores are these ones down on 24th canal at a place called Merry’s. They are the tops. I’m not just saying that because they often buy cockles from me and are generally nice to me. Say, do you have any news about the war in the Seven Kingdoms? It looks like you guys just came in from Westeros.
Sailor: War? We ain’t see no war there. Not in the Vale, anyway. That boy who’s ruling there won’t get involved, just like his dead mom.
Cat: Oh. Dead mom, huh? Lady Lysa?
Sailor: *nods*
Cat: Hrm. If I were Arya Stark, I might feel something about that. But I’m not Arya Stark, so I don’t care about that dead lady. I’m Cat of the Canals.
Sailor: Let’s be honest here, even if you WERE Arya Stark you’d have felt nothing for Lysa because you didn’t really know her, never wanted to go to her when the Hound or Beric were trying to take you there, and you would be generally dead inside and unable to care about anyone or anything.
Cat: These are fair points. That will be a piece of silver for the oysters, please.
That night, Cat goes to Merry’s brothel. She’s looking to sell more oysters, because even in this fantasy world guys think oysters get them horny for hooker sex. As she stated, the ladies are nice and sometimes they buy her cockles too.
Cat: Oysters! Clams! Cockles! Ost… OH SHIT. Is that the “Dareon” asshole from the Night’s Watch again? I should ask him what he’s up to. I haven’t seen him since that night that that big, fat dude beat the shit out of him and got thrown out into the water. Sam? Something like that. I’m not good with names.
Dareon: Let me sing you all a beautiful song about a lady in a castle tower, and a person that she loved died, and so she threw herself out of it.
Cat: Ugh. That’s a dumb story. I would hate to listen, or ever care about, a story where a woman loses a man she loves and then throws herself out of a tower. Although it sounds strangely familiar. If I were Arya Stark, and if Arya Stark’s father Ned was alive, I would ask him if that sounds like a lame story. I bet he’d agree that it is. That sounds exactly like the type of story my dad would hate and would be totally uninterested in.
Dareon: Oh, little girl who sells oysters! I’ve seen you before, right?
Cat: Sure. Whatever. You’re kind of a dick.
Dareon: A dick that is GOING PLACES, little girl. OH YEAH! I’ve got a bright future ahead! A long, long, bright future! Right now I’m playing at a shitty, hole-in-the-wall whorehouse full of nasty bitches with c-section scars. But the kind of money I’m raking in now… I’ll be at one of those high-class brothels with fancy courtesans wearing silk robes! The type of girls who don’t even have STDs!
Cat: Whatever. Hey. Did that fat guy ever board his ship to Oldtown? I know he wanted to go there with the old, dying guy friend of his.
Dareon: UGH. WHO CARES?! Fuck that asshole and fuck the Night’s Watch! I’m not with them anymore. See how I don’t wear black? I’m wearing fine peacock feathers and stuff. All flashy as hell. And look at these boots. These boots are expensive as hell. Very pricy and sophisticated. These are Alexander McQueen, baby.
Cat: They kind of look like they came from the ladies’ section.
Dareon: Maybe. The point is, forget the Watch and forget their young Lord Commander, that shitty Jon Snow asshole. I hope he chokes and dies, the stupid dick.
Cat: …
Dareon: What? Why’d you get all quiet?
Cat: I… uhh… hey. It’s pretty dark in here. I really want to get a better look at those fancy boots of yours. Maybe we should head outside and look at them in the moonlight.
Dareon: That’s a GREAT IDEA! My outfit looks bangin’ out there in the moonlight.
And so they head out into an alley behind the brothel.
Later that night, Cat returns to Brusco, her oyster-selling boss.
Cat: Here you go, this is how much money I made today. Oh, I also found this awesome pair of boots. You can have them.
Brusco: Hrm. They’re not my size. But… HEY!... are these Alexander McQueen?
Cat: Yeup.
Brusco: I can probably sell them. Nice. You did good work today, Cat.
Cat: No probs, boss.
She then heads back to the House of Black & White to hang out with her murder/assassin club friends.
Cat: Hey Waif!
Waif: Hi Arya.
Cat: I’m not Arya. I’m No One.
Waif: Whatever bitch. Today I’m going to teach you all about poisons. Like poisons that you put in someone’s bowl of milk to kill them.
Cat: Cool beans.
Waif: This first one is really sweet and tasty. It makes people die peacefully.
Cat: Okay.
Waif: This next one is called the Tears of Lys. It’s pretty vicious. It makes you die slow and painfully, like—
Cat: —Please, no need to explain what the Tears of Lys are for me now. It’s already been pretty well explained so far in this Jingle. Also, don't get it mixed up with "The Strangler" either. That's a different one.
The Waif then slaps her in the face.
Cat: Ow! What was that for?!
Waif: You’re chewing your lip like Arya Stark does. You need to not be like Arya Stark. You need to learn to hide the truth. Like me.
Cat: How? Teach me!
Waif: Here, watch my face. *ahem* I once hung out backstage with Radiohead during their “Hail To The Thief” tour. It was back in August of 2003. Their show at the Shoreline Amphitheatre in Mountain View, California. But Colin Greenwood, who is the biggest dick in the band, was being a dick as usual. So I hit him with his stupid bass guitar and ran off.
Cat: Okay. What am I supposed to do with all of that info?
Waif: I told two lies in that story. Based on my face, tell me what the lies were.
Cat: Ah. Let’s see. Uhm… you looked a bit weird when you said “back in August of 2003.” Like there was the slightest twitch in your eye.
Waif: Good catch. Radiohead actually played at the Shoreline Amphitheatre in SEPTEMBER of 2003, not August. I’m surprised you noticed that. I gotta work on my game a little more. Okay, so what was my other lie?
Cat: I didn’t see you make any facial expression, but you called Colin Greenwood the biggest dick in the band. That’s straight up a lie because everybody knows Thom Yorke is the biggest dick in Radiohead.
Suddenly there is slow clapping. Cat of the Canals looks up, and the Kind Old Man is there.
Kind Old Man: Good, very good. A girl has done well. Now, a girl should tell me three things she has learned today.
Cat: The town of Kiuruvesi in the Northern Savonia region of Finland has a population of 8,196 and covers an area of 1,422.90 square kilometers. Does that count as one thing or two?
Kind Old Man: That’s one. Now give me a second.
Cat: A bunch of sailors got into a fight on a ship in the port. They said they’re never coming back, but I think they’re coming back because they need the money.
Kind Old Man: A girl thinks they’re coming back, or a girl knows they’re coming back? Because a girl has been told to tell me things he knows. Not things she thinks.
Cat: I think. Sorry. Does it still count?
Kind Old Man: Yes, the part about the fight counts since a girl knows that happened. Now tell me a third thing.
Cat: Dareon the Singer from the Night’s Watch got brutally murdered. The killer stabbed his body 46 times and then cut it up into little pieces. The killer threw his pieces into the ocean and laughed, calling him, “Chum.” The joke was funny because “chum” is cut up pieces of meat typically fed to marine life, but it also means “friend.” The killer stole Dareon's boots and Brusco has them now.
Kind Old Man: Who was the killer of this Dareon?
Cat: That’s a fourth thing you want to know. I thought I only had to tell you three things. You really seem to be bending the rules here.
Kind Old Man: WHO KILLED HIM?
Cat: Arya, of House Stark.
Kind Old Man: How unexpected that Arya of House Stark has returned after being gone for so long. Who are you?
Cat: No One.
Kind Old Man: Fucking bullshit. Here. Drink this milk.
Cat: This milk?
Kind Old Man: Yes. This milk. Right here.
Cat: But the Waif was just talking about poisoning milk.
Kind Old Man: A girl did say that. Didn't she?
Cat: Ah, fuck it. Sure. Life is meaningless anyway.
She gulps up the bowl of milk and goes to bed. She dreams of being a wolf again. But this time she has no pack. It’s just her.
She wakes up the next morning.
Cat: Oh, that was unexpected. I thought I’d be dead. Hey. Who turned out the lights?
She’s blind.
Cat: WHAT?! OH FUCK.
No comments:
Post a Comment