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A Game of Hodor: Chapter V

There are mornings when I wake up and have to wonder if perhaps I unknowingly made a great enemy of some vengeful god at some point in my life. I awoke this morning to a direwolf attempting to breed with my cloak whilst I was wearing it.  Just a warm, vaguely damp urgency at my side and then I awake and oh joy, a lupine penis about the size of my forearm.  And I’m a large man.

I’ve grown less than fond of these woods and the lecherous Wildlings housed therein.  Yesterday we were pursued extensively by cries of “squeal like a pig!  Squeeeeeeeal like a pig!” as we made haste away from a particularly unsavory group. The little lords of course weren’t entirely aware of the implicit meaning in that awful command, but I’ve listened to enough of Old Nan’s nastier stories to know those fellows meant us ill.  Quite ill.  Butt boy ill.

I hate to diverge onto a tangent here, but would like to point out that, if someone had written books about Westeros, you’d very likely find the term “butt boy” several times in the 5th book, which just seems bizarre, doesn’t it?  It does.

If I’m being honest, the very nature of the term “butt boy” in this world is just eerie, don’t you think.  I mean, obviously in such a setting we can’t very well apply a term that is entirely lacking in the given context.  For instance, a gibberish word like “homosexual” has no meaning in my world, why would I even think it?  What is that prefix, Greek?  That’s not even a language, why would I even suggest it?  And something like sodomite, well that has no basis in reality either as it’s not as those a place might exist, some manner of city for instance, that could serve as the root for that word, either.  And why would anyone dream of co-opting the word gay for such a thing?  Quite troubling to ponder.  I would seriously need to sit down and put some effort into considering exactly what would qualify as an appropriate term, in this context, for a man who has relations with another man.

Of course, the relevancy of this is also questionable, I’m on the run for my life after all and it seems entirely possible an evil, world-destroying force is brewing (from the direction in which I’m travelling no less) so why should I care?  The answer is Hodor.  Ass shit crap Hodor.

I can’t converse about the weather, I can’t voice my opinions.  May as well pondered the deeper philosophical conditions of life.  What should you call a butt boy?  If some people believe they can see your soul rising from your body is you are stabbed in the dead of winter, what is it that rises from poop?  Your poop’s soul?  Just a phantom that had been haunting your ass?

Ahh, I have too much free time.  Hodor.

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