A TIME FOR CLEARING YOUR MIND

Being another shameless parody in one act.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Brother Sandor Clegane: Age 28. Big guy, the left side of his face is covered in burn scars. Wears his long black hair swept sideways. Raspy voice. Walks with a limp because of a wound on his leg.
Elder Brother: Age 44. Also a big guy, previously a military commander.

The scene is the inner courtyard of the sept on Quiet Isle. Elder Brother is sitting on a bench, reading a manuscript. ENTER Brother Sandor Clegane.

E.B.: Oh, it’s you, Brother Sandor! How’s your leg today?
S.C.: (mumbles something)
E.B.: I’m afraid I didn’t catch that…
S.C.: I said it’s getting better.
E.B.: Good. Why don’t you sit down?
S.C.: (sits down on the bench) Well?
E.B.:  You know, everytime I start a conversation with you I know right away it will either lead to your brother or a certain highborn lady… But I’m making the others respect the vow of silence. You’re a special case, since you’re only here in temporary hiding and that makes you the only one I can talk to.
S.C.: What would you have me talk about then? It’s Gregor’s fault I am what I am… And Lady’s Sansa’s very existence only reminds me of that.
E.B.: Oh, do you see what you’re doing here? You’re projecting everything that’s wrong about your own personality onto your mental image of your brother. And not to mention you’re trying to deny any good thing about yourself. You just take every nice, unselfish tought and try to push it into your subconscious.
S.C.: My what?
E.B.: Subconscious. According to the theory of Maester Sigmund Freud…
S.C.: Bugger your Maester Sigmund!
E.B.: If you say “bugger” one more time…
S.C.: You just said it yourself!
E.B.: Only to point out what you’re not supposed to say!
S.C.: Well, you did say it, so you might as well knock your own teeth out!
E.B.: I was not going to knock your teeth out! We’re a peaceful order!
S.C.: And what were you going to do then?
E.B.: Make you respect the vow of silence!
S.C.: Fine by me.
E.B.: Fine.
(Both are silent)
S.C.: So, have I told you about the time I rescued the Lady Sansa from the mob?
E.B.: Not anytime during the past two hours, Brother Sandor. I’m afraid I forgot some of the details in that particular story.
S.C.: Are you being ironic?
E.B.: Well, if you say so. That was very chivalrous, though.
S.C.: What? Chivalrous? I am no knight! Thanks to Gregor…
E.B.: See, here you go again! You need to stop finding excuses.
S.C.: What excuses?
E.B.: Like, I say you need anger management, you say you can’t help it because your brother burned half of your face off when you were seven. I say it wasn’t nice to try to ravage the Lady Sansa, you say you were drunk.
S.C.: I *was* drunk! And I didn’t do anything!
E.B.: You thought about it!
S.C.: Well, it’s just that I like her so much! And she’s so pretty and all… She’ll never like me, no matter what I do… It was driving me insane, you see! (breaks into tears)
E.B.: (patting S.C.’s shoulder) There, there, Brother Sandor!
S.C.: (sobs)
E.B.: Brother Sandor, you’re going to have to stop that, or else some people might say you’re an emo.
S.C.: What’s an emo?
E.B.: A guy with black hair swept sideways who feels sorry for himself.
S.C.: You might have missed the reason my hair is swept sideways… The other side of my scalp is covered in burns… Because my own brother burned my face when I was seven and got away with it!… And now Sansa can’t even bear to look at me! (sobs)
E.B.: There you go! Feeling sory for yourself again!
S.C.: Well, why shouldn’t I? (sob) First my brother, then I had to serve the Lannisters (sob) of all people (sob) and I had to watch them beat the girl I have a crush on! (sob) Then, they made her marry that bloody dwarf!
E.B.: Brother Sandor!
S.C.: Sorry… And now at least she’s run away from the dwa… I mean, from Tyrion… But no one knows where she is and I’ll never see her again!
E.B.: (clears his throat): I might have mentioned I once fought alongside Prince Rhaegar Targaryen on the Trident.
S.C.: You might have. So what?
E.B.: Well, as a former military commander, I kept the ability to, you know, gather information…
S.C.: And?
E.B.: By the Seven, Brother Sandor! You can’t understand anything! I was trying to hint that I might, just might, have some information about the Lady Sansa’s whereabouts.
S.C. (jumps up) What?... Ouch! My leg!
E.B.: Be careful, will you?
S.C.: Bugger… Uhm, sorry.. I mean… Where is she? Where?
E.B.: Apparantly, she’s in The Vale with the Lord Petyr Baelish, who’s changed her name and has her masquerading as his bastard daughter. He thought no one will ever suspect anything…
S.C.: Why that…
E.B.: He intends to have her married to the heir to the Vale at the beginning of the next year. He’ll declare her marriage to Tyrion Lannister invalid, since it wasn’t consummated.
S.C.: You mean she and the dwarf didn’t… You know…
E.B.: Apparantly not.
S.C.: Good. I might let the bastard stay alive for now… Can I leave tomorrow?
E.B.: No, you cannot.
S.C.: Listen, Brother! I will get to Sansa even if I have to…
E.B.: Now, now! What have I told you about anger management? We still have plenty of time until next year, the Vale is quite nearby and the Seven know you need to solve your issues… As a matter of fact, our gravedigger just passed away, isn’t that ironic?... We need a replacement and you’ll see that gravedigging is a surprisingly relaxing activity. You’ll find a spade…
S.C.: (interrupts) What? Waste all this time digging graves?
E.B.: All this time will not be wasted. Now is a time for clearing your mind.
S.C.: So, if I clear my mind, will you let me go and try to find Sansa?
E.B.: Only after you clear your mind.
S.C.: Where is that spade?