Drogon flew and flew.

What was wrong with all these garbage people, he thought. Drogon could totally think things like this because he was a completely sentient being.

He also wanted to know why no one spelled his name right. In his mind, he was named DRAGON (because he was a dragon!), and all of it was in caps. Caps being a thing they had in the imaginary Middle Ages, to make things sound important. But that wasn’t his name in Game of Thrones so we’ll just go with it.

Anyway, Drogon was annoyed because my husband informed me that he just kind of flew away at the end, and now he was going to have to find a new place to live. (AND SOMEONE KILLED HIS MOM. WHAT THE FUCK.)

It was okay, though, because soon he got to Tahiti.

In Tahiti the sword throne, or whatever, didn’t matter, and Drogon was the only one there who could fly.

That was pretty cool, and he eventually developed a side-gig where he flambéed whales and dragged them out to eat, and this became a popular attraction for everyone else who was there / was hungry. In a little-known subplot, he also brought some of the people whose names I can spell to Tahiti.

Drogon, and the people of Tahiti, and the various other Games of Thrones characters (…Elton? Jimmy? Mensa?) lived happily ever after, and no one ever peer-pressured me to watch this show again. Everyone was happy.

I guess except the whales, because they were flambéed.

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Elizabeth McMunn-Tetangco lives in California’s Central Valley, where she works as a librarian and co-edits One Sentence Poems, an online journal. She also writes poetry, and has published three chapbooks, Various Lies, Lion Hunt, and Water Weight.