The Chronicles of Theon Pastajoy: The Ballad of the Ultimate Cringe

Winter in Winterfell had turned into a real nightmare. Food stocks were running dry, and Ramsay Bolton, as usual, solved the problem at the expense of the absolute weakest. Pastajoy, being the most pathetic and useless creature around, was tasked with collecting carrion in the areas surrounding the castle. Every day, wrapped in stinking rags, Pastajoy wandered through the snow-buried fields in search of dead animals. The stuff he found was revolting: carcasses ripped apart by wolves, mangled corpses crushed by wagons, frozen bird remains. But a command was a command, and Pastajoy, terrified of being punished, tried to do his job as best he could. He stuffed all his finds into a large, holey sack that he dragged behind him through the snow. The bag was so old and filthy that it emitted a stench you could practically see. One day, heading back to Winterfell with a particularly «juicy» catch, Pastajoy ran into a group of Bolton’s soldiers. As always, they were aggressive and looking for any excuse to mess with the «Diarrhea Geyser.» — Hey, Pastajoy! What’ve you got in the bag? Hope it’s not your guts again! LMAO! — One of the soldiers yelled, smirking mockingly. The other soldiers burst out laughing. ROFL! Pastajoy, hanging his head, tried to shuffle past, but the soldiers blocked his path. — Show us what’s in there! We’re curious to see what you’re snacking on! — Another soldier insisted, shoving Pastajoy in the chest. Pastajoy, realizing that fighting back was pointless, reluctantly pulled open the bag. The stench of decaying meat hit them like a physical blow, making the soldiers wince. — Ugh, gross! What the hell is that? — One of the soldiers barked, peering into the bag. Inside the bag, amidst rotten bones and clumps of fur, lay… a human finger. Severed, blue with frost, with a jagged, broken nail. The soldiers froze in horror. They knew Ramsay Bolton loved a bit of torture, but for someone to be hoarding severed fingers… that was a bit much even for them. — What the hell is this, Pastajoy?! Are you out here killing people?! Collecting trophies?! — One of the soldiers shouted, grabbing the hilt of his sword. Pastajoy, panicking, started stammering out excuses. — No! N-no! I didn’t kill anyone! I found that finger… it was just lying there… in the field! — The soldiers didn’t buy it for a second. They decided that Pastajoy had finally snapped and turned into a cannibal. Without a second thought, they grabbed him and dragged him straight to Ramsay Bolton. — My lord! We caught Pastajoy! He’s out there murdering people and collecting bits of them in a bag! — The squad leader reported. Ramsay, actually looking interested for once, ordered Pastajoy and his bag to be brought closer. Seeing the contents of the bag, Ramsay frowned. He was a monster, sure, but cannibalism was beneath him. — Explain yourself, Pastajoy! What is this filth?! — Ramsay snapped, pointing at the human finger. Pastajoy, shaking like a leaf, repeated his story. He swore on everything he had left that he hadn’t killed anyone and that the finger was just a lucky find. Ramsay thought about it and decided that Pastajoy was probably telling the truth. He knew the creature was too cowardly and weak to actually murder anyone. He’d probably just stumbled across the remains of a wolf’s dinner. But Ramsay wasn’t about to let a perfectly good chance to humiliate Pastajoy go to waste. — Well, Pastajoy, I believe you — Ramsay said, a devilish smirk spreading across his face. — But since you clearly love hoarding gross shit in a bag so much, I’m ordering you to carry that sack with you all day long! So everyone knows you’re a walking dumpster! LOOL! — From that day on, Pastajoy was forced to constantly drag his stinking bag of carrion everywhere. Wherever he went, people turned away in disgust, pointed their fingers, and shouted: — Look! Here comes «What’s-in-the-Bag»! Wonder what trash he found today? LMAO! — The nickname «What’s-in-the-Bag» became yet another brand of shame for Pastajoy, another constant reminder of how low he’d fallen. He was an outcast, a freak, a man despised and feared by all. And even death wouldn’t be able to rid him of this cursed reputation.