My Proposal for The Final Scene of Game of Thrones
Sam Tarly is the only one left standing after the Last War, covered in significant sweat and muck. The field of battle is littered with corpses of characters, we’ve come to know and love, in various states of dismemberment. Close up: Sam squeezing his eyes shut. Fade out.
Then, fade in. It’s a hazy, hot summer afternoon. We pan in past a dated-looking sign — “The Shoppes at Westeros” — towards a comic store in a sleepy, semi-occupied strip mall in Tallahassee, Florida. “Neckbeard’s Comic Shop.” Wedged in between other rundown stores (Cersi’s Nails, Fire and Ice Sno-cones, The Night King of Mattresses, Hound Rotisserie Chickin’, Skip Horack’s Vapery, Iron Bank Payday Loans, etc.), we find our hero Sam, head on a laptop, asleep at his post, manning the counter in a dust-covered shop. In the foreground, a table is set up with a large map from some late-night Warhammer gaming, a paper coffee cup, a mead horn, Fritos bags, etc. The shot dimly recalls the opening credits.
And, behind him, various comic store paraphernalia: swords, battle axes, a large Yoda with a lightsaber and the face of Peter Dinklage, comics in plastic bags, a three-eyed raven, dire wolves, many dragon models, etc., etc., other visual echoes of GOT.
Sam wakens and gasps, he is wearing an “I want to believe” T-Shirt from X-files with a flying saucer on it. There’s some of an imprint of a keyboard on his face.
What a dream!
He has an American accent…
I was some kind of graduate student in this crazy medieval kingdom. There were intrigues and betrayals. A mad king, noble houses at war for a crazy iron throne, ravens, rape, incest, gratuitous sex, dire wolves, dragons, zombies. Everyone had a beard. So many major characters you really cared about, then heads on spikes, the world-building was incredible, but it wasn’t just for nerds. Everyone was watching it . . . Jon, it was amazing.
The camera turns to left, there’s a guy there, sitting in an Iron Throne-style prop chair, reading a vintage, giant-size Conan the Barbarian. It’s Kit Harington, wearing glasses, a large foam soda cup with a red straw in the throne’s cup-holder. He has an American accent, too.
C’mon, Sam, you know nothing.
The bell rings from the door. In walks Emilia Clarke dressed in full GOT gear, the blue dress from season whatever, the one Madonna borrowed. Both Sam and Jon look up, then at the camera. Sitcom laugh track.
You guys sell toy dragons? I need the final touch for my cosplay outfit for Comicon.
Sam and Kit both groan.
They’re not toys, they’re models.
Cut. Cue theme music. Cellos.