A sad sad end

Jehoshaphat and I went up to Ramoth Gilead with our armies. I told Jehoshaphat that I will enter the battle in disguise while he wears his royal robes.

The battle BEGINS! The chariot commander of Aram was attacking us. He chased Jehoshaphat, thinking that Jehoshaphat was me instead. But then when Jehoshaphat cried out, the chariot commander realized that he wasn't the king of Israel and stopped pursuing him. Just then, someone drew his bow at random and struck me between the sections of my armor with it. Wow! One in a million times that would happen, and it just had to happen to me. I told my chariot driver to wheel me around and get me out of the fighting because I have been wounded. All day long the battle went on, leaving poor old me propped up against my chariot facing the Arameans. The blood from my wound ran onto the floor of the chariot leaving a pool of blood. Ewwww! That evening I died. As the sun was setting, a cry spread through the army: "Every man to his town; everyone to his land!"

So the king of Israel, I, died and was buried in Samaria. Men washed the chariot at a pool in Samaria, the place where the prostitutes would bathe. As the prophet Micaiah prophesied, the dogs came and licked up my blood. Ahaziah, my son, succeeded me as king, and I hope that he would continue the legacy my wife and I had begun.

p.s. Continued by me, Ahaziah, in the eyes of my father in honor to him.