Phil

When in a fight for your life, never call your sentient sword "dimwitted".
Unless, of course, you don't mind fighting without its help.
Dodging the hydra's fourth head with a twist, I swung my heavier-than-normal sword to block the seventh head. "Come on, Phil! I just thought your joke was dumb!"
The sword in my hand went from too heavy to too light just as I took a swing at the fifth head, completely throwing off my strike.
"I never find your jokes to have any point," Phil's voice sang out, emphasizing the last word with a sudden stab at the second head's nose. It gave a shriek and jerked back in pain, while I tried not to groan at the awful pun.
"But why can't you try using jokes with a bit more class? You know, something," I ducked the first head and swung the too light Phil at the sixth, "anything other than puns?"
Phil jerked sideways, and I stumbled just in time to avoid being eaten by the third head.
"Puns are the best form of humor. Five out of seven heads agree." Phil twisted in my hand to redirect head number five into colliding with head number seven.
"But what is the point," I jabbed Phil at the dazed fifth head, "if I'm the only one who can hear you?"
Phil started vibrating in my hand, and an excited humming filled my mind.
"Yes! Now you're getting it! I knew some of my greatness would shine through eventually."
I froze, and if Phil hadn't taken to directing his own blade, the third head would have eaten me. "Wait, you mean that the constant, unending puns was your way of what, molding me to reflect 'your greatness'?"
"And you've been so headstrong about not accepting it," Phil sighed, blade dipping low in disappointment for a second before thrusting forward. All seven hydra heads gave a keening cry before falling limp as Phil pulled himself free from its chest. "You've got to put more heart into your jokes."
Groaning, I turned away from the fallen hydra and wondered if it was too late to trade Phil for that swooning stiletto.