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Arthur, of the Roundish Table (Ch-3)
The first meeting of the Royal Cabinet had ended.
The next morning we are treated to an adulterous tryst.
The scene begins in the inner sanctum of the ante anteroom. Lancelot awaits the Queen with trepidation and anticipation whilst the King is hunting with his trust dog Cabal and his sharp-eyed Hawk the Rush. The Queen enters, ever averting her eyes toward her beloved.
Swaying her hips to and fro, fro and to, Gwenivere closes in on Lancelot. Why here? Why are we meeting here today and at this time as high noon approaches and ladies usually seek the comfort of their beds, preparing for the repast?
The King is gone away with a hunting party just a quarter or so ago. Lancelot's eyes caught on the glow of the most beautiful woman in Camelot. Iseult was certainly the most beautiful woman in Cornwall, and, don't get me wrong here, I mean I would not kick her out of the bedding for chomping on bread while sipping her wine, but the Queen was something to behold.
But why here, asked Gwenevere? And exactly what is an ante anteroom?
Why it is before the anteroom.
But the anteroom is the room before. Exactly what room is the anteroom before?
Oh Lancelot, no wonder they call your LanceLOT. The Queen who had heretofore averted her eyes now noticed that Lancelot was buck naked and rather frisky at that!!! So to speak.
Actually you do not pronounce the 'T' where I come from. In Brittany, the T is not pronounced. The correct pronunciation would be LanceLOW.
Not a chance!!! Replied the Queen and suddenly with all enthusiasm she leapt toward him, tripped on her gown and found herself on her knees in from of the great iconof steel and Lancelot too.
At this point there is a break in the action-so to speak-and since this exercise in nonsense is rated PG we shall leave the two lovers to....er...love, so to speak and ...
We next find ourselves in the Royal Forest with the King and Gareth and Gawain.
Why is it Gawain that we seem to have to enter farther and farther into the forest in order to find proper game? I recall that as a child Merlin would take me but 10 paces into the forest and there would be game galore, game galore I say. Deer. Stages with 15-17 points, more points than your brother Gareth could make in a fortnight. And wild boars with huge tusks and smoke coming out of their nostrils.
The supply of game was so great that we let the peasants in our mighty forest to forage for squirrels and rabbits and rodents of all kinds and colors. We called it the trickle down theory of fauna. And as the aristocracy flourished, so did the peons. Kind of a trickle down and peon theory of economics...And then.............
Look over yonder Sire. An omen. A shady man of the woods in long robes carrying a placard. Cried Gareth.
Which yonder, asked the King.
Three o'clock Sire, at Three.
AM or PM?
Wait, I see him. Oh that is just the local ogre. Nothing to fret about laddy.
But what is such a specter doing out here in the middle of nowhere? And what exactly does the sign say, Sire?
He is just an ogre, a member of the Ogre Society a 'spin off' as it were of the Masons. The sign, if you would bother to learn how to read Lingua Latina, says: The End is Near. It seems to be the mantra of a libertarian/conservative group that immerses itself in doom and gloom politics. Every measure taken by Us (that is the Royal We, or I guess in this instance the Royal Us) to improve the Realm is contradicted by members of this sect.
What exactly is a mantra, Sire? Asked Gareth.
Never mind!!! Look, the Stag of Redemption, just over that hill-six o'clock.
But Sire, we are at six o'clock. Gawain noted.
Uh, uh..twelve o'clock nigh. That's it twelve o'clock.
Oh Sire, what a stag, what a magnificent animal. To see such magnificence, only if we could kill it and mount its head over your Regal Chair!!! cried Bedevere who had just joined the group.
Follow me oh royal hunters and we shall pierce it with our finest Royal Arrows. At that the troop galloped and galloped and galloped. Just as the great animal appeared at the top of the hill. Gawain, the best with the cross bow, took the stag into his sights and...fired. Then Gawain remembered at the last moment that he had forgotten to load his cross bow and he proceed to load the best of the weapons of his age and fired at the beast, striking it in the neck.
With a great leap and a jerk, with a jerk and a leap the Mighty Stag lurched and leaned and leaned and lurched and suddenly fell silent unto the ground.
The small troop cheered the exactitude of Gawain's keen archery.
The King cried: I knew there was a reason I kept you and your brother around. Blaise, Blaise, it is time for a song. A song of victory over the Great Stag of the Royal Forest.
Yes Sire:
There lived and reigned on the vernal plane
A Stag the likes that we've never seen
He was stalked and slewn by Sir Gawain
With bow so taut and eyes so keen
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
Upon the hill with the trees so green
Came hunters with the aging King
So deep in forest that we neer been
We grab our prey and we all shall sing
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
We came upon the stag to clean
Disemboweled and about to skin
With knives so sharp and skill so keen
We will give it our all for the aging King
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
What is all this about an aging King. Answer me Blaise.
Er...er..just for scanning purposes Sire, nothing personal in it, nothing personal in it at all.
Besides, I am thirty and three and in this day and age, it really is the new 28. You know Blaise, your singing is so bad you have startled the horses. See, Gareth fell on his back side once again. After this you can do the writing but your uncle Talesian must accompany us for the singing. You are truly as bad at barding as that Dylan guy after a fifth of whiskey and seventy five cigarettes.
What is a cigarette, Sire? Asked Bedivere.
Never mind, go help Gareth and Gawain.
Gawain had already begun the skinning while Gareth was working on the gutting. Gutting is truly a science. The stomach must be opened with much skill and with an eye for the intestines and Gareth was one of those great knights who had the eye for such goings on. Most of the time the other knights would shun Gareth not just for his ignorance which was renowned and sung about throughout the land, but his stench was something that only Gawain could abide after having to sleep with his brother lo these long years.
Back to the action at hand. Gawain had just ripped the belly of the carcus with his gutting knife making a clean slit that began to open wide and all of a sudden, BEHOLD a singing Hedge Hog sprang out of the stag.
From the murder of a great forest hero
I have come from stag to a brand new day
I shall gather my tree hugging friends
And protest this murder with help from the ASPCA
Gawain and Gareth were beside themselves in fear and wonder. Now, most of the time the two brothers were side by side but this time they were side by side in fear and Bedivere was beside himself, which is hard to be when you are most times by yourself. So to speak.
The King cried, This is an Omen. An omen of something great to come.We must all kneel and pray to Our Lord Jesus Christ of the Forest.
All the knights fell to their knees in prayer. Except Gareth and Gawain who were already kneeling do their tasks at hand.
O Lord of all of us please hear our prayers.Help us discover what this omen means.
But sire, this hedge hog is already here!!! It is not an omen of anything. It is the miracle we have been looking for. And it is wondrous. Cried Bedivere
I shall dub it the Great Hedge Hog of the Royal Forest.
Just then the hedge hog jumped on Blaise, ripping and tearing at his body, ripping and tearing and tearing and ripping. The crazed creature had taken out Blaise's eyes with two swoops of its claws when Gawain who had run to his horse, grabbed his crossbow and fired. The hedge hog after severely farting in Gawain's general direction, dropped onto the field and expired.
The King rushed to Blaise. Are you alright Blaise. Blaise, do you hear me?
Yes, Sire, I hear you. But I cannot see you. Cried Blaise.
The King cried, oh what powers of the Royal Forest have caused this great catastophy Oh woe is me and woe is Blaise and woe is our realm!!!
Well, look at it this way Sire. Blaise was already blind, to begin with. So really, what has been lost here and what a feast we shall have back at the castle, Gareth said with some trepidation attempting to ease the uncomfortable feelings of all those around him.
Well said, Gareth. Now let us complete the task at hand.
The men finished the gutting and the skinning a noted how grand it was to finish task.
Just then the sky became suddenly dark.
The next morning we are treated to an adulterous tryst.
The scene begins in the inner sanctum of the ante anteroom. Lancelot awaits the Queen with trepidation and anticipation whilst the King is hunting with his trust dog Cabal and his sharp-eyed Hawk the Rush. The Queen enters, ever averting her eyes toward her beloved.
Swaying her hips to and fro, fro and to, Gwenivere closes in on Lancelot. Why here? Why are we meeting here today and at this time as high noon approaches and ladies usually seek the comfort of their beds, preparing for the repast?
The King is gone away with a hunting party just a quarter or so ago. Lancelot's eyes caught on the glow of the most beautiful woman in Camelot. Iseult was certainly the most beautiful woman in Cornwall, and, don't get me wrong here, I mean I would not kick her out of the bedding for chomping on bread while sipping her wine, but the Queen was something to behold.
But why here, asked Gwenevere? And exactly what is an ante anteroom?
Why it is before the anteroom.
But the anteroom is the room before. Exactly what room is the anteroom before?
Oh Lancelot, no wonder they call your LanceLOT. The Queen who had heretofore averted her eyes now noticed that Lancelot was buck naked and rather frisky at that!!! So to speak.
Actually you do not pronounce the 'T' where I come from. In Brittany, the T is not pronounced. The correct pronunciation would be LanceLOW.
Not a chance!!! Replied the Queen and suddenly with all enthusiasm she leapt toward him, tripped on her gown and found herself on her knees in from of the great iconof steel and Lancelot too.
At this point there is a break in the action-so to speak-and since this exercise in nonsense is rated PG we shall leave the two lovers to....er...love, so to speak and ...
We next find ourselves in the Royal Forest with the King and Gareth and Gawain.
Why is it Gawain that we seem to have to enter farther and farther into the forest in order to find proper game? I recall that as a child Merlin would take me but 10 paces into the forest and there would be game galore, game galore I say. Deer. Stages with 15-17 points, more points than your brother Gareth could make in a fortnight. And wild boars with huge tusks and smoke coming out of their nostrils.
The supply of game was so great that we let the peasants in our mighty forest to forage for squirrels and rabbits and rodents of all kinds and colors. We called it the trickle down theory of fauna. And as the aristocracy flourished, so did the peons. Kind of a trickle down and peon theory of economics...And then.............
Look over yonder Sire. An omen. A shady man of the woods in long robes carrying a placard. Cried Gareth.
Which yonder, asked the King.
Three o'clock Sire, at Three.
AM or PM?
Wait, I see him. Oh that is just the local ogre. Nothing to fret about laddy.
But what is such a specter doing out here in the middle of nowhere? And what exactly does the sign say, Sire?
He is just an ogre, a member of the Ogre Society a 'spin off' as it were of the Masons. The sign, if you would bother to learn how to read Lingua Latina, says: The End is Near. It seems to be the mantra of a libertarian/conservative group that immerses itself in doom and gloom politics. Every measure taken by Us (that is the Royal We, or I guess in this instance the Royal Us) to improve the Realm is contradicted by members of this sect.
What exactly is a mantra, Sire? Asked Gareth.
Never mind!!! Look, the Stag of Redemption, just over that hill-six o'clock.
But Sire, we are at six o'clock. Gawain noted.
Uh, uh..twelve o'clock nigh. That's it twelve o'clock.
Oh Sire, what a stag, what a magnificent animal. To see such magnificence, only if we could kill it and mount its head over your Regal Chair!!! cried Bedevere who had just joined the group.
Follow me oh royal hunters and we shall pierce it with our finest Royal Arrows. At that the troop galloped and galloped and galloped. Just as the great animal appeared at the top of the hill. Gawain, the best with the cross bow, took the stag into his sights and...fired. Then Gawain remembered at the last moment that he had forgotten to load his cross bow and he proceed to load the best of the weapons of his age and fired at the beast, striking it in the neck.
With a great leap and a jerk, with a jerk and a leap the Mighty Stag lurched and leaned and leaned and lurched and suddenly fell silent unto the ground.
The small troop cheered the exactitude of Gawain's keen archery.
The King cried: I knew there was a reason I kept you and your brother around. Blaise, Blaise, it is time for a song. A song of victory over the Great Stag of the Royal Forest.
Yes Sire:
There lived and reigned on the vernal plane
A Stag the likes that we've never seen
He was stalked and slewn by Sir Gawain
With bow so taut and eyes so keen
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
Upon the hill with the trees so green
Came hunters with the aging King
So deep in forest that we neer been
We grab our prey and we all shall sing
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
We came upon the stag to clean
Disemboweled and about to skin
With knives so sharp and skill so keen
We will give it our all for the aging King
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
Singing we will, we will, slay you
clap clap clap clap clap clap
What is all this about an aging King. Answer me Blaise.
Er...er..just for scanning purposes Sire, nothing personal in it, nothing personal in it at all.
Besides, I am thirty and three and in this day and age, it really is the new 28. You know Blaise, your singing is so bad you have startled the horses. See, Gareth fell on his back side once again. After this you can do the writing but your uncle Talesian must accompany us for the singing. You are truly as bad at barding as that Dylan guy after a fifth of whiskey and seventy five cigarettes.
What is a cigarette, Sire? Asked Bedivere.
Never mind, go help Gareth and Gawain.
Gawain had already begun the skinning while Gareth was working on the gutting. Gutting is truly a science. The stomach must be opened with much skill and with an eye for the intestines and Gareth was one of those great knights who had the eye for such goings on. Most of the time the other knights would shun Gareth not just for his ignorance which was renowned and sung about throughout the land, but his stench was something that only Gawain could abide after having to sleep with his brother lo these long years.
Back to the action at hand. Gawain had just ripped the belly of the carcus with his gutting knife making a clean slit that began to open wide and all of a sudden, BEHOLD a singing Hedge Hog sprang out of the stag.
From the murder of a great forest hero
I have come from stag to a brand new day
I shall gather my tree hugging friends
And protest this murder with help from the ASPCA
Gawain and Gareth were beside themselves in fear and wonder. Now, most of the time the two brothers were side by side but this time they were side by side in fear and Bedivere was beside himself, which is hard to be when you are most times by yourself. So to speak.
The King cried, This is an Omen. An omen of something great to come.We must all kneel and pray to Our Lord Jesus Christ of the Forest.
All the knights fell to their knees in prayer. Except Gareth and Gawain who were already kneeling do their tasks at hand.
O Lord of all of us please hear our prayers.Help us discover what this omen means.
But sire, this hedge hog is already here!!! It is not an omen of anything. It is the miracle we have been looking for. And it is wondrous. Cried Bedivere
I shall dub it the Great Hedge Hog of the Royal Forest.
Just then the hedge hog jumped on Blaise, ripping and tearing at his body, ripping and tearing and tearing and ripping. The crazed creature had taken out Blaise's eyes with two swoops of its claws when Gawain who had run to his horse, grabbed his crossbow and fired. The hedge hog after severely farting in Gawain's general direction, dropped onto the field and expired.
The King rushed to Blaise. Are you alright Blaise. Blaise, do you hear me?
Yes, Sire, I hear you. But I cannot see you. Cried Blaise.
The King cried, oh what powers of the Royal Forest have caused this great catastophy Oh woe is me and woe is Blaise and woe is our realm!!!
Well, look at it this way Sire. Blaise was already blind, to begin with. So really, what has been lost here and what a feast we shall have back at the castle, Gareth said with some trepidation attempting to ease the uncomfortable feelings of all those around him.
Well said, Gareth. Now let us complete the task at hand.
The men finished the gutting and the skinning a noted how grand it was to finish task.
Just then the sky became suddenly dark.
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DD,
This "slays" me!
January 29, 2009 8:53 AM | Reply | Permalink
O I am so glad you liked it!!!
Turn in tomorrow for more pangography.
January 29, 2009 10:34 AM | Reply | Permalink
Secks and a gallop through the forest...two of my favorite sporting events! :o) I have started saving my second cup of coffee just for reading you in the morning, dd.
Now, if that darkening sky is the shadow cast by a fire breathing dragon soaring above...mmmmmm. Delicious.
January 29, 2009 9:15 AM | Reply | Permalink
Thank you so much Flower of mine.
Dragons are not that far away.
January 29, 2009 10:29 AM | Reply | Permalink
Dick. I can't wait to hear the Democrats singing in Congress, "We will, we will, slay you." Plus the AM/PM and 33 is the new 28 lines. Top marks.
But the eye-gouging hedgehog?
A thing of beauty.
January 29, 2009 10:42 AM | Reply | Permalink
Yeah but did you see how I kept the anti-violence crown from yelling at me? How can you hurt the eyes of a blind guy?
And remember, he is the ey-gouging SINGING hedge hog!!!
January 29, 2009 10:58 AM | Reply | Permalink
Yup. He was awesome. But now he's dead. The weasels and I sang the lament, carved his name in our arms, but now... well, at least we know what's coming.
Revenge of the Singing Hedgehogs.
Everybody knows the rule. "Never fuck with a hedgehog." And a singing one? Well. Gawain might as well pack it in.
January 29, 2009 11:03 AM | Reply | Permalink
Note to self: Be careful not to miss simple prepositions such as "with" when reading such rules. Meanings can change quickly.
January 29, 2009 11:19 AM | Reply | Permalink
hahahaahahah
Are you simply removing the preposition and turning it into a proposition? I am asea. But I have been asea for some time now.
Thank you for dropping by.
January 29, 2009 11:33 AM | Reply | Permalink
President & Vice-President Hedgehog have read your words. They are not amused.
You have been added to the list, along with Gawain.
Prepare for pain.
January 29, 2009 11:37 AM | Reply | Permalink
Better this than this.
Track that, Google.
January 29, 2009 8:30 PM | Reply | Permalink
A foot in the mouth is worth two in the hedge
What!!!!
January 29, 2009 8:34 PM | Reply | Permalink
dd, I can see you are just getting started here, you are finding your stride, dare I say it, your calling....
And I am your loyal readress (as in poetess, as in gentlewoman reader).
I can see you have sat long at the feet of other bards. It doth benefit the populace, dear venerable Bard of Beede. And lo how I await the coming of the morrow and the furtherance of this lay. (lay.. as in your story, of course)
January 29, 2009 11:06 AM | Reply | Permalink
Now you have me laughing. This is becoming great fun!!! Thank you for your support TheraP.
January 29, 2009 11:25 AM | Reply | Permalink
Thou doeth me great honor, dear Venerable Bard of Beede.
(picture, a slow, graceful curtsy in a long, flowing gown - of only one fibre, as Almighty God commands in the good book, I might add)
January 29, 2009 11:34 AM | Reply | Permalink
Huzzah again! Thou surely art the immortal bard anew.
or perhaps the immoral bard I knew
January 29, 2009 12:04 PM | Reply | Permalink
Methinks my thanks are not truly enough.
Thanks Bali!!!!
January 29, 2009 1:08 PM | Reply | Permalink
Well, at one point I had to leave and, shall we say, compose myself (hee hee hee...) that was getting pretty hawt!
Thank you for not harming any animals...
See you tomorrow Shakespeare!
January 29, 2009 1:51 PM | Reply | Permalink
AKKKKKKK! (to quote Bwak!) I missed a paragraph the 1st time through!.....Why'd ya half ta kill Bambi's daddy?
January 29, 2009 1:55 PM | Reply | Permalink
Thank you Stilli. I am glad you liked this.
This was not Bambi's Daddy, he was rather a magical charm in the enchanted forest and this shall be explained later.
January 29, 2009 2:02 PM | Reply | Permalink
Ahem.
More importantly, you ALSO killed a Singing Hedgehog.
Our Hedgehog vengeance will be swift, and complete.
January 29, 2009 2:42 PM | Reply | Permalink
Oooooh..... dueling lays...
January 29, 2009 2:47 PM | Reply | Permalink
I must remind myself never to read your posts until after I have finished my Cafe Cubano (espresso for the uninitiated)...After said cafe exited my nasal cavities all over my keyboard...I have to spend money I don't have to clean my laptop...for shame sir, I say for shame...
PS. That was great!!
January 29, 2009 3:29 PM | Reply | Permalink
Thank you for the kind (I hope) words
Warped Poetry is exactly what I am after, or at least warped prose.
January 29, 2009 3:43 PM | Reply | Permalink
I can't wait for the movie.
January 29, 2009 9:49 PM | Reply | Permalink
You are hereby appointed Royal Agent of the Roundish Table. 15%? Think about it. I will have my attys draw up the papers. 25% if I get Palin's book deal!!!
January 29, 2009 9:56 PM | Reply | Permalink
You're on! Though I fear we all may be too ghosty for you to ghostwrite the Lady of the Moose's memoirs by the time she has anything worth dictating to thee. So to speak.
January 29, 2009 10:09 PM | Reply | Permalink
I meant my ditty to go to you. I hate it when I am unread.
January 29, 2009 10:26 PM | Reply | Permalink
There once was a woman from Wassilla (sp)
Who's kin all looked the gorilla
She hummed when she awoke
She winked as she spoke
But always ended with you betcha!!!!!
January 29, 2009 10:19 PM | Reply | Permalink
Don't feel bad, even John Updike died with cartons of unsold books lining his basement walls as insulation.
January 30, 2009 9:37 AM | Reply | Permalink