“Merlin, tell me.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Merlin?” Her tone was a little more forceful this time.
“Oh, fine. I brought Arthur and Gwen along, too.”
Allison breathed out heavily. “Ill advised, but not horrible.”
“And Bors, Kay, and Gaheris,” Merlin added quickly.
“What?”
“Just in case.”
“Is that all?”
“Not exactly,” admitted Merlin. “Galahad is sitting outside of the door there reading a magazine.”
“Oh, Merlin. This is... Wait, he’s the only one sitting outside this room?” It was almost a shriek, and Merlin had never heard her sound so irritable before. “Where are the rest of them?”
“Bors, Kay, and Gaheris are trying to find work at the Medieval dinner theater, and Arthur, Gwen, Arty, and Mitch are looking elsewhere for money-making ventures.”
“This is bad. Very bad.” She had put her hands over her face now. Slowly she opened them. “Who are Arty and Mitch?”
“Arty is the king of Scotland.”
“What?” she barked.
He cringed. “And you know Mitch as Sir Lance-A-Lot.”
“You... I can’t believe... I mean... What were you thinking?”
Merlin was not one who turned away from a deserved spanking, and, no, he wasn’t that type of fellow, but he wouldn’t take the full brunt of the blame for something he wasn’t fully responsible for. Allison was just as much at fault for all of this as he was. She was the one who disappeared. A simple call could have solved everything, right?
“I was thinking about how you didn’t reply to me for eight months,” he said defensively. “Don’t put all of this on me, little lady.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, putting her arms up in surrender. “Well, hopefully it won’t hurt anything. I mean, the reality is that you’ve not gone back in time, you’ve come forward.”
“Exactly,” Merlin affirmed, feeling justified in his thoughts on the subject of impacting the timeline.
“The worry is that you’ll all now have visions of the future in your heads when you inevitably do go back to your own era. That’s where my concern is.”
It was an angle that Merlin hadn’t considered. In essence, all of the things that everyone saw here could be relayed to those living in the past. How often had even he shared things that he shouldn’t have? Granted, everyone considered it “magic,” but now that a contingency of people knew the truth behind things, the Camelot of past days may indeed be in jeopardy. Worse, now that Arthur knew that magic was a crock of hooey, Merlin could be looking at a long road ahead.
“I’ll figure something out on that,” he said. “For now, why are you in here?”
“Because, my friend,” Allison said with a grin as she pulled away a large pillow she’d been hugging, “I’m about to have a baby.”
ADULT FUN
The four of them walked into a place that was called The Adult Wonderland.
From the outside it looked as though there would be some racy fashions that both Arthur and Arty would find most appealing. On the inside, though, it was far more than that. How a place like this was allowed to exist was unfathomable to Arthur. There were hidden shops in the deep recesses of the town just outside of Camelot that carried a few juicy items, but this was well beyond what even the most perverse of minds in his era could imagine.
“This place is horrendous,” he whispered, almost afraid.
“I find it rather appealing, personally,” Guinevere said. Her smile was glowing.
“You would,” Arthur said in an accusatory tone.
“Pardon me?”
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s the gown.”
“Ah, yes.”
“I’ve never seen such a den of debauchery,” Arty said, not bothering to keep his voice to a respectful hush.
Lance-A-Lot smiled almost as big as Guinevere did. “Nor have I,” he said.
Guinevere pointed to a row across the room. It contained a number of phallic items that were of all shapes and sizes. Arthur groaned.
“Are those what I think they are?” said Guinevere.
“If you mean are those things that look like they’re after being fake uterus unicorns,” Arty answered, “I think they is.”
Arthur eyes widened farther with each step they took toward the man-part-shaped objects.
“They’re enormous,” he said. “No man could possibly measure up to those things.”
“Well—” began Lance-A-Lot.
“Quiet, you.”
When Arthur turned back he gaped in horror at the vision of his precious petunia holding one of the beasts as if it were her best friend. Worse yet, she was holding it rather low on her person as if seeing how she might look if she’d been built in such a way. Arthur gave her a sour look, so she quickly moved it back up near eye level.
“It feels so lifelike, Arthur,” she said, handing it over to him.
Without thinking, he reached out and touched it. “My, it truly does.”
“Bah!” Arty said. “Why are ye after touchin’ the thing?”
“What?” Arthur retaliated. “It’s not like it’s real.”
“Nay, but it’s after pretending to be.”
“Oh, quit being so prudish, Arty,” Guinevere said with a laugh as she threw it at him. “Here, see for yourself.”
“I don’t want ter touch...” He stopped as it landed in his hands. “Oh, that does feel real, don’t it?”
“See?”
“The blasted thing even bends all about,” Arty added, flexing the item in different directions.
“That could come in handy.”
“Aye, lass,” Arty agreed. “Even the danglies are proportioned like a real set.” He then turned it around and squinted. “What’s with the cup on the back?”
Guinevere pointed at a few others that were hanging off the wall. “Seems that it makes it so you can stick it on a wall.”
“The wonders of this future ye’ve brought me to are vast,” Arty stated almost reverently.
“Best of all,” Guinevere said, snatching the toy back from the king of Scotland, before running her fingers over it, “no splinters!”
By now the proprietor of the establishment had come over. She was roughly Merlin’s height, if Arthur was a proper judge, and her beauty was intoxicating. Arthur was careful to keep himself in check so as not to offend Guinevere.
“Excuse me, but may I help you find something?” the lady said with a voice that Arthur imagined could make some of these toys come to life.
“Aye,” Arty said without missing a beat. “How much fer the phony zipper rippers?”
“Sorry, the what?”
“He wants to know how much these false man-items cost,” said Arthur before Arty could go on another excursion of names.
“Ah, I see. Well, they’re all different. It depends on a number of factors, such as material, length, width, vibration capabilities—”
“Vibration?” Guinevere interrupted.
“Of course.”
“Sorry, but what’s the purpose of that?”
“Seriously, honey?”
“Yes,” Guinevere replied with a bit of angst.
“Are you from the Middle Ages or something?” the clerk said. Then she laughed and added, “Just making a joke because of the outfits.”
“Good one,” Arthur replied, trying to use the vernacular that he’d heard Merlin employ a few times. “Could you please just explain? We are not from the, uh, city.”
“I could explain,” the clerk replied, “but it’d be easier to just suggest that you put this on your special spot and press that button.”
Guinevere took the toy with a confused look. The clerk pushed Guinevere’s arms down a fair bit, and then pressed the aforementioned button.
“Oh, holy hell,” Guinevere said as her face flushed faster than Arthur had ever seen. “How much is this thing?”
“F
orty-five.”
“I’ll take one hundred of them,” Guinevere said.
“Ohhhkay,” the clerk replied with another laugh.
“Dear,” Arthur said, leaning in, “please remember that we have no money at the moment.”
“Find some,” Guinevere stated flatly. Her face was a fit of sinister determination. “Now!”
“Uh—”
“Whoa,” the clerk said as she stared down at Lance-A-Lot. “Are you guys trying to shoplift or something?”
Arthur said, “What?”
The clerk pointed at Lance-A-Lot’s lump. “That.”
“Sorry,” Lance-A-Lot said, turning away. “I didn’t want to walk around wearing only tights, but Arty needed my trousers.”
“Wait, are you saying that thing is real?”
“Oh, it’s real, sister,” Guinevere replied. “It doesn’t vibrate, but, then again, it doesn’t need to.”
“Hey,” said Arthur.
“Did you say you don’t have money?” the clerk said as if struck with inspiration. They all shook their heads. “How do you feel about being on film?”
“Well, I was on it before,” Lance-A-Lot said. “When we went down to Scotland last summer. Merlin said he filmed us. Basically just looked like he was holding a box with glass on it and yelling ‘action’ a lot.”
“Right. Well, want to make a couple hundred bucks?”
Lance-A-Lot excitedly said, “That would be wonderful, yes.”
“Follow me.”
The clerk led the knight through a few racks of clothing. They were headed toward a back room that had a brightly lit sign above it. The sign said, “Employees only. Filming in Progress.”
“Uh, lass,” Arty called out, “a quick question, if I might?”
“Yeah?”
“That really big one up on the top there. What’s it after costin’?”
“One hundred and twenty.”
“Pricey,” Arty said, scratching his beard, “but I think me Agnes would consider it a consolation prize.”
“A what?” Arthur asked.
“Nothing. Just talkin’ to meself. Uh, lassy, one more question.”
“Go on.”
“Again, that big one up there,” he pointed at it again. “Are ye after havin’ it in white?”
REHEARSAL
Sir Gaheris stepped out from the shadows and stood next to Sirs Bors and Kay. They were having a discussion with the other actors. Gaheris didn’t really care about the majority of the conversation, but he was hopeful that he could glean more information regarding this evil knight.
It seemed, though, that Bors was intent on debating the finer points of why actors should consist of men only.
“But a lady in a play?” he was saying. “I’ve not heard of such a thing before.”
“Everyone knows that the ladies are excellent for throwing after-show parties,” agreed Kay, “but they’re not of much use in the show.”
“Well said, Sir Kay.”
“You two are joking, I hope?” said the actress.
“Not that we’re aware of, dearest Leslie.”
“Certainly not I.”
“Then you’re a couple of sexist pigs,” she said as if spitting venom.
“Is that a bad thing?” Bors asked.
“She said it as though it were.”
“Of course it’s a bad thing, you chauvinists. This is the 2020s! Women have been acting for hundreds of years.”
“Is that so?” said Bors, pursing his lips.
“Obviously. I’m playing the queen in tonight’s show and you two are nothing but a couple of bumbling underlings.” She jutted her chin out defiantly. “Deal with it.”
“Never have I been treated thusly,” Sir Kay said in shock.
“It’s a downright outrage, my lady.”
“Okay, okay,” Wilhelm chimed in, “everyone calm down. I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding. Now, Bors and Kay are new to our area. From the sound of their accents I’d say they’re from the U.K., yes?”
“No,” Bors corrected, “we’re from England.”
“Oh, I see,” said Wilhelm. “And is that also true of G. Harry Ass—”
“It’s pronounced Gah-Hair-Ess,” Gaheris said irritably.
“Ah, that does sound better, doesn’t it?”
“Hmmph.”
“You’re also from England?”
“Where else?” Gaheris replied. “I’ve never heard of a place called OOK.”
“It’s U-K,” noted Leslie, saying each letter separately.
“What did I say?” asked Gaheris, though there came no reply.
“So, as you can see, Leslie,” Wilhelm said to the actress, “this is just a case of people from England not knowing our ways.”
Leslie placed her hands on her hips. “I’m from England, you dolt.”
“No, you’re from the U.K.”
“England is in the U.K.!”
“It is?” said Wilhelm. “Who knew?”
“Everyone,” Leslie was quick to point out.
“I didn’t,” said Bors.
Kay shrugged. “Nor I.”
“Anyway,” Wilhelm carried on as if it didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, “the point is that they obviously think differently than you do, but that’s okay. Just prove to them that you’re the top of the peaches and that’ll put them in their comfy zone.”
“Fine, I’ll do just that.”
“No offense, my lady,” Bors said, holding a hand up to shield his eyes, “but I’ve a wife and she would not appreciate you showing me your peaches.”
“Same for me, I’m afraid,” Kay concurred, also hiding his eyes.
“You may convince me whenever you’re ready,” Gaheris stated, finally having a solid reason to not be married. “I’ve no wife to contend with.”
Leslie shook her head in disgust. “You three are getting dumber by the minute.”
“You injure me, madam,” Bors replied
“Simply appalling behavior, my lady,” Kay said.
“Does this mean you’re not going to show your peaches?” asked Gaheris.
“That’s enough of this,” Wilhelm yelled. “Everyone has their lines and their duties, so break it up and go study. We only have a few hours before the show starts.”
DOCTOR GALAHAD
Galahad grew bored of reading the athletics magazine. Some of the sports made very little sense to him, and even those that did weren’t very exciting.
There was the one with the ball where everyone kicked it around. That seemed interesting enough, but the pictures made it look as though the field was far too large. He could imagine a lot of running and not a lot of scoring.
The game with the men all dressed up in gear was more his style, but even that seemed to be a little on the slow side. It also wasn’t exactly clear why they were all crushing each other when they didn’t even have the ball. He assumed that the one side was trying to hit the guy with the ball while the other side tried to stop them from doing so. That made sense to a degree, but did there really have to be that many of them?
And he wasn’t even going to dignify the one where they were all on ice. He had firsthand experience with combat on ice. To make a sport of it was insanity.
Galahad got up and started to walk the hallways. People gave him funny looks, but that was expected in this new era. In his own time they looked at him with respect. Here, it was more like disdain. He noticed that everyone showed respect to the people who were wearing the long white jackets, though. There was obviously something about that coat because even he found himself impressed with those donning it.
His eye caught a small room on the left and he pushed inside. There were many white jackets in here.
He took a look around to make sure the area was clear and then took one off the wall to try it on. It took a few tries to find the right size, but as soon as he did it just felt right. Galahad hearkened it to the feeling of wearing his full knight garb. He felt strong
and confident in this getup.
Just as he was admiring himself in the mirror, a nurse stopped at the door.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said. “We have an emergency situation and need your help.”
“Uh…”
“Come on, Dr… Sorry, what’s your name?”
“My name is Sir Galahad,” he replied uncertainly.
“Of course it is,” the nurse said with a frown. “You doctors really like carrying a joke along, don’t you?”
“Um…”
“Ever since we went to the medieval dinner theater, you’ve all been acting strangely. Anyway, we have a problem with one of the patients.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because you’re a doctor, of course.”
She didn’t bother to let him clarify the situation. She merely grabbed him by the arm and began dragging him down the hallway. Honestly, he was rather impressed with her strength.
“Wait,” he said desperately, “I can’t do anything to help with—”
“Okay,” she interrupted as they approached a young woman who was lying on the floor, “now, this lady is only a few months pregnant—”
“I can guarantee that the baby is not mine,” Galahad said as he wrenched his arm away from the nurse.
The young woman on the floor gave him a disturbed once-over. “So can I,” she said.
“Right,” said the nurse, grimacing. “Look, Doctor, she’s fallen down and we think her leg may be injured.”
“No thinking about it,” said the fallen woman. “I know it’s injured. I’m the one who can feel it.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” the nurse amended. “I mean we’re not sure how serious it is.”
“Hmmm,” Galahad said, trying to slowly disappear.
The nurse pulled him back. “Can you help her, Doctor?”
They were both looking at him expectantly. He knew nothing about today’s medicine, other than it was far more advanced than what was available in his time. He wanted to just run away, but there was a lady in distress here and his training as a knight began to kick in.
“You’re not a princess by chance, are you?”
“What?” the young woman on the floor said incredulously.
“Uh, nothing, was just…” He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Most of my training is in the field of battle, but let’s see what can be done.” He cleared his throat and brought his hand to his chin, putting himself in a thoughtful stance. “I don’t suppose you have any arrows sticking in you? I’m good with extracting those.”
Comedic Arthurian Bundle: The Adventures of Queen Arthur Page 16