Comedic Arthurian Bundle: The Adventures of Queen Arthur

by John P. Logsdon

  “Wait a moment, Fukus Toomuchus,” said Rotundus, “you keep saying the same name over and over again. Did you name all of your children Vini?”

  “Ah, yes, sorry I didn’t explain that. When I was listing them off just now, I was recalling their faces and not thinking of the actual names. You see, when you have so many children it just doesn’t make sense to name them all differently. Doing that means that I’ll have to call them all to dinner by each name. With seventeen kids, that’s a challenge.” Fukus Toomuchus smiled proudly. “For me it’s easy. When I want them to all come to dinner, I merely holler out, ‘Vini, it’s meal time!’ and they all come running.”

  “Brilliant,” said Rotundus, to which Lance had to agree. “But, Fukus Toomuchus, it begs the question what do you do when you only wish to speak with one of them?”

  “Oh, that’s easy,” she replied with a dismissive wave as the line began moving again. “If I have need to discuss something with only one, I just call them by their last name.”

  “Ah,” said Rotundus Posterius.

  Lance had to think about that one for a minute.

  Soon they were back on the path and heading towards the palace again.

  The weather was hot, but dry. While he wasn’t exactly uncomfortable in his getup, he assumed the guards must have been on fire. That was the life of a soldier though, and one that he’d spent many years serving himself. In their own way, they were undoubtedly proud of the fact that they were suffering with sweat. Plus, it gave them something to complain about at the end of the day.

  Lance felt an odd sensation at that moment. A tingling. He glanced over at Allison and saw her hair was sticking up. Something was wrong.

  § § §

  “What level did you make as taskmaster, Buttus?” Thumpus asked, feeling somewhat impressed.

  “Seven.”

  “I didn’t know that. You were pretty near the top. Upper management.” Thumpus studied the gruff, middle-aged man as they continued walking. “I’m impressed.”

  “Yeah, but they wanted to push me up that final step, running an entire section.”

  “Seriously? You could have been a Vice Taskmaster?”

  “Was within reach,” replied Buttus, “but I wasn’t interested in doing the hours. I like having my evening and weekends. Plus, giving reports to the emperor isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”

  “I’ll bet. Well, anyway, as you can see, we’ve both been guards since—” Thumpus looked back and paused. “They’re gone.”

  “What?” replied Buttus, spinning around. “Shit.”

  “Where’d they go?” Thumpus said, scanning the area frantically.

  “I don’t know,” Buttus said, looking equally shocked.

  Thumpus pulled forth his blade, not sure what else to do. If Supreme Guard Dickus Headus heard about this, they’d be walking nightshift for a month!

  “We have to find them,” Thumpus said as he started to walk away.

  “Orrrr…” Buttus said, grabbing Thumpus by the arm, “we could go back to our post and act like we never saw them in the first place.”

  “That would be dishonest,” said Thumpus, blinking.

  “Would you rather be honest and deal with Dickus Headus, or turn a blind eye, get home on time, and not be punished?”

  Thumpus felt his jaw drop. “Wow, Buttus, you really were in upper management!”

  GOTTA DO SOMETHIN'

  Sitting in the house of a wizard was not something your average Scottish soldier wanted to do. Aside from the fact that just sitting around was dull, there were also the magical trinkets in the room to contend with.

  Doonan was still trying to come to terms with the two people who blinked in and out of existence in the back room. He could see that Bedivere wasn’t any better off for having seen the event either. If nothing else, they had that in common. Well, that and being in an army, anyway.

  “I can’t be after just sittin’ around whilst me king is in jeopardy,” Doonan said, pushing off the couch and stepping to the window. “It ain’t right.”

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Bedivere said. “Merlin goes on these things all the time. Never quite understood how he’d disappeared before today, and still don’t really understand it, but he’s clearly got magic on his side, so I’m not worried.”

  “Well, I am,” stated Doonan. “Magic makes me short hairs curl.”

  “Of that we can agree.”

  Bedivere stood up and started walking around as well.

  The view out the window was nice. It was a clear image of the castle and the hills beyond. Doonan wasn’t a man who traveled much, at least not in a leisurely way, but now and then he got to see visions like this and it made him wonder if maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to take his wife on a trip. Nah, she’d just ruin it with her incessant nagging. Hell, he’d never have joined up in the army had he not married her. Of course, he could go on a trip and just tell her it was a special mission from his commanding officer. He smiled at the thought.

  “I wonder if he has a bottle of spirits around here,” said Bedivere.

  Doonan felt his bladder threaten to loosen. “Ye mean ghosts?”

  “No,” Bedivere said, looking at Doonan as if he were stupid. “I mean booze.”

  “Booze?”

  “Yeah, that’s what Merlin calls it.” The knight suddenly grinned and reached into a cubby on one of the desks. “Ah, here’s something!”

  “You shouldn’t be touchin’ things.”

  Bedivere wiped the bottle and studied it for a second.

  “Tequila?” he said with a conspiratorially raised eyebrow.

  “Ta kill who?” he replied slowly.

  “This stuff is called tequila. I’ve shared many bottles of this with Merlin over the years. Really good stuff. Care for some?”

  “Is it magical?” said Doonan with a gulp.

  Bedivere nodded. “After about the third glass.”

  SWINGING WITH THE GODS

  A blink later and Lance was standing inside of an odd place. It wasn’t anything that Lance had seen before, but he’d heard descriptions of something like it on the television.

  It was cold, had panels and screens everywhere, lots of silver accents, and white floors. The air was conditioned similarly to Allison’s apartment, which felt nice compared to the heat of the Roman walkway.

  Lance found that he wasn’t as freaked out as he should have been. Maybe all of this traveling through time over the last little while had calmed him, or maybe his brain was so fogged from the transports that he was simply incapable of reacting as he once did.

  “What just happened?” said Allison in a relaxed voice.

  “I don’t know,” Lance replied, “but I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore, Two Toes.”

  “It’s ‘Toto’ and you really need to stop watching so much TV.”

  “Actually, wait!” Lance said as a moment of clarity swept over him. “Now that you mention it, I saw something like this on Ancient Anuses!”

  “Aliens.”

  “What?”

  “The show is about aliens, not anuses.”

  “That’s right. Aliens. Sorry.”

  Just then a man walked around the corner. He was a big man with gray hair that was set just so. He had steely blue eyes and a nice mid-summer tan. Next to him stood a younger woman who was built pleasingly. She had long, dark hair that accentuated her green eyes beautifully.

  “Well, hello there,” said the man in a deep, resonating voice.

  Lance jumped between his beloved and the fellow, ready to defend her with his life. Truth be told, he would have done that for anyone. It was in his training. But there was something more deep-seated about it with his wife. In other words, it wasn’t simply a duty-bound response.

  Allison, though, was not like the women of Lance’s time. She considered male chivalry to be more of a nuisance than an endearment. She’d told him so many times, in fact. So he wasn’t all that surprised when she smacked him on the back
of his head and pushed him out of the way.

  “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

  “Sorry,” Lance replied while rubbing his head.

  “Who are you?” Allison asked the gray-haired man.

  “The name’s Jupiter. And you are?”

  Allison’s eyes opened widely. “Jupiter?”

  “Now that’s a coincidence,” said Jupiter. “I thought I was the only one with that name. Truly something, don’t you think, Leto?”

  “She was only verifying your name, dear,” said Leto with a commiserating roll of the eyes at Allison. Leto then turned and batted her eyelashes a couple of times before saying, “Hello, Sir Lance-A-Lot.”

  “What’s going on here?” said Allison. “Are you two being for real with the names? I mean…” She paused and looked at Lance. Then she ran over to one of the panels and looked down for a moment. Finally, she turned and walked back slowly. “Holy shit, you are being for real.”

  “Yes, dear,” said Leto.

  Lance felt smart this time. Usually Allison was way ahead of him on things, but since he had nothing to do but watch TV on most days (and nights), he had learned a ton of things that Allison called “pseudoscience.”

  “You two are a couple of anuses, right?” he ventured with a proud smile.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Aliens, Mitch,” Allison corrected.

  “Oh, right, that.”

  “Who is Mitch?” said Jupiter, glancing around the room.

  “That’s my real name,” said Lance.

  “Ah,” said Jupiter. “Mine’s Zeus.”

  “No effing way,” shrieked Allison.

  Lance was not used to seeing her respond like that, except when they were in the bedroom, of course.

  “I’m being for realz,” said Jupiter.

  Allison scrunched her face. “’For realz?’”

  “Sorry, it’s how the kids talk these days. Was just trying to be cool, you know?”

  This had obviously been too much for Allison because she began shaking her head and waving her hands. Her actions made Lance feel as though maybe he should have been more apprehensive about the situation.

  “Hold the phone,” she said. “You two are really the Greek and/or Roman gods?”

  “You know it,” Jupiter replied with a wink.

  “This is unreal!”

  “It gets better,” added Leto.

  “How could it possibly get better?”

  Leto began twirling her hair in her fingers. “We’ve brought you up here to make a bit of a proposition.”

  “Oh?” said Allison.

  Jupiter stepped over and took Allison’s hand. He gave it a kiss, which was the gentlemanly way to greet a lady, so Lance held himself in check. Still, the man held that kiss a little longer than was polite, at least to Lance’s standards.

  Finally, Jupiter resumed his standing position and whispered, “Ever been with a god before?”

  “Hey now,” said Lance, stepping forward, “I’ll kick you square in the stones and—”

  And that’s when Leto seductively touched his arm. “You’ve not been with a god either, right, Lance?”

  “Uhhh…” He tried to answer, but whenever his nether region got word that potential action was about, the blood in his brain began to lower, making him far more foggy than what the transporter did to him.

  “I’m in,” stated Allison without flinching.

  Lance’s brain quickly reassessed the situation. “What?”

  “What, what?” his bride said with a shrug. “How many people can say they’ve boned a god?”

  “Most of the people in ancient Rome right now, actually,” admitted Leto.

  “True,” agreed Jupiter.

  “Okay, fair enough,” Allison conceded, “but I mean since Ancient Greece and Rome.”

  Lance was confused. On the one hand, Leto was exceedingly hot, and they were obviously in some kind of spaceship, which meant this was one woman—or god, as the case may be—he couldn’t possibly conquer—sexually speaking—in either his native era of Camelot or his new one with Allison. Especially not the new one. Still, Allison seemed to have jumped at the chance pretty quickly.

  “Are you saying you really want to do this?” he asked.

  “Oh, come on, Lance,” Allison said as if it were nothing. “Leto is hot! Even I can see that. Don’t act like you don’t want to tag her.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” Leto said sweetly.

  “Ravishing,” Jupiter agreed, still holding Allison’s hand.

  “Lance,” Allison said with those puppy-dog eyes she sometimes got, “a god just called me ravishing. I can’t walk away from that!”

  Lance wasn’t very comfortable about all of this, but it wasn’t like he could compete with a god, right?

  “Well, if you’re sure—”

  “Sweet,” said Allison, smiling at Jupiter. “Let’s do this, Zeus.”

  “Technically, it’s Jupiter.”

  “Right, I get that,” Allison said, nodding, “and no offense, but I’d rather screw a god than a planet.”

  PREPARING FOR THE FEAST

  Guinevere was fine with going to a feast, but she had nothing to wear. While she rather liked the feel of the boxers and trousers she had on, she didn’t feel it was befitting to represent her kingdom, regardless of the era she was currently in. And she certainly didn’t think Arthur’s green gown was proper for a king to wear to such an event.

  Arthur, of course, was busily looking at the architecture in the room. He seemed to be fascinated by the silliest things.

  “You seem distant, my petunia,” Arthur said after setting down a carving of a cat.

  “I don’t have my wardrobe, so I feel poorly about joining a party like this.”

  “You look fine, my love.”

  “Fine?” Guinevere said, grimacing. “Whatever happened to the days of ‘ravishing’ and ‘picturesque?’”

  “You still are, of course,” Arthur said, taking her into his arms and then tilting his lower half away. “It’s just rather trying to say that when you’ve got a sock stuffed in your pantaloons.”

  She nodded. “Fair enough.”

  “And what of me?” Arthur said, motioning to himself. “If I go down wearing this same outfit, they’ll wonder why when there is clearly no costume party happening.”

  Guinevere was just about to suggest they check for chests and drawers when a knock came at the door.

  “Yes?” said Arthur, answering it.

  The two guards who had been stationed with them in the dungeon were standing outside, holding outfits that looked similar to those worn by people in this era.

  “Pardon our interruption, sir. I am Guard Probius and this is Guard Clearlyachickus. We have brought a change of clothes for you and your lady.”

  “Oh?” Arthur stepped aside. “Come right in.”

  Probius and Clearlyachickus stepped into the room and set the clothes at the edge of the bed. Clearlyachickus glanced over at Guinevere a few times, visibly uncomfortable. Guinevere was surprised by her name, thinking maybe she’d heard it wrong. It was a her, obviously… right?

  “Excuse me,” said Guinevere, signaling the guard over.

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “You’re uh—” Guinevere said, suddenly wondering if it was really a wise thing to bring up.

  “Yes?” Clearlyachickus said again.

  Guinevere glanced at Probius and lowered her voice. “I noticed you in the dungeon. What’s your name again?”

  “Guard Clearlyachickus, ma’am.”

  “Clearlyachickus?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And yet you’re dressed like a man.”

  Clearlyachickus’s eyes looked like something Allison had referred to as “a deer in headlights.”

  ‘What are you saying?” said Clearlyachickus.

  “You are a woman, right?”

  At this, the guard swallowed har
d. She looked over her shoulder at the other guard. Guinevere gazed past the woman as well. Probius was standing facing the headboard of the bed, obviously doing his best to not hear a thing.

  “You can tell?” whispered Clearlyachickus.

  “Sorry,” answered Guinevere with a nod.

  “Is it my knockers? I try to tape them, but they’re rather—”

  “Enormous, yes,” said Guinevere. “And, ‘knockers’?”

  “It’s the outfit,” the guard replied. “I speak that way when wearing it for some reason.”

  “I totally understand.” Guinevere spun around slowly. “You’ll notice I’m wearing men’s garb myself.”

  “I did notice that, but I thought you were at a costume party.”

  “Right, well, my point is that I find myself saying man-terms as well in this getup.”

  “Ah.” Clearlyachickus had the sudden look of finally meeting another person who could understand her predicament. “I also keep my hair short and I try to wear loose clothing when off-duty, but these leather guard outfits make my booty pop.”

  “And you clearly shave your legs,” noted Guinevere.

  “Oh, damn,” Clearlyachickus groaned. “Didn’t think of that.”

  “And your name is Clearlyachickus.”

  The girl furrowed her brow. “So?”

  “Say it aloud.”

  “Clearlyachickus,” she said. “Sorry, I don’t see the problem.”

  “Seriously?” Guinevere said. “Okay, what is a chick?”

  “A baby chicken.”

  “Ah, yes, I suppose it depends in what time you’re in, then,” said Guinevere, and then added, “and probably locale. In my time a chick is the same thing, but way in the future, it’s a name that men call women.”

  “The future?”

  “Yes, we call men ‘dudes’ or ‘guys’ and they call us ‘babes’ or ‘chicks.’” She then tilted her head to the side. “Well, not all of them, but you get the idea.”

  “Not really.”

  Guinevere felt for the girl. It was bad enough hundreds of years in the future, but she imagined it was even worse in this time. Then again, from looking around at the people here, it may not have been.