The two knights, Sir
Lancemenot in blue strip and Sir Gladhehad in red, faced each other at opposite
ends of the jousting arena. Lances and
shields at the ready they prepared to do battle. Lady Guinowhere fondled her
bulge lovingly as she watched with bated breath, the action about to start.
The bee flew into Lancemenot’s
helmet just as he snapped the visor shut. For a few brief moments, metal clad
limbs, thrashed about wildly, before toppling ignominiously off the horse in a
clanking, groaning heap. The stricken knight ripped off his helmet just in time
and smiled with relief as the bee flew off without stinging him.
The smile became an expression of disbelief as Sir Gladhehad smashed his head in with his spiked ball on a chain.
The smile became an expression of disbelief as Sir Gladhehad smashed his head in with his spiked ball on a chain.
Lancemenot, eyes watering,
tried to stand up but his armour was too much of an impediment. He watched
helplessly as the red knight swung his sword to deliver the coup de grace. He had
just enough time to scream “It’ll still be my bastard!” before his head was
detached and kicked into touch. Many spectators shouted ‘Foul play’ and ‘We
want our money back’ Lady Guinowhere spewed her morning sickness up over the
king’s dog. Her plans for the future would have to be seriously revised. She
patted the bulge. Groucho would be a nice name.
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