Fourteenth Century Man

By Todd Fan

Disclaimer: "That's because I'm dead. Dead as a can of spam"

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Oooh a new parody, this one of 'A Knight's Tale'. I know, I know, there are still 3 of my older parodies awaiting to be re-written, but I couldn't resist wirting this new one first, it's a STORGE! Oh, yes, I finally made a Storge parody! You FOXY lady.

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ACT 1 – Goodnight, Sir Knight

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Hank appears in a randomly thrown together set of a forest, a directors cap on his head at a jaunty angle. He opens up a book and clears his throat.

"Whillom, as olde stories tellen us", he reads, "There was a Duke that highte Theseus"

He smiles at the camera.

"And thus begins the classic story, 'The Knight's Tale', by Geoffrey Chaucer", he says, "of course, Todd Fan has only got to these two lines before losing her interest completely in it"

He sighs, tossing the book over his shoulder.

"So she said 'bugger it' and decided to parody the movie instead".

He clears his throat, reading from the appropriately placed subtitles.

"In medieval times a sport arose", he reads, "Embraced by noble and peasant fans alike, though only noble knights could compete. The sport was jousting"

We open to see random knights jousting.

"Now as seen as horses are a big thing in this parody, we needed two panto horses", says Hank, "so along with Jott, we have a new horsey, called Lancitty"

"Well…this sucks", says Lance the horse head.

"Yeah", says Kitty, the horse rear, "the only reason the horse isn't Romy is because Todd Fan needs someone who is slightly French"

"Qui qui", grins Remy offstage

One knight, with suspiciously large wings sticking out of the back of his armour, gets knocked off his horse, falling to the ground with a thud.

"Owww", groans Warren.

Hank ignores him, going back to reading the subtitles.

"For one of these knights, an over-the-hill former champion, it was the end"

"I'm not over-the-hill", protests Warren from the floor, "I'm only twenty two!"

Hank steps on a wing, causing Warren to whimper, before he continues to read.

"But for his peasant squire, Forge, it was merely the beginning"

We open now on Warren, who is very, very still, and propped up against a tree, still in his armour.

"Should we help him?", we hear Forge ask someone, "He's due in the lists in two minutes. Two minutes or forfeit"

We see that Forge and Freddy are standing a little away from Warren. Forge has two pieces of cloth stuck up either nostril.

"That's attractive", snorts Hank.

"Lend us those", says Freddy, then grimaces, "ewwww, do I have to. Who knows what this hippie's had up his nose?"

"Hey!", says Forge, "I'll have you know that my nostrils are very clean….I smoked things in the seventies, not snorted"

Forge takes out his nose plugs and hands them to Freddy.

"Right. Left", he says, nodding at each in turn.

Freddy grimaces, before plugging his nose, walking down the hill over to Warren. He puts his hand in front of Warren's face, waiting. After a few seconds, he closes Warren's visor and looks at Forge.

"Dead"

Forge blinks at him.

"Eh?"

Suddenly, Todd walks up, grinning happily.

"'Aint it fun pretendin' ta be British? Actually, I'm the only one that's supposed ta be British", he says, "…until Evo screwed it up. I coulda got tons more chicks with a British accent, yo"

"Just say your line, Toad", sighs Hank.

"Three scores ta none after two lances", says Todd, "all Sir Warren needs ta do is not fall off his horse an' we won"

He pauses at the stink.

"Oh, man, that 'aint me, I swear!", he says.

"For once", mutters Freddy, then looks at Todd, "he's dead"

Todd blinks.

"What do ya mean 'dead'?", he asks.

"Is there any other meaning to 'dead'?", asks Forge.

"The spark of his life is smothered in shite", says Freddy, "his spirit is gone, but his stench remains. Does that answer your question?"

"…Oh…good one", says Hank with a nod.

Todd whimpers, running towards Warren.

"No, no, no, no, no", he says, "no, he sleeps. Rouse him. Coool, fourteenth century, speak..ith"

"Stop mocking the language!", growls Hank, "or Todd Fan will make you read form the book"

Todd looks between Freddy and Forge.

"We're minutes from victory", he pleads, "I HAVEN'T EATEN IN THREE DAYS!"

It appears Todd's character has rage difficulties.

"None of us have, Todd", shouts Forge

"We need to fetch a priest", says Freddy, getting up.

"No, he's not dead!", shouts Todd, storming over to Warren's 'corpse', beginning to shake it, "wake up! Come on, huh? COME ON!"

He bangs on the roof of the helmet, before snapping and starting it kick him.

"Extra strong legs…hurt", whimpers Warren.

"Shut up and be dead!", snaps Hank.

"Come on!", screams Todd as he continues to beat up the corpse, "You manky git! You was never a good jouster an' now you're DEAD!"

"Freddy", says Forge as they get to the top of the hill again leaving Todd to his 'rage'.

Freddy follows Todd's line of vision to where Evan rides up on Lancitty.

"Hey, squire", he says, "Sir Warren must report at once or forfeit the match"

"Spikes hurt, spikes hurt", whimpers Kitty.

"Oh he's…", starts Freddy.

"He's on his way", interrupts Forge

Evan looks behind them where Todd is violently throwing Warren's 'corpse' around.

"I haven't eaten in thee days!", he screams, "Three days! What did you eat?"

Freddy and Forge smile pleasantly at Evan, who arches a brow.

"…Okey dokey then", says Evan, riding off back to the stadium.

Once he has gone, Freddy turns to glare at Forge.

"I'll ride in his place", says Forge with a nod.

"You worthless, stinkin'..", carries on Todd, jumping up and down on Warren.

"At least he's being quiet about it now", says Hank.

"Strip is armour", says Forge, heading towards Todd, "I'm riding in his place"

He sighs, trying to pull Todd off Warren.

"Stop kicking him", says Forge, "take a chill pill"

"This is the fourteenth century, not the seventies", growls Hank, "you speak properly, or I'll break an important body part"

Forge glares at Hank, then sighs.

"Calm down", he says, "I'm riding in his place. Help me, please"

As Forge goes about taking off Warren's armour, Freddy shakes his head.

"What's your name, Forge?", he asks.

"You just answered that for him", says Todd helpfully.

Forge carries on, taking off the armour, ignoring him.

"I'm asking you, Forge Thatcher", says Freddy, "to answer me with your name"

"….Wait.. I don't have a surname", says Forge.

"You do now", says Hank, "Mozoltov!"

Forge gives Freddy a glare, before continuing to take Warren's armour off with Todd.

"…..That sounds kinky", giggles Hank.

"Please, I don't need the nightmares", says Todd.

"It's not Sir Forge", continues Freddy, "It's not Count, or Duke, or Earl Forge. It's certainly not King Forge"

"I'm aware of that", says Forge as he starts to up on the armour padding, "it would be so cool to be King Forge. I'd call my Kingdom: Groovy Land, and everyone would have to wear jumpsuits and disco every Saturday night"

"You have to be of noble birth to compete!", protests Freddy.

"A detail", says Forge, "The landscape is food. Do you want to eat or don't you?"

"….That's a very stupid question to ask me", says Freddy pointedly, "if the nobles find out who you are, there'll be the devil to pay!"

"They prey that they don't", smirks Forge

"Annnd cut", says Hank, "great work people, Warren, you can stop being dead now"

……….

"Warren?", Hank blinks, walking over to give Warren, now in his underwear, a poke, "Angel?"

………

"…Oh…dear", Hank gives a nervous laugh, "medic! Come on, Warren, we need you for a later scene!"

"I mighta kicked him a teensy weensy bit too hard", admits Todd.

Hank glares at him as Warren is dragged off to the med ward.

"..You're on my list, Frog-Boy"

"Every time a chicken clucks an angel gets it's wings", slurs Warren on his stretcher.

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Yes, I really do own 'The Canterbury Tales', and though I can usually read anything, this one goes a little past me. One day I'll get through it…maybe. So, there we go. Do review. Until next time…