"Aha, Park Place, that's mine!" said Bors, as Gawain moved his pawn six spaces. "That'll be fifty bucks, please."
"Hey, just a minute," said Gawain, examining the card. "It's only thirty five bucks!"
"Yes, but I've put you in the penthouse," replied Bors, as though this were completely obvious.
"What if I don't want your stupid penthouse?" said Gawain.
"Stop fighting, girls," scolded Lancelot. "You're behaving like two-year olds."
"Oi, Lance, you want to keep those teeth?" asked Gawain.
"Gawain! Fifty bucks."
"You're only getting thirty five."
"Fine, just give it to me." Gawain counted out the money and handed it over.
"Just a minute," said Tristan suddenly, looking intently at the board. "Park Place is my property."
"What have I told you about fibbing, Tristan?" said Bors, turning a somewhat ruddy hue.
"Oh, just go," groaned Dagonet. "Galahad, it's your move."
Galahad picked up the dice and rolled them. "Ooh, doubles." He moved two spaces and rolled again. "Doubles again!" He moved six spaces and picked up the dice once more.
"Three doubles and you go to jail," said Tristan.
Galahad chuckled. "Ah, what are the chances of – God damn it!" He had rolled a twelve.
"Go to jail, you bad boy," said Lancelot, waggling a finger at him.
"Oh shut up," growled Galahad, moodily shifting his piece into jail.
"Right, my go," said Bors, scooping up the dice. "Aw, Boardwalk? Aha! That's Galahad's, so I don't have to pay any money. Guess it sucks to be you!" He thumbed his nose obnoxiously at Galahad.
"RRRggghHHH! Stupid game!" snapped Galahad, overturning the board.
"Oh, nice work, Galahad," said Gawain, reaching down to pick up some money.
"Just cause you're losing!" accused Tristan.
"Meh, it's a dumb game anyway," said Lancelot, dumping some houses and hotels into the box.
When the game was finished, Lancelot called to the barmaid, "Oi, another round of ale, please. Gawain's paying."
Gawain was too lazy to bother protesting. Besides, he was rather tired right now.
"I'm bored..." whined Galahad.
"We need something to do," agreed Dag.
"We could go kill some Saxons," suggested Tristan.
"Do you see any Saxons?" said Lancelot.
"Remember old Chester? If he was here, we could make fun of him," said Bors.
"Do you really want Chester around?" Galahad pointed out.
"Well...nope."
Suddenly a crashing noise split the air. It had come from the door to the tavern. All the knights' heads swiveled round to see what the commotion was. The door had been blasted down, and smoke filled the corridor behind it. Suddenly, a sooty, four-foot figure sprang out of the smoke and landed in an over-dramatic pose (legs apart, pelvic area thrust out) upon the table.
"I'm back!" it shouted obnoxiously. All the knights groaned. It was Chester.
"That's fantastic, Chester," said Dagonet boredly. "Go tell someone who doesn't mind having to look at your codpiece."
"I.E., no one," added Tristan.
"Here, listen, motor-mouth," said Chester, turning his head to look at Tristan. "I can tell you that lots of women round the court very much like looking at my codpiece."
"Yeah, to speculate whether or not there's actually anything in it," remarked Galahad.
There was a ripping sound as Chester's legs slipped in opposite directions and he did a severe case of the splits on the hard table. The knights sniggered.
"Well, if there was, there isn't any more," said Bors.
Chester managed to stand himself up again, wincing as he did so. "I hope you weren't planning on having children at all," smirked Gawain.
"Then again, I suppose there wouldn't be anyone willing to have children with you," said Lancelot.
"Ah, now that's where you're wrong," said Chester. "Precious! Would you come in here, please?"
Something shuffled inside, and beetled over to their table. It clambered up on the table and stood next to Chester. It had a mass of filthy blonde hair, stood slightly taller than Chester, and had a dirt-encrusted face. Though it was difficult to discern, but all the knights figured the thing was –
"A girl?" said Dag, squinting.
"This is Morag," proclaimed Chester, patting his girlfriend on the back. "She's my little pumpkini-wumpkini."
"And you're my little snoogie-woogie," said Morag, in a severely masculine voice.
Galahad retched. "That's not right," said Gawain.
"She will be my children's mother," said Chester.
"Argh! Horrible image!" shouted Lancelot, reeling. "Get it out!"
"And I see none of you lot have anyone half this good-looking," sneered Chester. The knights thought about it, and realized: none of them did have a girlfriend.
"Of course we do," said Lancelot. "They just hid when you came into sight."
"Pfft, girls are for chumps," said Tristan, waving his hand dismissively. "Hawks are where it's at."
"Still got that dumb bird, have you?" remarked Chester. As if on cue, a bird dropping rocketed down and landed on top of Chester's head.
"No, I never had a dumb bird," said Tristan, as the raptor landed on his shoulder. "Good shot, Mr Fuzzy, good shot," he cooed, stroking the bird's chin. It looked rather proud of itself.
---
"Oi, Galahad, hurry up!" said Lancelot. He and the other knights were walking down to the beach already, wearing their flash swim trunks and carrying their towels.
"Wait up, I'm still putting the lotion on!" came Galahad's voice from the changing tent. A few seconds later he jumped out, positively dripping with suntan lotion.
"Come on, all the good spots'll get taken!" said Bors.
A few moments later, they had all set down their towels and sat down, wearing their cool shades, and whistling at the girls going past. Several of them gave them coy glances and giggled, but no one really made a pass.
"Just not our day, is it?" said Dag, relaxing.
A fanfare heralded Arthur's arrival at the beach. He was wearing a pair of yellow shorts with green lettering reading 'Totally!' on them.
"Hello, chaps," he said, setting his towel down next to Lancelot.
Gawain looked at Arthur's shorts, shook his head, and said, "You just haven't a clue, have you?"
For a few moments, they worked on their suntans, before Arthur stood up and announced he was bored and going for a swim, which he did.
"He embarrasses me sometimes," said Galahad sadly.
"Mm-hmm," agreed all the other knights in unison.
"Oh, you guys are here?" came a voice from behind them. Recognizing the voice as Chester's, the knights rolled their eyes and turned their heads round. He was standing a few feet away, carrying a beach ball and wearing a pink speedo. For a few seconds, they just gaped, then all of a sudden...
"AUGHH!" they all yelled at once, fleeing for the water, hiding their eyes.
"MY EYES!" screamed Galahad, covering them.
"MY MIND!" roared Tristan.
"MY SANITY!" shouted Lancelot.
At the same time, the knights all dove like madmen into the water, swimming like hell for as far as they could go.
"What is it?" asked Arthur concernedly, swimming up to them.
"It's Chester!" said Galahad. "He's – he's wearing a – a – a – "
"A speedo!" shouted Gawain.
"That guy has more rolls than a pastry truck!" said Dagonet.
"Chester?" asked Arthur. "He fell into the well, didn't he? Did he get out?"
"Regrettably yes, it seems," said Tristan.
"Well, this is splendid news!" said Arthur, swimming to the shore. "I must speak with Chester." With that, he biffed off.
"Holy crap, what is wrong with Arthur?" Galahad whispered. "I think he may be going senile."
"Never mind what's wrong with Arthur, what the heck is up with that girlfriend of his?" said Lancelot. "Forget senile, you'd have to be bloody stupid to – "
"Don't say it!" screamed Gawain and dove frantically underwater.
"Speak of the devil," grimaced Dagonet, looking at the shore. For Morag had just joined her boyfriend on the shore, wearing a violent purple one-piece.
"Blimey, Gawain," said Bors, squinting. "She almost looks like you from this distance."
"Shut up," said Gawain. "She does not."
Lancelot gasped, and turned an evil eye upon Gawain. "That gives me a fabulous idea."
"What?" asked Bors, then after a moment, it dawned on him. "Yes!"
"Yes!" said Galahad.
"Yes!" said Tristan.
"Yes!" said Dagonet.
Gawain was last to get the idea, but he did all the same.
"No!"
---
That evening, the knights all cooperated to get Gawain into a large, ugly, hot pink dress. Bors and Dagonet held him down while Lancelot and Galahad forced it on, and Tristan guarded the entrance to the room.
"Look guys, please, reconsider!" moaned Gawain.
"Oh shut up, it's not going to be that bad," said Lancelot.
"Yeah, all he needs is a whiff of your aftershave lotion and it'll scare him to death," said Tristan.
"I'm not wearing aftershave; does it look like I've shaved?" said Gawain, pointing to his funny beard.
"No, but who needs to shave to use aftershave?" said Tristan, striding over and emptying half a bottle of it into his beard.
"Bloody hell, where did you get that from?" asked Gawain, catching a smell of it himself.
"Out of your room," said Tristan, pocketing it.
"Alright, Gawain," said Lancelot, as he and Galahad stood up. "Looking good, there."
Bors and Dagonet released their hold and Gawain stood up, nearly tripping over the dress in the process. "Very racy," smirked Bors, and the knights burst out laughing. "Do you think the lipstick was a bit much?"
"Not as much as the eyeshadow," said Lancelot.
"Shut up, it's not funny," said Gawain, and proceeded to try and figure out a way to take it off.
"Alright, you can take it off, and greet Chester naked then," said Dagonet.
"What if I just don't go through with it?" smirked Gawain, as they headed for the door.
"Smile!" said Tristan, and snapped about ten photos in about five seconds.
"You'll have to, if you don't want these photos released to the Camelot Column," Bors said nastily.
"Don't worry, as soon as Chester runs out screaming, we'll chuck some clothes in and you can get changed without a stain on your character." Tristan's comment was less than helpful.
"Yeah, it won't be just a stain," blubbed Gawain as they shut him in, "it'll be a bleeding disgrace."
From outside, he could hear the knights chatting with a few girls. Great. Now he couldn't just walk out, or his very masculinity would be in question. There was no way out of it.
A few minutes later, the chattering died down. There was the sound of five pairs of boots scarpering. The moment was approaching. Gawain straightened the dress. The door opened, and in entered...
"Jols! What are you doing?" demanded Gawain.
"Nothing, sir," stuttered Jols, obviously trying to contain laughter. "I just got the...wrong...thing."
"Get out of here!" Gawain barked, and Jols hoofed it. "Tell anyone about this, you're dead!"
A few seconds later, Bors poked his head in. "Sorry, Gawain, false alarm."
"Do I have to do this?" moaned Gawain.
"Yes," said Bors flatly, and shut the door.
Gawain waited in silence for a few more painful, suspenseful minutes before he heard footsteps approaching. Well, better not to drag it out too long.
"Ganis!" snapped Gawain as said peasant opened the door. "Sod off!"
"Sorry, I was just – " But he was cut off as Gawain heaved a vase at him. He shut the door just in time.
"Enjoying yourself, Gawain?" asked Galahad, opening the door to grin in a most lapin way at him.
"Extremely, thanks, Galahad," hissed Gawain through clenched teeth. "Get out of here before I pull a Clint Eastwood on you."
Galahad laughed and took his leave.
Once again, steps were heard. They were getting closer, closer, closer...
The door opened...
"Oh, Arthur, for Christ's sake, what do you want!" bellowed Gawain.
Arthur's eyes widened as he caught sight of his comrade. He scanned him up and down a few times, vaguely uttered a distant "Yes...", before slowly sliding out.
Fuming, Gawain clenched his fists. The rotten bastards...how could they do this?
"You're doing a fine job, Gawain," Dagonet reassured him as he stuck his head in. "Keep it up."
"The man of the moment has just rounded the corner!" came Lancelot's voice from outside, and Dagonet quickly disappeared. Their cackles could be heard as they dispersed down the hallway. This was it.
"Are you in there, precious?" said Chester from outside, in as flirtatious a voice as was possible with his hideous vocal ability.
Gawain was sorely tempted to burst out and flee, but then he remembered the photos. "Yes, it's me, cupcake," replied Gawain in as feminine a tone as he could muster, squinting at the cue cards he had been given. He choked on his words as they came out.
"May I come in, pray?"
"Anything for my little...snuggly wuggly," answered Gawain, trying not to gag as he spoke.
The door opened.
"Well, look who it is," said Chester 'smoothly', shutting the door behind him. He did his best to make a suggestive face.
"How's my lambkin?" asked Gawain.
"Good now, anyway," replied Chester, approaching Gawain. "What's that smell, precious?"
"I mistook the furnace for a lavatory," replied Gawain.
"No matter," said Chester, but straining to speak as he got closer and was hit with the full brunt of the aftershave. "It's quite all – what's that? That's a beard! Oh God, NOO!"
He looked as though he was ready to flee, but Gawain beat him to it. He booted Chester in the codpiece and bolted out the door, where the knights tossed him his clothes.
"Get changed, we'll make sure no one watches," said Dagonet.
Seconds later, Chester blasted out the door and rocketed down the hallway. He burst out into the courtyard, screaming like there was no tomorrow. He shot across the lawn like a singularly ugly bullet, made a beeline for the well, and dived in headfirst.
"Well, that's the last we'll see of him," said Tristan, as he and the others assembled outside. Gawain came stumbling out seconds later, filled with unimaginable rage. He couldn't seem to get any words out, just a stream of unintelligible grunts and curses.
"Poor Gawain," said Bors sadly. "We're sorry."
The knights tried to hold back laughter, but failed and howled with mirth. Except Gawain, that is.
---
The next day, Gawain strolled down the hallways. No one had found out about the hideous incident the previous day, apart from Jols, Ganis, and Arthur. And Chester, of course, but he wasn't likely to be telling anyone even if he could.
Gawain had finally started to calm down. Then he saw it.
The mailman was walking past him. "Morning," they said together, and were about to forget about it, when something caught Gawain's eye. The mailman was carrying a parcel. And it was from Tristan to the Camelot Column.
Curious, Gawain followed. The mailman got on top of his horse and dropped the parcel into his mailbag. Just as he did so, however, Gawain caught sight of the subject. It was composed of two mere, one-syllable words, but they were enough to petrify Gawain to the core.
It read 'Re: Gawain'.
"NO!"