Title: A True Hero
Summary: There's only one person in the world who can put up with Excalibur. Maybe that's because Excalibur can barely put up with him. Crack.
Notes: This is one of the dumbest things I've ever written, and by that I mean best.

There was a sword in the stone, and Shawn Spencer was only moderately surprised when he was able to pull it out. For one eager moment, he had a grand vision of being king, surrounded by all the pineapples and other deliciously flavored things he could ever want. Ooh, and Juliet. She would make a fabulous queen. Shawn watched the sword's lights-and-halo display with great enthusiasm, which was promptly ruined when the object settled once more. It was no longer an object, but a creature, an off-white little thing with a top hat, a frilly shirt, and no pants, that posed dramatically with a walking cane.

"Huh?" Shawn said. Even in his vast experience of the bizarre, this took the cake.

(Hmm. Cake. That would be good right now.)

Shawn stared at the sword-creature, and the sword-creature stared at Shawn. "Do you speak English?" Shawn asked at last. He didn't like awkward silence.

"FOOL! Of course I do."

"No need to be rude," Shawn said indignantly. "I'm Shawn Spencer, psychic detective. Who are you?"

"I am Excalibur, blade of kings, forger of empires! I am the greatest sword in the history of the world! I'm also a gourmet chef, but that isn't common knowledge."

"So you are a sword." Shawn had been unsure after the weirdo transformation, but it was probably just a defect. An excited gleam returned to the pseudo psychic's eyes. "King Arthur's sword."

"My legend begins in the twelfth century. Would you like to hear it?"

"Not unless it's under a minute, no."

"One should never turn down the chance for a good story. That is the height of folly."

"It's over a minute, isn't it?"

"FOOL! If you are willing to be my meister, you must have a greater attention span than that! There are a thousand provisions that must be observed." Excalibur tried to whack Shawn with his cane.

"Hey!" Shawn jumped out of the way. "Watch it! What's a meister?"

"FOOL!" said Excalibur, twirling his cane in Shawn's face. "Meisters are the ones who wield weapons such as myself. Now, these thousand provisions are to be executed every day without fail. The five-hour storytelling party is of great importance..."

"Hah! I can barely pay attention for one hour, let alone five."

Excalibur waved his cane more vigorously in exasperation, then began pacing. Shawn was still trying to figure out what was going on, but it was becoming clear that he wasn't going to gain anything from this. Sigh.

"The first provision," said the sword, abandoning any topic relating to Shawn's attention span, "must be observed at the beginning of each day. I require a cup of coffee with cream in order to operate effectively."

Shawn found this amusing. "Okay, but you'll probably end up getting it roughly a day late. I could win an award for sheer laziness."

Excalibur glared at him. "That simply will not do! If you are to be my meister, you must complete these tasks every day!"

"I'm also the king of procrastination... FOOL!"

Their simultaneous shout echoed around the cave several times, and in the time it took to die down, Excalibur stared at Shawn. "How did you do that?" the sword asked slowly, suspiciously.

Shawn grinned. "I happen to be very good at what I do."

Excalibur swung his cane up into Shawn's face. "Are you really? They say arrogance is the height of folly."

"I thought that was turning down the chance for a good story. FOOL!"

Once again, Shawn timed it perfectly.

Excalibur was glaring now. "Stop doing that."

"Why? It's fun."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Fool!"

"Fool!"

"FOOL!"

Shawn nailed it every time.

Excalibur set the end of his cane down on the ground with a huff. "What are you, strange human?"

"Like I said before, I'm psychic. FOOL!"

There was no fooling Shawn.

"You are the most annoying person I've ever met," Excalibur sniffed.

"Speak for yourself... FOOL!" Once again, Shawn got it, pause and everything.

Excalibur threw his little arms up. "Stop it!"

"Why? You'll only do it to me."

Another pause. "FOOL!"

Simultaneous yet again.

Excalibur swung his cane at Shawn, and the pseudo psychic jumped back. The sword was giving him an irritated, dignified glare. "Perhaps you are not cut out to be my meister."

"Really? I was just getting started. FOOL!"

There were whispers in meister circles, rumors that spread between those who knew of Excalibur's true nature. They said that the sword had turned down a meister, not the other way around - that he had actually been unable to put up with a potential candidate that had come along to try his hand.

It was impossible, most of them scoffed. No one could out-annoy Excalibur.

For a while, Shawn Spencer went about his business with a smug smile. He hadn't become a king or anything, and there was a distinct lack of pineapples and Queen Juliet, but still... it felt good to win.