The X-Men screamed as they fell through the chaos between dimensions. Scott
tried to hold onto Jean, but he lost his grip on her and saw her and the
rest of the X-Men drift away into the ether. A few seconds later, he landed
on hard ground with a heavy thud.
"Uh!" he exclaimed at the impact. He sat up slowly, trying to get his bearings. He was in a large hilly field, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. It was day, but it was very foggy and Scott could not see very far.
"Ugh. Where am I? Where's everybody else?" Scott wondered aloud. He looked down and saw that his uniform had vanished. Instead, he was wearing a white tunic and chain mail armor, and had some kind of strange metal band on his head.
Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see a young man standing behind him, carrying a very large knapsack on his back.
"Are you alright, sire?" the man asked in a British accent.
"Um, yeah," said Scott as he stood up. "Hey, wait a minute, what'd you just call me?"
"I called you sire, my liege," said the man.
"Liege? What's going on here?" Scott asked the man. "Where did everybody else go? What happened to my uniform? What's this thing on my head?"
"That, that's your crown, sire," said the young man, obviously confused. "Are you sure you're alright? That wizard must have given you an awful blow,"
"What wizard?" asked Scott. "I don't even know where I am! The last thing I knew I was fighting Magneto, and now I wind up here and I'm wearing this ridiculous costume! And I don't even know who you,"
Scott took a closer look at the young man's face as he was talking. Despite the accented voice, and the grime and dirt covering his face, Scott thought the youth looked very familiar. "Wait. Bobby?" he asked.
"No, sire, I'm your servant Patsy! Don't you even remember me?" said the young man. "Oh, that bloody wizard! I knew we shouldn't have trusted that bloke Merlin, sire! Always had a sneaky look to him if you ask me,"
"Hang on, did you just say Merlin?" asked Scott.
"Yes, my lord," said Patsy. "Rotten scoundrel he is. I'll skin him alive if I ever see him again,"
Scott took a guess. "Am I, King Arthur?"
"Bless you, sire, you're remembering!" Patsy cried.
"I don't remember everything, Bob, er, Patsy," Scott said. "I don't know where or even when it is,"
"You're in England, sire, and it's the year 73 squared AD,"
"73 squared?" asked Scott. "What do you mean?"
"Well, that's the way we write it anyway, sire," Patsy exclaimed. "The last number always gets wrote out real tiny-like, so we call it 73 squared,"
"Right," Scott said skeptically. "Look, I was with some people. Friends of mine. Have you seen them anywhere?"
"Not lately sire, but who knows what sort of tricks that blasted wizard might have pulled. He coulda sent then halfway around the world for all I know," Patsy said.
"Look, I really need to find them," said Scott. "Do you have any idea where they could be?"
Patsy shrugged his shoulders. "None whatsoever, milord, but I think there's a castle a few miles from here. Maybe we should look there,"
"Alright," said Scott. "If anything else, maybe they can give us food and shelter for the night. Do we have any horses?"
"Of course we do, sire, the finest horses in England!" Patsy said. He reached in his knapsack and pulled out two coconut shells.
"Those are the horses?" Scott asked incredulously.
"Well, sire, we are working on a rather low budget," said Patsy. "I'm afraid these were the best we could afford,"
"Alright," Scott sighed. "Let's get going,"
With that, he turned and began to walk towards the castle. Patsy walked along behind him, banging the coconut shells together.
X
About an hour later, they arrived at the castle. As they approached, a voice rang out.
"Halt! Who goes there?" it asked.
Scott looked up to see a guard patrolling the tower. He couldn't make out his face but he thought he recognized Ray's voice.
"Ray? Is that you?" Scott asked. "How'd you get here?"
"There's no Ray up here!" replied the voice. "Now identify yourself, or I'll sick the hounds on you!"
Scott scratched his head. What was going on here, anyway? Since Bobby, or Patsy as he was calling himself, thought he was King Arthur, Scott decided to play the part and took up a royal air.
"I am Arthur, King of Camelot!" Scott called up to the guard. Then for flair, he added, "son of Uther Pendragon, from the castle of Camelot. King of the Britons, defeater of the Saxons, sovereign of all England!"
"Pull, the other one!" the guard called back.
Scott looked up at the guard questioningly, not understanding what he had said, but realized that he was asking about Patsy.
"Uh, I am!" he said. "And this is my trusted servant, er, Patsy! We have ridden the length and breadth of the land in search of our fellow knights. I must speak with your lord and master,"
"What, ridden on a horse?"
"Yes!"
"You're using coconuts!" said the guard, accusingly.
"What?" Scott asked.
"You've got two empty halves of coconuts and you're banging them together!" replied the guard, pointing at the coconuts in Patsy's hands.
"So? We have ridden since the snows of winter covered this land, through the kingdom of Mercea, through,"
"Where'd you get the coconuts?" the guard interrupted.
"Um, we found them!" said Scott, honestly not knowing where Patsy had found the coconuts, anyways.
"Found them? In Mercea? Coconuts are tropical!" said the guard.
"What do you mean?"
"Well this is a temperate zone!" said the guard, as if it the climate were common knowledge.
Scott was at a loss for words. He said the first thing that came to his head. "The swallow may fly south with the sun or the house martin or the plover may seek warmer climes in winter, yet these are not strangers to our land?" Ok, that made no sense at all, he thought immediately afterward.
"Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?" asked the guard.
"Not at all!" Scott said. "It could be carried!"
"What? A swallow carrying a coconut?"
Scott hoped this wouldn't go on too much longer. His neck was beginning to get sore from looking up. "It could grip it by the husk," he said, a little less sure, since he had never really thought about how a swallow might carry a coconut in the first place.
"It's not a question of where he grips it! It's a simple question of weight ratios! A five ounce bird could not carry a one pound coconut," said the guard.
Scott was getting frustrated. "Look, it doesn't matter!" he shouted. "Can we please see your lord and master?"
The guard ignored Scott and continued on. "Listen. In order to maintain air- speed velocity, a swallow needs to beat its wings forty-three times every second, right?
Up on the tower, a second guard walked up and joined the first. "Who's down there?" he asked.
"Some loony what thinks a swallow could carry a coconut up this way," replied the first guard,"
"Well, it could be carried by an African swallow," the guard suggested
Scott heard the second guard and thought he sounded exactly like Roberto. "Hey, Roberto, what's going on up there?" he shouted.
The guards ignored Scott and instead continued to banter on about swallows and coconuts.
"Oh, yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not a European swallow. That's my point,"
"Oh, yeah, I agree with that," "But then of course, African swallows are non-migratory, so they couldn't bring a coconut back anyway,"
"Oh, yeah,"
Scott rolled his eyes. I've had enough of this, he thought. He gestured to Patsy, and they began skipping across the countryside, leaving the two guards carrying on their conversation. A few moments later, they vanished into thin air, leaving the plain to the howling wind.
X
"Uh!" he exclaimed at the impact. He sat up slowly, trying to get his bearings. He was in a large hilly field, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. It was day, but it was very foggy and Scott could not see very far.
"Ugh. Where am I? Where's everybody else?" Scott wondered aloud. He looked down and saw that his uniform had vanished. Instead, he was wearing a white tunic and chain mail armor, and had some kind of strange metal band on his head.
Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see a young man standing behind him, carrying a very large knapsack on his back.
"Are you alright, sire?" the man asked in a British accent.
"Um, yeah," said Scott as he stood up. "Hey, wait a minute, what'd you just call me?"
"I called you sire, my liege," said the man.
"Liege? What's going on here?" Scott asked the man. "Where did everybody else go? What happened to my uniform? What's this thing on my head?"
"That, that's your crown, sire," said the young man, obviously confused. "Are you sure you're alright? That wizard must have given you an awful blow,"
"What wizard?" asked Scott. "I don't even know where I am! The last thing I knew I was fighting Magneto, and now I wind up here and I'm wearing this ridiculous costume! And I don't even know who you,"
Scott took a closer look at the young man's face as he was talking. Despite the accented voice, and the grime and dirt covering his face, Scott thought the youth looked very familiar. "Wait. Bobby?" he asked.
"No, sire, I'm your servant Patsy! Don't you even remember me?" said the young man. "Oh, that bloody wizard! I knew we shouldn't have trusted that bloke Merlin, sire! Always had a sneaky look to him if you ask me,"
"Hang on, did you just say Merlin?" asked Scott.
"Yes, my lord," said Patsy. "Rotten scoundrel he is. I'll skin him alive if I ever see him again,"
Scott took a guess. "Am I, King Arthur?"
"Bless you, sire, you're remembering!" Patsy cried.
"I don't remember everything, Bob, er, Patsy," Scott said. "I don't know where or even when it is,"
"You're in England, sire, and it's the year 73 squared AD,"
"73 squared?" asked Scott. "What do you mean?"
"Well, that's the way we write it anyway, sire," Patsy exclaimed. "The last number always gets wrote out real tiny-like, so we call it 73 squared,"
"Right," Scott said skeptically. "Look, I was with some people. Friends of mine. Have you seen them anywhere?"
"Not lately sire, but who knows what sort of tricks that blasted wizard might have pulled. He coulda sent then halfway around the world for all I know," Patsy said.
"Look, I really need to find them," said Scott. "Do you have any idea where they could be?"
Patsy shrugged his shoulders. "None whatsoever, milord, but I think there's a castle a few miles from here. Maybe we should look there,"
"Alright," said Scott. "If anything else, maybe they can give us food and shelter for the night. Do we have any horses?"
"Of course we do, sire, the finest horses in England!" Patsy said. He reached in his knapsack and pulled out two coconut shells.
"Those are the horses?" Scott asked incredulously.
"Well, sire, we are working on a rather low budget," said Patsy. "I'm afraid these were the best we could afford,"
"Alright," Scott sighed. "Let's get going,"
With that, he turned and began to walk towards the castle. Patsy walked along behind him, banging the coconut shells together.
X
About an hour later, they arrived at the castle. As they approached, a voice rang out.
"Halt! Who goes there?" it asked.
Scott looked up to see a guard patrolling the tower. He couldn't make out his face but he thought he recognized Ray's voice.
"Ray? Is that you?" Scott asked. "How'd you get here?"
"There's no Ray up here!" replied the voice. "Now identify yourself, or I'll sick the hounds on you!"
Scott scratched his head. What was going on here, anyway? Since Bobby, or Patsy as he was calling himself, thought he was King Arthur, Scott decided to play the part and took up a royal air.
"I am Arthur, King of Camelot!" Scott called up to the guard. Then for flair, he added, "son of Uther Pendragon, from the castle of Camelot. King of the Britons, defeater of the Saxons, sovereign of all England!"
"Pull, the other one!" the guard called back.
Scott looked up at the guard questioningly, not understanding what he had said, but realized that he was asking about Patsy.
"Uh, I am!" he said. "And this is my trusted servant, er, Patsy! We have ridden the length and breadth of the land in search of our fellow knights. I must speak with your lord and master,"
"What, ridden on a horse?"
"Yes!"
"You're using coconuts!" said the guard, accusingly.
"What?" Scott asked.
"You've got two empty halves of coconuts and you're banging them together!" replied the guard, pointing at the coconuts in Patsy's hands.
"So? We have ridden since the snows of winter covered this land, through the kingdom of Mercea, through,"
"Where'd you get the coconuts?" the guard interrupted.
"Um, we found them!" said Scott, honestly not knowing where Patsy had found the coconuts, anyways.
"Found them? In Mercea? Coconuts are tropical!" said the guard.
"What do you mean?"
"Well this is a temperate zone!" said the guard, as if it the climate were common knowledge.
Scott was at a loss for words. He said the first thing that came to his head. "The swallow may fly south with the sun or the house martin or the plover may seek warmer climes in winter, yet these are not strangers to our land?" Ok, that made no sense at all, he thought immediately afterward.
"Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?" asked the guard.
"Not at all!" Scott said. "It could be carried!"
"What? A swallow carrying a coconut?"
Scott hoped this wouldn't go on too much longer. His neck was beginning to get sore from looking up. "It could grip it by the husk," he said, a little less sure, since he had never really thought about how a swallow might carry a coconut in the first place.
"It's not a question of where he grips it! It's a simple question of weight ratios! A five ounce bird could not carry a one pound coconut," said the guard.
Scott was getting frustrated. "Look, it doesn't matter!" he shouted. "Can we please see your lord and master?"
The guard ignored Scott and continued on. "Listen. In order to maintain air- speed velocity, a swallow needs to beat its wings forty-three times every second, right?
Up on the tower, a second guard walked up and joined the first. "Who's down there?" he asked.
"Some loony what thinks a swallow could carry a coconut up this way," replied the first guard,"
"Well, it could be carried by an African swallow," the guard suggested
Scott heard the second guard and thought he sounded exactly like Roberto. "Hey, Roberto, what's going on up there?" he shouted.
The guards ignored Scott and instead continued to banter on about swallows and coconuts.
"Oh, yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not a European swallow. That's my point,"
"Oh, yeah, I agree with that," "But then of course, African swallows are non-migratory, so they couldn't bring a coconut back anyway,"
"Oh, yeah,"
Scott rolled his eyes. I've had enough of this, he thought. He gestured to Patsy, and they began skipping across the countryside, leaving the two guards carrying on their conversation. A few moments later, they vanished into thin air, leaving the plain to the howling wind.
X