For the sake of the following tale, we are going to pretend that historians agree, though when have historians ever agreed on anything, that the classical 15th century tale of King Arthur and his Knights rose from a real hero who lived a thousand years earlier in a period often called the Dark Ages during which time no texts or documents were written to account for this real hero actually existing. Recently discovered archeological evidence (we found a sword lying next to a stone) sheds light on his true identity.

Lancelot rode towards his small village in the middle of a beautiful grassy plain on which, suspiciously, no crops were being grown to support the afore spoken village. The curly locks on his head bounced in rhythm with the thump of his horse's hooves on the ground. That was a nice touch, Antoine. "The Roman's are coming!" he shrieked excitedly at his father who had seen his approach and left his predictable mud and straw hut to greet him. "I will finally grow up to be the bravest most handsome fighter ever! And people will remember my name forever and ever and ever!"

"Uhhh, Lancelot," his father whispered, "You are not Brad Pitt. This is not Troy…"

Lancelot continued seeming not to hear him, "I knew it wouldn't be long before they'd discover my extraordinarily high midichlorian count and train me to become a---"

"And you're not Anakin Skywalker either!" his father interrupted, "You are Lancelot and you are in the middle of a bloody Arthurian legend!" Then he mumbled to himself an unspeakable error that the greatest suspension of disbelief could not cover, "Where are they finding these kid actors these days?"

"Lancelot! Lancelot!" A young girl about Lancelot's age tumbled through the now gathered crowd of stock villagers towards Lancelot who sat atop his horse about to be led away by Stock Roman Soldier 1 and Stock Roman Stock Soldier 2. Lancelot looked down at the girl from his horse and spoke epically, "Good bye. I probably won't miss you, but you look like you might have grown up to be one fine lookin' babe someday. It's a shame I wasn't written any make out scenes." The girl then handed Lancelot a small animal carving. "Well what the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

Meanwhile at Hadrian's Wall, which historians agree was an actual wall that actually existed, Arthur, Pelagious, and the woman-folk gathered around a lake conveniently located directly off the road on which the young Sarmatian Knights will conveniently be traveling upon in no less than a paragraph from now. "So Arthur," spoke Pelagious to the young boy, "helping your mother with the laundry again? Surely there are more manly things—"

"Only the permanent press robes! Look, I made this for you!" Arthur said, handing Pelagious a circular stone tablet on which he had carved Pelagious' likeness.

"What the hellis this? A coaster? Whatthe hellam I supposed to do with this?"

"Well, I—"

"And why did you make my nose so big? My nose is not that large---and my hairline hasn't receded that much! Oh bloody hell!"

"I'm sorry, Pelagious," Arthur said gloomily, looking down and kicking the dirt at his feet.

As promised, at that very moment the young Sarmatian Knights were riding on cue on the road past the lake. "Look, Arthur!" Pelagious spoke, "You see those rather dirty looking boys riding towards the gates over there?"

"Yes," Arthur replied, a little too enthusiastically, "Am I to give them bubble baths?"

"No, no, you idiot! You are to be their commander."

"I guess this means I can't help with laundry anymore."

Fifteen years and many bubble baths later, Arthur and the Sarmatian Knights rode their horses atop a hill overlooking a Roman caravan that will be attacked in the next paragraph. "And she caught him in nothing more than his britches lying in bed with her sister," came a voice that was Tristan's.

"No!" gasped Dagonet.

"Yes! Apparently it was quite the affair and had been going on for sometime," Tristan answered.

"Well what did she do?" asked Dagonet.

"Well," said Tristan in a dynamic tone, "She leapt up onto the bed and handed him the most swollen black eye you've ever seen and then proceeded to savagely tear out her sister's hair while screaming obscenities that woke up everyone in the entire corridor."

"Well I'll be…" spoke Dagonet thoughtfully.

"Will you two stop your gossiping?" interjected Arthur, annoyed, "We are about to go off into battle!"

"What? How do you know that?" asked Lancelot. Arthur gave Lancelot a knowing smile, and Lancelot gave Arthur a confused look in return.

"You know Gawain," mused Galahad, "Your hair looks especially curly this morning."

"Doesn't it look fabulous?" Gawain commented, tossing his locks about with his fingers.

"I wonder if I might braid flowers into it later on?" Galahad asked.

"Daisies this time," answered Gawain, "I don't know what kind of wild plant you came upon last time, but it gave me a rash and I couldn't stop scratching my head for weeks."

"Woads!" shouted Tristan suddenly.

"Ha! I told you!" Arthur called to Lancelot.

"Well," answered Lancelot, "Shouldn't we ride off and fight them or something?"

"No, no," replied Arthur, "Not yet. Let's wait here a moment."

"Arthur! The Romans are down there dying---"

"And are they not doing a wonderful job of it? Antoine really knows how to pick them."

"But are we not supposed to be down there protecting them?"

Arthur yawned, looking a bit bored, "Oh fine, fine! Let's be off then!"

Arthur and the Sarmatian knights rode swiftly off to aid the Romans who were being attacked by half naked blue men who historians would probably disagree were called woads. Arthur rode slightly ahead of the others, establishing his character as one with respected leadership qualities. He reached down to his hilt and pulled out Excallibur, which we will not call Excallibur because the historians never got back to us on that fact or conjecture or oh bloody hell! Arthur swung sword unnamed through the air, tossing it up in the sky in a graceful effort to adjust his grip. Unfortunately, sword unnamed slipped through Arthur's fingers, landing awkwardly on the ground. "Blast!" grumbled Arthur, dismounting his horse to fetch sword unnamed. "Ride on! Ride on!" he called after the knights.

It was an epic battle, a battle to end all battles. Unfortunately, it took place too soon in our tale so we may suppose that it wasn't really the battle to actually end all battles, but I won't give anything away. Lancelot dismounted his horse and strutted towards a group of woads. He let out a blood-curdling cry, "HECTOOOOOORRR!" The woads looked slightly confused but engaged him in a fight ending in their deaths and Lancelot's obligatory victorious hero pose. Tristan stood about awkwardly watching for several minutes until a woad sprung upon him. Tristan slashed his sword, cutting the woad across the chest. "Eeeewwww!" Tristan exclaimed disgustedly at the site of the blood that squirted out of the poor blue nude man. Tristan suddenly felt sick to his stomach and dizzy in his head. Darkness quickly overcame him and he fell to the ground. Gawain was busy dueling with a rather vicious looking woad and did not notice another woad coming at him from behind. Galahad did notice, however, and quickly dispatched an arrow into the back of the approaching woad. Galahad rode over to Gawain and quickly scolded him, "That would have ruined your hair!"

Arthur had retrieved sword unnamed and was upon his horse galloping towards the caravan just in time for the end of the battle. "Aww, did I miss it?" he asked, "Where is the bishop?"

"Umm…Art-th-th-thur?" stuttered timid Bors, "I, uhh, I f-f-found the Bishop in the carriage and he umm well, he uhh.."

"Yes? He what?" asked Arthur.

"He has an arrow going right through his skull," answered Dagonet smiling, "It looks really cool."

Arthur sighed, walked towards the carriage, and opened the door. "That's not the Bishop," he said, "But you're right. That looks really cool."

"Awthwah Cowstahs! Yo fwahthah's speeting eemahge!" came a voice from behind.

"Bishop Germarnus," greeted Arthur, "Welcome to my legend. I see you have used the dependable decoy trick."

"Aynshunt treeks fo un aynshunt dahg," replied the Bishop smiling. Arthur smiled in return. "So deese ahre thah gwate Swarmashun naheets Ah haf 'eard so mahch of in Rome," continued the Bishop, suddenly turning to poor Tristan who was lying unconscious on the ground.

"Oh, he's ok," said Arthur, "He faints at the sight of blood, but don't worry, Bishop, we will protect you."

"Ah haf no dowt cohmmahndah. No dowt," said the Bishop as he entered his carriage, suddenly deciding he no longer needed to employ the decoy trick.

"Do you have any idea what he said?" asked Lancelot.

"Not a clue," answered Arthur.