I
In a quaint medieval village nestled amidst rolling hills and lush forests, there lived a young and eager knight errant named Lancelot. Well, not quite. For this Lancelot was Eric Lancelot, and though he was eager, he was not yet a knight. As a descendant of the most esteemed and noble Sir Lancelot, and from a long line of the most noble knights, Eric had always wanted to live up to the Lancelot name and become a most chivalrous knight errant. Yet, at the moment, he was naught but a lowly baker. Not even a baker, in fact. He just worked for one. And they hated him. Oh, how he dreamed of becoming a heroic knight errant!
Eric carried the weight of his prestigious lineage like a cumbersome suit of armor. From a young age, he was regaled with tales of his illustrious ancestor, the legendary Sir Lancelot of the Round Table. But while his forebear had carved his name into the annals of history with feats of bravery and chivalry, Eric found himself trapped in the mundane world of flour and dough.
His unfortunate predicament stemmed from an incident involving a particularly cantankerous chicken and a misplaced pair of trousers. You see, on the eve of his knighthood trials, Eric had been tasked with delivering a freshly baked pie to the esteemed Sir Percival, renowned for his proclivity for late night pastries.
Alas, fate had other plans, as Eric’s path crossed with that of the aforementioned fowl, who took an immediate dislike to the bright red fabric of Eric’s trousers. In a flurry of feathers and squawks, the chicken launched a full-scale assault on Eric’s lower half, leaving him stumbling and flailing in a desperate attempt to fend off his feathery foe.
By the time Eric managed to extricate himself from the clutches of the irate chicken, his trousers were in tatters, he was late, and the once-pristine pie lay in ruins at his feet. Needless to say, Sir Percival was less than impressed by the sorry state of affairs – after all, it was anyone’s guess as to what a pants-less pubescent boy could have been doing to that warm, messy pie.
And so, with his hopes of becoming a knight dashed by the whims of a vengeful chicken, Eric found himself relegated to the humdrum existence of a baker’s assistant, toiling away in the back of a bakery, kneading dough and baking bread under the watchful eye of the peevish baker, Master Crumblebottom.
“More salt, Eric! Can’t you tell the difference between a loaf of bread and a block of wood?” Master Crumblebottom would bellow, his voice echoing through the bakery like thunder.
Despite the indignity of his situation, Eric persevered, clinging to the hope that one day, he would have his chance to shine. But for now, his dreams of heroism seemed as distant as the shimmering towers of Camelot.
One bustling morning in the bakery, chaos ensued as a mischievous cat knocked over a stack of flour sacks, sending clouds of white powder billowing through the air. As Eric scrambled to clean up the mess, he found himself wielding a broom with unexpected finesse, effortlessly sweeping away the flour in swift, graceful strokes.
Unbeknownst to Eric, a group of knights passing by the bakery witnessed his impromptu display of broommanship. Amused by the sight of a baker’s assistant wielding a broom like a seasoned warrior, they couldn’t help but chuckle amongst themselves.
“Look at that lad go! He handles that broom like it’s a lance in a jousting tournament!” exclaimed one of the knights, nudging his companion with a hearty laugh.
The idea took root in Eric’s mind like a sprouting seed. Inspired by the unexpected acclaim, Eric embarked on a journey of self-discovery, determined to uncover the extent of his abilities. In the days that followed, he experimented with various implements, from pitchforks to rolling pins, until one day, he stumbled upon a forgotten spear tucked away in the corner of the bakery cellar. And so, between batches of bread and rolls, he practiced with the spear in secret, dreaming of the day when he would don his armor and ride forth to fulfill his destiny as a gallant knight.
Then, it happened. One fateful, rather tumultuous day in the bakery, Eric found himself at the mercy of his tyrannical employer.
With a booming voice and a penchant for perfection, Master Crumblebottom ruled the bakery with an iron rolling pin, sparing no one from his scathing critiques and blistering tirades. And poor Eric, with his clumsy attempts at pastry-making, bore the brunt of his wrath on more than one occasion.
But on this particular day, Eric’s spirit was at its breaking point. As he toiled away in the sweltering heat of the bakery, his hands trembling with anxiety and his heart heavy with despair, he stumbled upon a freshly baked batch of cupcakes.
Yet even the sweetest confection could not soothe the sting of Master Crumblebottom’s relentless criticism. With tears streaming down his cheeks and his hands shaking with emotion, Eric did what any downtrodden baker’s assistant would do: he sought solace in the embrace of cupcakes.
One by one, he devoured the cupcakes with reckless abandon, the sugary sweetness a balm to his wounded soul as he drowned his sorrows in a sea of frosting and sprinkles. Little did he know, this act of indulgence would soon seal his fate.
As the last cupcake disappeared into the abyss of his despairing stomach, Eric’s tear-streaked face was met with the sight of Master Crumblebottom looming over him like a thundercloud, his expression a mix of disbelief and fury.
“Eric!” he roared, his voice echoing through the bakery like a clap of thunder. “What have you done? Those cupcakes were meant for paying customers, not for your little pity party!”
With a heavy heart and a belly full of regret – and cupcakes – Eric could only hang his head in shame as Master Crumblebottom surveyed the bakery with disbelief and horror.
Master Crumblebottom’s eyes darted around the bakery, his gaze flitting from empty tray to empty tray, until finally, it dawned on him—the truth was as clear as the frosting on Eric’s guilty face. All 200 cupcakes, vanished without a trace, devoured by the hapless baker’s assistant in a fit of self-loathing.
“Eric!” he bellowed, his voice trembling with fury. “You donkey! You ate them all? Every last one?”
Eric could only nod sheepishly, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment and his stomach churning with the consequences of his impulsive indulgence.
“Get out!” shouted Master Crumblebottom, his words echoing through the bakery like a death knell. “You’re fired!”
Eric may have fled crying that day, and he may have continued crying into the night – and then also the next few days after that – but alas, this was his chance! He could finally dust off his father’s armor and set out to be a noble knight errant.
II
As Eric Lancelot ventured forth on his noble journey, the road ahead stretched out like an uncertain path through the mists of destiny. His heart brimmed with the fervor of youthful idealism, his spear held high and his dreams of knighthood shining like beacons in the distance. However, his grand aspirations had clashed with the stark reality of his financial limitations. Unable to afford a majestic steed like his knightly counterparts, Eric found himself striking a deal on a donkey—a creature more renowned for its stubbornness than its grace. Though it was not the glamorous mode of transportation he had envisioned, Eric accepted his humble companion with gratitude, knowing that true heroism lay not in the extravagance of one’s possessions, but in the strength of one’s resolve—or so at least the salesman had told him.
It was in a small town nestled amidst rolling hills and modest farmsteads that Eric’s path took an unexpected turn. Here, he encountered the town’s wily mayor – a man whose every word dripped with honeyed charm, his smile as wide as the waistband on a pair of overstretched pants after a holiday feast. The mayor was quick to notice Eric’s shiny armor and young face – a dead giveaway for his inexperience.
“Ah, noble knight!” exclaimed the mayor, greeting Eric with all the charm of a used carriage salesman on market day. “What fortuitous timing! We have a matter of utmost importance that requires the bravery and valor only a knight such as yourself can provide.”
Eric’s eyes widened with excitement, his heart pounding with anticipation at the prospect of fulfilling his destiny. “Tell me, good sir, what noble quest do you have for me?” he asked, his voice tinged with eager anticipation.
The mayor leaned in, his tone earnest and persuasive. “A dragon, young sir—a fearsome beast that terrorizes our humble town from its lair in the nearby ruined castle,” he declared, his words heavy with drama and intrigue.
Eric’s heart raced at the mention of a dragon—a true test of his courage and valor. Yet, as he stood before the clearly well-meaning mayor of the small town, his heart began pounding with conflicting emotions. On one hand, the allure of embarking on his first noble quest, to defeat a dragon and earn the admiration of the townsfolk, tugged at his adventurous spirit. On the other hand, the very real danger of facing such a formidable foe gnawed at his courage, leaving him teetering on the edge of uncertainty.
“Brave knight,” began the mayor with a flourish, “our fair town is besieged by a fearsome dragon that guards a treasure within the crumbling ruins just beyond our borders. We beseech you, in the name of valor and chivalry, to vanquish this monstrous beast and secure the riches it hoards for the prosperity of our humble community.”
After the mayor’s impassioned plea, Eric Lancelot hesitated, his mind swirling with a mixture of doubt and determination. Despite the mayor’s honeyed words and exaggerated gestures, Eric couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehension gnawing at his gut like a cupcake-hungry baker’s assistant.
“Sir Mayor,” Eric began tentatively, his voice betraying the inner turmoil raging within him, “while I am honored by your request and eager to prove myself as a noble knight, I cannot ignore the peril that awaits me in facing a dragon. Are there not other, less… perilous tasks that require my assistance?”
The mayor’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments before he quickly recovered, his eyes gleaming in the afternoon sun. “Ah, but noble knight, it is precisely because of the danger that your bravery is needed! Imagine the accolades you will receive, the songs that will be sung of your valorous deeds!”
Eric’s resolve wavered, torn between his desire for glory and his instinct for self-preservation. “But what of a reward?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
The mayor’s smile widened, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Ah, young sir, the true reward for such a feat is not gold or jewels, but the exposure and reputation you shall gain. Your name shall be spoken in reverent tones throughout the land, your deeds celebrated far and wide.”
Eric’s heart sank at the mention of payment in “exposure” and reputation—a currency that held little value in the face of mortal peril.
Sensing Eric’s trepidation, the mayor decided it was time to sweeten the deal. He put his arm around the aspiring knight, pulling him close, and dropping his voice to a whisper. “If you should happen to rescue the fair maiden imprisoned within the castle—our beloved princess, no less—then as your reward, you shall have her hand in marriage.”
Eric’s eyes widened in astonishment at the unexpected offer. “Truly?” he exclaimed, his heart racing with a mixture of emotion.
The mayor nodded, his smile widening into a smirk. “Truly, noble knight. Think of it—the hand of a princess as your prize, alongside the fame and renown you shall surely earn. A reward fit for a hero such as yourself.”
Eric’s heart fluttered at the mention of winning the princess’s hand. For him, it wasn’t just about fame and renown; it was about fulfilling his deepest desires for love and companionship. The prospect of rescuing the princess and earning her affection filled him with a newfound sense of purpose and determination.
“Indeed,” Eric replied, his voice now filled with excitement and anticipation. “I shall face this dragon and win not only glory, but also the heart of the princess. For love and honor, I shall embark on this perilous quest!”
“Excellent!” the mayor slapped him heartily on the back, then with a note of seriousness, he added, “and don’t forget about the treasure the dragon guards. I’m—I mean the town is depending on it!”
And thus Lancelot set off toward the ruined castle with his trusty donkey. Together, they galloped, side by side, clacking coconuts together in perfect sync with each stride. He was lucky to have found these coconuts. They must have been dropped by migratory birds, or something.
III
With his trusty donkey by his side, Eric Lancelot approached the looming ruins of the castle, the gravity of his quest weighing heavily upon him. As they ventured deeper into the crumbling structure, a sudden roar shattered the silence, echoing through the ancient halls with a ferocity that sent shivers down Eric’s spine.
Before him stood the fearsome dragon, its menacingly graceful form looming like a particularly judgmental storm cloud. Its scales shimmered like jewels in the dim light, a testament to the impenetrable armor that shielded the creature from harm.
Undeterred by the dragon’s unimpressed gaze, Eric charged forward with all the gusto of a determined hero, his spear poised for action. He jabbed and poked at the dragon’s scales with all his might, each strike accompanied by a hopeful grunt or an overly dramatic battle cry. The dragon watched with mild interest, its eyes half-lidded as if it were merely observing a particularly lackluster performance.
As Lancelot grew short of breath, the dragon let out an exaggerated yawn, its eyes drifting lazily as if it were contemplating the merits of taking an afternoon nap.
When the dragon finally decided to retaliate, it swung its massive tail with all the grace of a wrecking ball. Eric, however, had the reflexes of a startled rabbit, and he ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the blow.
As he cowered beneath the dragon’s thrashing tail, Eric’s eyes widened in astonishment. There, gleaming in the dim light, was his opening—the unarmored anus of the dragon. With determination, Eric lunged forward, driving his spear home with all the force he could muster.
To his surprise, the dragon let out a cry — not one of pain or anger — but of… ecstasy??
As the truth dawned upon him, Eric’s mind reeled. Before him lay a girl dragon, her scales shimmering with newfound allure, her eyes filled with a mix of surprise and adoration, her cheeks flushed with a glowing red. This was her first time, and Eric had unwittingly become the object of her infatuation. With the realization sinking in, Eric Lancelot found himself in a situation more absurd and bewildering than anything he could have imagined.
“How brazen!” exclaimed the dragon, her voice tinged with a mix of astonishment and embarrassment. “I’ve battled many a knight before, but this—this was my first time—you know… Oh, I’m so embarrassed!” She raised her claws to her face. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
Eric’s cheeks flushed crimson at the unexpected turn of events. He cleared his throat awkwardly, attempting to make light conversation in the midst of this absurd situation. “Uh, well, you see… I mean, it was quite… unexpected, to say the least.”
As an awkward silence crept in, Eric frantically searched for a distraction. Then, a brilliant idea struck him. With a nervous chuckle, he gestured towards his trusty donkey.
“I know this may seem odd, but as a token of my appreciation for our… uh, unique encounter, I present to you… my talking donkey!” Eric announced, his voice flaring with forced enthusiasm.
—Wait. Could the donkey talk? No, that would be silly. It wasn’t some sort of fairy tale creature, or anything. It just reminded him of Eddie Murphy for some reason.
The dragon blinked in surprise, then her eyes lit up with delight, and a wide grin spread across her snout. “Oh, how thoughtful of you!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine joy. “What a wonderful gift! Thank you, dear!”
With a grateful nod, Eric watched as the dragon’s claws darted forward, snatching up the terrified donkey in her grasp before lumbering off into the distance, her tail wagging excitedly. As he made his escape, a sense of relief washed over him, mingled with a lingering sense of disbelief at the bizarre situation he had just endured. He couldn’t help but wonder where exactly he had just thrust his spear into.
IV
As Eric Lancelot ventured further on his quest, he stumbled upon a tower enveloped in ivy, its windows adorned with delicate curtains. Peering inside, he spotted a figure—a princess, no less—trapped within its confines.
“Fair maiden!” Eric called up to her, his voice filled with determination, “fear not! I am here to rescue you from your captivity!”
The princess peered down at him with a skeptical gaze, her perfectly manicured nails tapping impatiently on the window sill. “Oh, a knight,” she remarked, her voice saturated with sarcasm. “How original.”
Eric froze, taken aback by her lack of enthusiasm. “Um, yes, indeed,” he stammered, trying to maintain his composure. “I have come to free you from this tower and—”
The princess cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand, her eyes rolling skyward as if she were auditioning for a particularly dramatic play. “Well, duh,” she scoffed. “But let’s get one thing straight. If you’ve come to rescue me, you better be prepared to wine and dine me at the finest restaurant in the kingdom. Oh, and make sure the carriage is a luxury model—I don’t do peasant transportation.”
Eric hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “Well, I used to have a donkey…” he began tentatively.
The princess’s expression turned to one of disgust. “A donkey?!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with disdain. “How utterly revolting! You want me to associate with peasants and their farm animals?” she huffed. “Absolutely dreadful!”
Eric’s heart sank at her reaction, his hopes of rescuing the princess dwindling with each passing moment. “But my lady,” he protested, “surely it’s the bravery and gallantry of the knight that matters most, not the extravagance of his transportation.”
The princess grew visibly angry, her features contorted with irritation. “Do you not see how cute I look?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in indignation. “I deserve to be given anything and everything I could possibly desire!”
Eric blinked in disbelief at her melodramatic outburst, caught off guard by her unabashed self-absorption. “But… but I came to rescue you!” he protested, his tone a mixture of exasperation and disbelief.
The princess merely scoffed at his words, her attention already drifting to her reflection in a handheld mirror. “Whatever,” she replied flippantly. “And just so you know, I’m only interested in saviors who are at least 6’5″.”
Eric’s expression fell, his hopes crashing down like a poorly constructed drawbridge. “But… but I came all this way,” he stammered, his voice tinged with disappointment and desperation. “I thought… I thought I could be the hero you needed.”
The princess’s perfectly painted lips curled into a disdainful sneer, her gaze cold and unyielding. “Oh, please,” she scoffed, her tone dripping with contempt. “Do you honestly think a peasant like you could ever rescue a princess like me? I have standards, you know. And they don’t include short, broke knights who can’t even afford a decent carriage.”
Eric’s cheeks burned with humiliation, the sting of her words like a slap to the face. “But… but isn’t bravery what matters most?” he stammered. “And aren’t you in need of rescuing?”
The princess let out a derisive laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the tower. “Bravery?” she mocked, rolling her eyes with exaggerated disdain. “As if! I have no interest in a knight who can’t even reach the top shelf without a step stool. And I’d rather die than be touched by a filthy commoner,” she frowned, looking down on him in disgust. “Ew.”
With a haughty toss of her hair, she turned and disappeared back into the tower, leaving Eric standing there, his heart heavy with the weight of her cruel rejection. As he began to step away from the tower, a whirlwind of emotions churned within him, leaving him feeling bewildered and utterly perplexed. He couldn’t believe a girl could be so demanding – especially when she was like, only a 7/10 at best.
With his dreams of chivalry and honor shattered by the princess’ ridiculously unrealistic standards, he couldn’t help but wonder if true love and heroism were nothing more than fanciful illusions in a world ruled by vanity and entitlement. But one thing was certain—he would not let the words of a self-absorbed princess deter him from his goal of becoming a true knight errant. With renewed determination, Eric resolved to find the treasure and complete his quest.
V
After leaving the princess’s tower, Eric’s mind was a whirlwind thoughts. His quest weigh heavily upon him. The treasure, the princess, the dragon—all vied for space in his mind, each presenting its own unique challenge.
It was in this state of contemplation that Eric stumbled upon the dragon, waiting patiently for his return. The sight of the majestic creature sent a shiver down his spine, but before he could gather his thoughts, the dragon spoke.
“Ah, there you are!” the dragon exclaimed, her voice surprisingly warm and affectionate. “I accept your marriage proposal.”
Eric’s eyes widened in sheer astonishment, his mind struggling to comprehend her words. “Marriage? Wh—what?” he stammered, his voice faltering in confusion.
The dragon sat back, clasped her hands together, and revealed a loving smile. “The donkey, dear. It was delicious.”
Eric’s eyes widened in horror as he realized the true fate of his loyal companion. As the initial shock began to ebb away, the dragon inquired about Eric’s whereabouts during his absence. “So, where have you been?” she asked, her tone filled with curiosity.
Caught off guard by the question, Eric scrambled to find an explanation. “I, uh… I was looking for treasure,” he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
To his surprise, the dragon’s response was one of genuine interest. “Treasure, you say? Well, I’ve got a whole bunch of it,” she proclaimed, her eyes gleaming with pride. “But what do you want it for?”
The weight of his answer hung heavy in the air as Eric struggled to find the right words. “Um, well…” he began, his mind racing to come up with a plausible explanation. “I need it to, uh… pay for the wedding!” he blurted out, his words stumbling over each other in a desperate attempt to appease the dragon.
Much to his relief, the dragon’s reaction was one of absolute delight. With a joyful roar, she hurried off to fetch the treasure, leaving Eric standing there in a daze, grappling with what had just happened. As he watched her disappear into the distance, a sense of surrealism washed over him. But amidst the chaos of his improbable encounter, Eric couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope stirring within him. When the dragon returned with the treasure, they would take it to town together, and he could finally finish his first noble quest and prove himself worthy of knighthood.
VI
As Lancelot and the dragon returned to town with the treasure in tow, the once bustling streets fell silent as the townsfolk caught sight of the fearsome creature in their midst. Panic spread like wildfire, and the townspeople fled to the safety of their homes, locking their doors and shuttering their windows in a desperate attempt to escape the dragon’s wrath.
Amidst the chaos, the mayor emerged from his grandiose mansion, his face a mask of concern and curiosity. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice echoing through the empty streets. “What have you done, Lancelot?!”
Lancelot, ever the noble knight, explained that he had retrieved the treasure to complete his quest, hoping to win the admiration of the townsfolk. But the mayor’s eyes gleamed with greed at the mention of treasure, and he wasted no time in pressing Lancelot for its whereabouts.
Before Lancelot could respond, the dragon interjected, her voice firm and unwavering. “I will not relinquish it until we are wed,” her eyes narrowed in determination.
The mayor nearly jumped in disbelief at the dragon’s audacious demand. “W–wed?” he sputtered, his mind racing to comprehend this bizarre situation. Giving Lancelot a puzzled look, he lowered his voice to avoid the dragon overhearing, “what about the princess? I thought you were going to marry her.” he inquired cautiously.
Lancelot sighed, shaking his head. “I tried to rescue her, but alas, she refused my aid. Rather harshly, too,” he explained, disappointment evident in his tone.
The mayor nodded sympathetically. “Ah yes, she can be… difficult. That’s kind of why we locked her in there to begin with…” he confessed—”but now you intend to marry the dragon?!”
Lancelot hesitatingly gave a nervous smile and nodded as the dragon swooped her head down next to him. “The treasure is payment for our marriage,” she declared, a grin revealing her sharpened teeth.
The mayor’s gaze flickered with avarice at the mention of the treasure, but he quickly masked his intentions with a false smile. “Well, in that case,” he said smoothly, “we must make arrangements for the wedding at once!”
Despite the protests of the townsfolk, the mayor managed to convince them that Lancelot had tamed the dragon and that the wedding would bring prosperity and peace to their troubled town. The townspeople ultimately agreed to attend the ceremony, albeit with trepidation and fear gnawing at their hearts.
Summoning the town priest, the mayor orchestrated a hasty ceremony, urging Lancelot and the dragon to exchange vows before the gathered crowd. As the priest uttered the words, “you may now share true love’s kiss,” a sense of anticipation hung heavy in the air.
Lancelot and the dragon leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender embrace, and in that magical moment, a brilliant light began to swirl around them, growing brighter and brighter until it enveloped them in a blinding glow.
When the light finally faded, the townsfolk opened their eyes to a sight beyond their wildest imaginations. Standing before them were now two dragons—majestic creatures bathed in the radiant glow of love’s true form.
Lancelot suddenly found himself inhabiting the body of a great dragon, his once-human form now replaced by scales and wings. At first, he was struck with confusion, but as he took in his new form, a sense of exhilaration washed over him.
Beside him, his dragon wife looked at him lovingly, letting out a joyful laugh. “Oh, I’ve always wanted a red wedding!” she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with excitement.
Lancelot nodded in agreement, and together they rampaged through town happily ever after.
Down Here on Earth 