Knights of the Kitchen Table

Table of Contents

 

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Bleob the Giant stands at the very castle door. He demands three fair damsels to eat instantly.”

King Arthur looked worried. The fair damsels in the crowd looked worse than that.

Another messenger dashed into the hall, nearly running over the first. “Smaug the Dragon has been seen flying from the West. He will be at the castle walls in minutes.”

“Aha,” said Merlin with that evil-teacher voice and smile again. “Here is a perfect test for our enchanters.”

“Go ahead and hit him with your stick, Fred,” said Sam. “At least we’ll be safe from giants and dragons down in the dungeon.”

Fred lifted his stick.

“No, no. We can’t do that, I said.

“What do you suggest we do, Mr. Magnificent?” said Sam.

I looked at Merlin, then at Queen Guenevere.

“I think we should go find out if dragons and giants are for real.”

THE TIME WARP TRIO
®

Special thanks to the Brooklyn Public Library

PUFFIN BOOKS
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Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R ORL, England

 

First published in the United States of America by Viking Penguin,
a division of Penguin Books USA Inc., 1991
Published by Puffin Books, 1993
This edition published by Puffin Books, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2006
10

Text copyright © Jon Scieszka, 1991 Illustrations copyright © Lane Smith, 1991

 

All rights reserved

 

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE PREVIOUS PUFFIN BOOKS EDITION AS FOLLOWS:
Scieszka, Jon.
Knights of the kitchen table / by Jon Scieszka; illustrated by Lane Smith.
p. cm.—(The Time warp trio)
Summary: When Joe, Fred, and Sam are sent back in time by a magic book,
they find themselves face-to-face with giants, dragons, wizards,
and the Knights of the Round Table.

eISBN : 978-1-101-07702-3

[1. Time travel—Fiction. 2. Knights and knighthood-Fiction. 3. Humorous stories.]
I. Smith, Lane, ill. II. Title. III. Series. IV. Series: Scieszka, Jon. Time warp trio.
PZ7.S41267Kn 1993 [Fic]—dc20 92-44475 CIP AC

 

 

The Time Warp Trio ® is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

ONE

Halt, vile knaves. Prepare to die.”

“Is he talking to us?” asked Fred.

I looked around the small clearing. A dirt path went from one end to the other. Fred, Sam, and I stood at one end. A large guy on a black horse stood at the other. He was dressed from head to toe in black armor like you see in those books about knights and castles.

“I don’t see any other vile knaves around,” I said.

Sam cleaned his glasses on his T-shirt and took another look at the end of the path. “Yes, there is a Black Knight down there.”

The sun glinted off a very real, and very sharp-looking sword hanging from the Black Knight’s side.

“And, yes, he looks like he’s planning to hurt us,” added Sam.

“Hey, it’s not my fault,” I said. “I told Fred not to open it.”

“You did not,” said Fred.

“Did, too.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

“Excuse me, guys,” said Sam. “Can we discuss this later? I think that large angry man in the black can is getting ready to kill us now.”

The Black Knight lowered his lance and set his shield in front of him.

“Um ... Hello there, Mr. Knight, sir,” I called across the clearing. “My name is Joe. My friends and I seem to have lost our way from my birthday party. If you could just take us to the nearest phone—”

“None shall pass,” boomed the Black Knight.

“If you could just point the way toward New York we’ll be on our way and—”

“None shall pass!”

“I think I heard that somewhere before,” said Sam.

“Thy tongue and garb art passing strange. Methinks thy band hails not from this shore.”

“What did he say?” asked Fred.

“He said we look funny, and we’re probably not from around here,” I said. “And right you are, Sir Knight,” I called across the clearing (I threw in that “Sir” part because they always talk like that in knight books). “We are not from around here. And we would just as soon get out of here. So if you would just point that long sharp stick of yours—”

“Silence, infidels, or mayhap enchanters, in thy weird robes and boots.”

We looked at each other. We were all wearing jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers.

We looked at the Black Knight. He had on pointed metal shoes, armored pants, an armored coat with hinges at the elbows and shoulders, and a huge metal helmet that looked like a black bell, all topped off with a fluffy black feather. His horse was likewise done up in a black skirt, a black saddle big as an armchair, and a matching helmet thing with a fluffy black feather.

“Weird robes and boots?” said Sam. “Look who’s talking—the Tin Man with feathers. He even dresses his horse funny.”

“Enough of thy evil spells and chants, magicians. Prepare to die.”

“I think I liked ‘None shall pass’ better than that ‘Prepare to die’ stuff,” said Sam.

The Black Knight flipped down the visor on his helmet.

“Do something,” said Fred.

“Like what?” I said.

“Like ... like ... like, say some magic words!”

The Black Knight spurred his horse into a trot.

“Please? Thank you?”

“Not those magic words, you idiot. Real magic words. Like the ones your Uncle Joe uses.”

“Abracadabra?”

The horse picked up speed.

“Hocus-pocus!” I shouted. “Eenie, meenie, mynie, mo!”

The Black Knight thundered toward us, his lance pointed directly at us.

We were about to be killed more than a thousand years before we were even born.

TWO

But before the Black Knight arrives, maybe I should explain how three regular guys happened to find themselves facing death by shish-kebab.