Sir Grabalot And His Maiden Venture
The challenge was intriguing - could a cohesive (or semi-cohesive!) story be written, one sentence at a time, by bloggers in different countries? I posted the first sentence on Thursday morning (Australian time) and it took just over two days, with contributions from the United Kingdom, Canada, the United States, Portugal, India and Serbia. Thank you, everyone, for sharing your wit and for taking part in a fascinating experiment. McGlinch has kindly offered to provide an exclusive GlinchDoodle to illustrate the unusual story. And I can now reveal that the story of Sir Grabalot is to be critiqued by well-known book critic, Toronto-based Lotus Reads.
Here is the story ...
It was a dark and stormy knight. Sir Grabalot had lost his bride.
Curiously, young Stuhd Hawt, Sir Grabalot's trusted knave, was also missing. And with the loss of his bride, away also went his pride. He that is robb’d, not wanting what is stolen, let him not know’t, and he’s not robb’d at all. He was quiet and sad.
Sir Grabalot's soul groaned in despair as he anguished over what his fellow knights would think about the misplaced beautiful bride and absent strapping knave. His thoughts were drawn to his nemesis, the evil Sir Needitall, who had long lusted after the fair maiden Gunsinrosis, and had often brawled with the loyal knave Stuhd Hawt at the Rolling Stone pub. Had it all been just a ruse - the fighting and the brawling - and the squire's allegiance now abided the evil Sir Needitall's cause?
While he was lost in his thoughts, one of his knights came rushing in, out of breath, in his hands a torn piece from his fair wife's cloak. Then he thought: `Darkness was always my ally so I’ll sneak in their dream and if I see that this torn cloak is just to fool me I’ll put reverse clock and the slow mirror in their bedroom, whose reflection will not show their lust but betray them and the clock will turn the time so there’ll be no future and the present for them’!
But then Sir Grabalot's dark doubts faded like a flash of intelligence on GWB's face, when Stuhd Hawt staggered in, gasping that Needitall had indeed carried off the bride Gunsinrosis, after knocking her senseless with his atrocious music.
"M'lord," said Stuhd Hawt, "I have a cunning plan." "I seem to have heard that somewhere before." muttered Sir Grabalot. "You aren't related to that knave Ladbrick, the servant of Lord Back Ladder, by any chance?" "Nay, m'lord," squirmed Ladbrick, "I am the original sayer of sayings. Do you wish to hear my cunning plan?"
"OK. But first, tell me, have you seen this great invention? They're called pants."
``Pants?'' roared the director Flinton Sparrantino, bringing all action on the movie set to a shuddering halt, ``PANTS - we're shooting an Arthurian epic movie here and you can't remember your lines; we're supposed to do a long shot of Sir Needitall returning on his white steed, bringing the fair maiden Gunsinrosis back to the lovelorn Sir Grabalot because the Rolling Stone pub has run out of her favourite ale; and all you can think of is PANTS; this is the scene where Ladbrick's mistress, Sherry Blare, is supposed to appear with her husband, the beleaguered Stoney Blare, who in turn is supposed to deliver the final line: `On 27 June, as the sun sets in the west, I shall reveal that I am in truth Lord Darth Fader and I AM your father.''