“Well, I am Joe ... uh, Sir Joe the Magnificent,” I said, borrowing my uncle’s stage name. “These are my companions, Sir Fred the Awesome, and Sir Sam the, ummm ... Sir Sam the Unusual.”
Sam gave me a nasty look.
“Welcome, enchanters. But we have not a moment to lose,” said Lancelot. “Camelot is be sieged by Smaug the Dragon from the West and by Bleob the Giant from the East. Mount behind us. We ride at once.”
“Huh?” said Fred, still striking a heroic pose on the Black Knight’s chest.
“He said if we hitch a ride with them, we can go to King Arthur’s castle and fight a dragon and a giant.”
“That’s great,” said Sam. “You invite us to a birthday party, almost get us run through by a Black Knight, and now you get us into a fight with a dragon and a giant. Remind me not to come to any more of your parties, Sir Joe the Magnificent.”
We hopped on the horses behind Sir Lancelot, Sir Percival, and Sir Gawain.
“But dragons and giants and things like that aren’t for real,” said Fred.
“I didn’t think the Knights of the Round Table were for real, either,” I said. “But if they’re not, who are we riding behind? And where are we going?”
FIVE
Fred, Sam, and I stood in the middle of the Great Hall of Camelot. Torches sputtered on stone walls that disappeared high in the darkness above. Knights and ladies dressed in robes and cloaks of all colors surrounded us. Dogs and little kids ran in and out of the crowd.
“Welcome, enchanters,” said a. tall, serious-looking fellow. It had to be King Arthur. Who else would be wearing a crown and sitting on a throne in the middle of Camelot? “Sir Lancelot tells me thou has rid us of that scourge, the Black Knight. How can we show our thanks?”
“Oh, thankest you, Your Honor, I mean Your Sire, Your Majesty,” I said in my best old-time English. “That was mostly Sir Fred’s work.”
Fred raised his stick and took a bow. The crowd oohed and ahhed.
“Maybe you could help us out, King, sir, uh, Sire,” I said. “See, we were in the middle of a birthday party at my house and we’d like to get back before the ice cream melts. Do you know the way to New York?”
King Arthur slid his crown back and scratched his head. “York, yes. But New York, New York?”
“Yeah, that’s it,” said Sam.
“Hmmm. The name ringeth no chimes. Merlin, knowest thou this place, New York?”
An old guy in a long blue-black robe and tall cone hat shuffled forward. He looked us over with flashing green eyes that gave me the willies.
“I know not New York. But methinks these three be poor enchanters who cannot find their own way home.”
The surrounding crowd murmured.
“Nasty old coot,” whispered Fred. “Who asked him to butt in? Maybe I should just give him a whack with my stick before he gives us any more trouble.”
“Another great idea from the mind of Sir Fred,” whispered Sam. “Hit the King’s magician. I’m sure he won’t mind. He’d probably reward us with a place to stay for the rest of our lives. A place like a dungeon, maybe.”
I could see we were losing the crowd. I had to do something, fast.
“Oh, we’re enchanters all right,” I said. “I am Sir Joe the Magnificent.”
The crowd ahhed. We had them back.
“Would you show us some small spell of enchantment for our amusement, Sir Joe the Magnificent?” asked Merlin. And then he stood there, giving us one of those looks teachers give when they ask you a question they know you could never answer in a million years.
“Yes, please show us a spell,” said the lady sitting next to King Arthur. Queen Guenevere. How could I turn down the Queen?
“Spell, you say?” My palms got sweaty while I stalled for time, trying to think. “Yes, a little spell.”
“Spells? Oh, yeah. Oh, sure,” said Sam. “Sir Joe the Magnificent here is a regular magician.”
I thought of Uncle Joe.
“Magic? Of course. Bring me cards.”
The court jester brought a deck of cards with all sorts of crazy pictures on them. There were no suits or numbers that I could tell. Just a lot of strange pictures.
I shuffled the cards and pressed the deck to my forehead like the real Joe the Magnificent did at his shows. “Yes, I am feeling the power of the cards, now. Could I have a volunteer from the audience?”
The Queen stepped forward. She stood right next to me and I thought I would faint, she was so beautiful. No wonder Lancelot was crazy about her.
I reshuffled the cards and tried to concentrate on the trick. “Just a deck of cards. Nothing up my sleeve. Now you see ‘em. Now you don’t.” I fanned out the deck facedown. “Pick a card. Any card.” Sam groaned. Guenevere picked. “Show everyone the card, please.” And while everyone looked at the Queen’s card, I snuck a peek at the card I would put right in front of hers. It was a guy hanging upside down.
“Now place it back in the deck. And I will have the cards speak to me, and tell me which one of them you picked.”
I carefully reshuffled the deck to keep the Hanged Man in front of Queen Guenevere’s card. Then I muttered all of the magic words I could think of. “Hocus-pocus. Presto, change-o. Open sesame. The cards are about to speak.” I flipped the cards slowly and made a big deal of listening to each one just like Uncle Joe did. The crowd wasn’t making a sound. I flipped the Hanged Man. I flipped the next card, listened to it for an extra second, and then held it up. “Your card, my lady.”
“The Magician card. ‘Tis truth,” said Guenevere.
The crowd cheered.
Guenevere kissed me.
I turned to iellv.
“Faith, sir. A fair little trick,” croaked that killjoy, Merlin. “But can thou do a true enchantment? A spell to change man to frog, or to vanish in thin air?”
The challenge hung there like a bad smell in a phone booth. The crowd went silent, waiting for our answer. Suddenly, a messenger burst through the doors at the far end of the Great Hall.
“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.”
SIX
Now, you’ve probably read about giants in fairy tales. And you’ve probably seen giants in comic books and cartoons. But you haven’t really experienced giants until you’ve met one up close. And once you’ve done that, believe me, you would be perfectly happy to never, ever meet another one.
I knew giants were big.
I had no idea they were so disgusting.
We stood on one side of the castle moat with King Arthur, Merlin, and the Knights of the Round Table. Bleob stood on the other. He was a terrifying sight. And an even more terrifying smell.
He towered at least twenty feet, wore no clothes except two bloody ox hides tied around his waist, and hid the largest and ugliest face I have ever seen behind a crazy mess of black hair. Rotted bits of meat and bone, tree branches, giant drool, and cow manure drew a cloud of flies around his beard. If the sight of Bleob wasn’t enough to make you cry, the smell of him definitely was.
For the first time in my life, I was speechless, and a bit dizzy
.
“Make haste with the magic,” said Merlin. “The foul air doth dull the senses.”
Sam nudged me and handed me a little stick he had split halfway down the middle. He and Fred had already clamped their noses with Sam’s homemade clothespins. I quickly did the same.
“Heddo, Misduh Giant,” I said, talking through my plugged nose. “How can we hep you?”
And do you know what he answered? Of course you don‘t, because you weren’t there. Well, I’ll tell you the truth. He belched. A long, loud, wet, noisy, and totally disgusting burp.
Sir Percival and the three knights closest to him raised their shields. They were too late, and took the full force of that awful blast. All four fainted dead away.
“Give Bleob three fair damsels to eat now, or Bleob smash castle,” said you-know-who.
And I almost hate to tell you what he did next. Let’s just say that when he snorted, he knocked down two more knights with one blow. And he didn’t use a Kleenex.
Merlin gave us the hurry-up eye. I figured there was no way to stop this monster and was just about to yell, “Every man for himself!” and run, when Sam stepped forward.
“Now just a minute, Mr. Bleob,” said Sam, adjusting his glasses. “You can’t go around treating Knights of the Round Table like that.” He pointed to the pile of knights covered with green giant slime. “We are three very powerful magicians who could wipe the floor with you if we wanted. But we’re in a good mood today. So we’ve decided to give you a chance to have your wish come true. Right, fellow magicians?”
Fred and I looked at Sam, each other, and back at Sam again. We didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about.
Bleob looked just as confused as we were.
“Right,” we said.
“Since you fairy-tale giants are always asking people, riddles, we’ve decided to give you a chance to save your miserable skin by answering our riddle. If you answer the riddle, you can eat your fill of fair damsels. If you can’t answer the riddle, you leave and never return. Okay?”
Bleob answered in a way too rude to describe. We grabbed our stick clothespins and ducked. Ten brave knights fell like bowling pins, victims of gas warfare.
“I’ll take that to mean ‘Yes,’ ” said Sam. “So, for all the marbles—why did the giant wear red suspenders?”
“Why did giant wear red suspenders,” Bleob repeated slowly to himself. He raised an arm to scratch his head, and unleashed a storm of flies and a poisonous whirlwind of armpit odor that struck down another five knights.
“Because he ... uh ... because ... duh ... because red was giant’s favorite color!”
“Bzzz. Wrong,” said Sam. “He wore red suspenders to hold his pants up. You lose. Good-bye.”
Bleob shook his head and scratched it again. Two fish heads and one rotten apple core fell out. Everyone held their breath. Bleob turned to go.
Fred and I clapped Sam on the back. We were just about to go razz Merlin when we heard the awful sound. It was another bone-rattling, teeth-chattering, giant ... burp.
“Duh ... hey. Wait a minute. You trick Bleob. Giants no wear suspenders.”
The angry giant turned and stomped back toward us. Even the trees shook.
“Bleob not like little peoples what trick him. Bleob crushes little peoples what trick him.”
Bleob stepped over the moat like it was a puddle. He raised one foot (which I won’t even describe because it would spoil your appetite for a week) to crush us all.
SEVEN
We all ran for the castle.
All of us, that is, except Sam.
Sir Sam the Unusual stood there with his arms folded across his chest, not moving an inch.
“Run for it, Sam,” yelled Fred.
The huge dirty foot started coming down.
“He’s finally lost his mind,” I said. “All of those bad jokes and riddles finally ate his brain.”
Sam checked his fingernails and said, “Well, I guess the dragon was right. I should have believed what he told me about giants.”
The monster foot stopped in midair, one black and muddy big toe just inches from Sam’s head.
“What dragon say about giants?”
“Oh, it really wasn’t very nice. I don’t think I should repeat it.”
Bleob stepped back. He got down on his hands and knees.
“Tell Bleob what dragon say about giants.”
Sam leaned forward and spoke in a loud whisper. “Don’t tell him I told you, but he said giants are big weaklings.”
“No.”
“Yes. And he said giants are really just giant sissies who can only smash little tiny things like people.”
“No.”
“I’m not kidding. He said if you ever fought someone your own size, like a dragon, you would get your butt kicked.”
“No!” roared Bleob one more time. And then he picked up two boulders, each as big as a car, and ground them to gravel with his bare hands. “Giants stronger than anything. Crush dragons like that, too.”
Sam winked at us and jerked his head toward the other side of the castle.
“Why is he twitching?” asked Fred.
“Show Bleob dragon. Bleob show you how giant fight.”
“Show you a dragon, eh?” said Sam, jerking his head again.
Then I got what Sam wanted us to do.
“The dragon, Sir Sam!” I yelled. “The dragon is approaching from the West!”
Bleob stood up, scratched his head, and burped. He didn’t seem to know quite what to do.
“Well, what do you know?” said Sam. “This must be your lucky day. There’s a dragon right on the other side of the castle. Here’s your chance to show a dragon what a giant can do.”
Sam’s idea sunk slowly into Bleob’s thick skull. “That good idea, little man. Bleob show dragon what giant can do.” And he charged off around the corner of the castle, knocking three trees and two huts flat, and shaking the ground for five miles in every direction.
Everyone still standing followed Bleob (not too closely) around the castle, just in time to see Smaug the Dragon gliding in for a landing. He was truly a terrible sight—big, ugly green head trailing wisps of smoke, shimmering metal scales, huge leather wings, coiling snake body, and iron claws.
Fred gasped, “They are for real.”
Just as Smaug touched down, Bleob smashed into him.
“Sissy?” he belched. And then he clamped his long yellow teeth right on the dragon’s snout.
Smaug dug his iron claws into Bleob’s leg and thrashed his spiked tail. The two of them twisted up such a cloud of broken trees and flying earth that we couldn’t see a thing.
We did hear how it happened, though.
Bleob belched. Smaug flamed. And when giant gas met dragon flame, an explosion bigger than four Fourth of Julys knocked us off our feet and rocked the entire kingdom.
“Huzzah!” cried King Arthur and his sitting knights.
“What did they say?” asked Sam with a smile.
“That’s hooray, Sir Sam. Nice magic work.”
We ducked under a castle arch to dodge the pieces of fried giant and dragon meat raining down.
“Thou has saved Camelot and the honor of the Round Table,” said King Arthur. “Ask anything in my power, and it is yours.”
A giant toenail fell nearby with a thud.
“How about getting us back home?” said Sam.
The last few small pieces splattered down outside in a gentle rain.
Fred and I nodded, wondering if we would ever see Home, Sweet normal, peaceful Home again.
EIGHT
Keep your eye on the ball,” yelled Fred. ”Choke up a little. Follow through. Meet the ball. Don’t try to kill it. Just meet the ball. Ready?”
The stableboy looked completely confused. But he nodded yes, and gripped Fred’s oak stick in a pretty good imitation of a batting stance.
Fred stood on a mound at the bottom of a tall, dark, stone tower connected to the ca
stle wall.
“Okay, here’s the pitch.” Fred lobbed our homemade baseball gently toward home plate. The stableboy swung as hard as he could ... and missed by a mile.
I caught the ball and Sam yelled, “Strike three! Yer out!” All of the boys cheered and began racing around the bases and yelling.
“One home run.”
“Babe Ruth.”
“Detroit Tigers.”
“Bo knows.”
Fred walked off the mound and met us at home plate. “Do you think I didn’t explain enough?”
“Methinks maybe you explained too much, Sir Fred,” said Sam.
The guys kept circling the bases, jumping and yelling as they crossed home plate.
“Full count.”
“Infield fly.”
“Suicide squeeze.”
“Oh, man,” said Fred. “This is never going to work. We have got to get out of here. This is like the Stone Age. Those guys at the banquet last night hadn’t even heard of TV.”
“Gosh, what a surprise,” I said. “Considering that TV won’t be invented for another thousand years or so.”
“A thousand years?! I can’t live without TV for a thousand years,” said Fred.
“And did you get a whiff of those people at the banquet?” asked Sam. “I don’t think the shower has been invented yet, either.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think the smell might have been coming from the food.”
The stableboys slowed down and sat on the grass around us.
“Ninth inning?”
“Ball four?”
“Kill the ump?”
“That’s it, guys. Game over,” said Fred.
Sam looked at the castle walls around us. “No TV. No cheeseburgers. We are three 20th century guys time-warped into the Middle Ages. Score: Squires of the Round Table, 28; Time Warp Trio, 0.”
“Hey, nice name,” I said. “Remind me to remember it if we ever get out of here alive.”
“Speaking of which,” said Fred. “How do we get out of here?”
I tossed our leather ball up and down. “If somebody had let me read my magic book, I might know.”