I really shouldn't be starting another story but…I was really bored. This isn't always a good time to start a story, as most ideas will be really random. Alas, my muse refuses to croak. So, I give you…

Diary of the Knight(s)

Lancelot

We're all going to die.

While this may sound a bit melodramatic (but wait, melodrama hasn't been invented yet…fuck…but wait, neither has that…) it is quite accurate. As I sit here, bouncing along on my trustworthy steed, I feel like whacking Arthur over the head. He definitely deserves it. I happen to like being alive. He apparently has a death wish.

Idiot.

I suppose that isn't strictly true. Arthur is very competent in many areas in life, such as dancing, floral arrangement, tomfoolery, and the man makes a mean pancake. He isn't the greatest commander, however. All the pancakes in the world simply cannot redeem that fact. The other day, when the funny looking blue people attacked, he actually wrung his moisturized hands and did nothing but whimper. Tristan's hawk led the charge instead, and as much as I hate to admit it, the bird is more helpful than our brave and fearless leader. Don't tell Tristan. The man would gloat about it for days.

Not that Tristan actually gloats verbally. No, Tristan lacks social skills, unlike yours truly. He generally sends one gloating looks instead, which are oftentimes worse. When I snap and yell at him at such times, mothers grab their children in fear, trying to shield their eyes from the unstable individual (me, apparently) I really think Tristan enjoys such spectacles. As long as he appears to be the voice of reason, he remains smug. I will wipe that smug look off his face one day. It is simply a matter of planning. I really am quite clever when I set my mind to it.

So clever, in fact, that I have started this diary. Now, you may say "but wait, this isn't historically accurate, the knights wouldn't have been able to write!" I say bully to you. I can write what I want. So there.

Anyway, I fully intend to give you (my fabulous readers) a detailed account of my adventures. I'm sure you will all be riveted by my stunning prose, my rapier wit, my charming cynicism…oh, the list goes on and on. What more could you be looking for in a diary? Well, I suppose I could throw in a few liaisons along the way…wouldn't want to disappoint my adoring public.

You really are an idiot, aren't you, Lancelot?

What is this? This is my diary! Mine! Not yours, Bors! Ooooo…that rhymes!

Oh, shut up. Please. Before you embarrass yourself.

What is wrong with you, Bors? Honestly, how would I embarrass myself? You are simply jealous, that's it! You're just jealous that Vanora is my sweetiebum!

Sweetiebum? What? Just remember what happened last time you called her that…she decked you.

She was confused. She thought I was you.

Right.

You know, Bors, you're behaving in a most "un-Bors-like" manner. Your grammar really isn't all that bad.

I use spell-check.

That's cheating!

Is not.

Is too!

Do you really want to have this argument in our diary?

"Our" diary? No. It's MY diary. Mine! Mine! Mine!

Why should you have all the fun?

None of you lot would have anything interesting to add! Everyone knows that I am the only knight worth hearing about! They don't want to hear about how little you have to handle "down there"

OUR Diary it shall be. Or I'll sick Vanora on you.

You must resort to threats to get your way? That's low. Low. I'm going to tell her you're invoking her name in vain again!

You thought my threat was bad?

Actually, yes, I did.

You're right, it was. So, We will all be entertaining you, with tales of our grand adventures. If, however, this diary falls into the wrong hands- which I'm sure it will, given Lancelot's first statement- then I hope you put this to good use. Read it at a party, after sex, at the latrine. We all know how important a good story is, and with a storyteller like me, well, this one is really important.

Are you feeling sentimental, Bors? I think you are. Guess what else I think?

I will not dignify that question with a response.

Ah, but you did. Anyway…I think Bors has been getting in touch with his feminine side.

What feminine side? Aren't you talking about Arthur?

There's something in the air. The other day, I saw Galahad frolicking among the wildflowers.

He always does that.

Bad example. Here's another one. I can actually tell the natural shade of Gawain's hair. That means he must have bathed at some point. Talk about creepy. I bathe occasionally, as my "social agenda" demands it, but Gawain really has no need to bathe. I take care of all of the serving wenches just fine on my own. They don't need him.

Well, on the bright side, we're all going to die soon anyway, so this behavior won't really matter in the long run.

That's what I like about you Bors. Your never failing optimism. Please excuse me while I go hit my head against that tree…

Waiting…Waiting…I suppose I should get this in now while he's away. Lancelot wears women's undergarments…you didn't hear it from me!

…And that tree looks like fun too…I'm back now.

They can all read that, you prat.

But Bors, the word "prat" hasn't even been invented yet.

Hold your tongue, you smarmy bastard. Didn't your mother teach you manners?

No.

I pray for her everyday. Hoping that somehow, she has overcome the sight of your great ugliness, which I am forced to look upon even now.

Now I know you're jealous.

How is it in dreamland, my boy?

It's quite nice, actually. How is it on that ass you're riding?

Insults to Vanora I will tolerate. Insults to my horse are another matter. Prepare to die, Lancelot. Do you have any last words?

Many. But you can hear them latter. Right now, Woads are going to shoot us all.

They could have picked a better time.

Complain to them. I'm but the humble messenger.

HUMBLE? I cannot believe you used that word in reference to yourself.

If it is a comfort to you, Bors, you will die in perfect grammar.

Wish I could say the same for you. That last sentence was pathetic. "In" perfect grammar? What is that?

If people could provide me with a list of era appropriate curses, that would be most helpful. Otherwise, I will simply have to make do with what I have. Review, and let me know what you think.