Ray’s Round Table #7 - King Arthur Actually Plugs His New Book

Here I am, Ray Pistrum, Sun God Trainee, again, one on one with King Arthur, King of the Britons. King Arthur, this time I have personally filled up your Oxygen bottle. You should not run out, ever. So take your time and as many drags as you feel like you need. Now before we get to your new book, I have just one more question that’s killing me. Which would you rather have in your lap at this nonce, Gwenhwyfar or Cerrridwen’s Cauldron that some call the Holy Grail?

Easy that Ray, Gwenhwyfar. No hold it. First I would have the Cauldron just for one dip. Then, I would have Gwenhwyfar for keeps. I should not make the same mistake, twice.

Yep. That makes a lot of sense King Arthur. But if you had only one shot, at one or the other, which would you choose?

I would sit it out, Ray. Let the Goddess decide.

Spoken like a Druid, King Arthur. That’s what Red ovated you would say. Hey. You don’t need the Oxygen bottle?

Noper Ray. I must have adapted somewhat to the various fumes in these parts. Except your sister. Does the Lovely Druidess always emit the aroma of violets?

Yepper. That particular aroma is industrial strength violets provided by Nancy, Goddess of Practical Jokes from the Joke Factory. It’s one of Rayetta’s spells, creating confusion and uncertainty among all who whiff it. Anyone who gets a whiff, is easy for Rayetta to boss around. Even me and Crumby. Although, due to long exposure, the twain of us are more immune than most, maybe. Uh. What about that new book of yours King Arthur? We need to get that rascal climbing the list. Tell us about it.

Well Ray, my new book, tome really, Kin Selection among the Ancient British, is an exciting recounting of all those of my kin who made great personal sacrifices to insure the survival of my kin, generally. Without those sacrifices, even I, King Arthur, might have never existed. Might nothing. I, King Arthur, would have never existed. One example. My great uncle, many times removed, Hu ap Roger had a beautiful sister. Hu wanted to keep his sister for himself. But instead, Hu agreed, for the good of the whole family, to trade his sister to my great grandfather, several times removed, who happened to be Hu’s younger brother. But then Hu was captured by wild Turnip Giants while trying to sneak his sister, my great granny, several times removed, across the county line. The Turnip giants ate Hu. Yet Hu, before he got put in the stew, rolled around in the mistletoe berries. So when the Turnip Giants ate the stew, they all got poisoned to death. The demise of Uncle Hu enumerates as the Fourth Greatest Kin Sacrifice by my kinfolk, eventually allowing me, King Arthur, to arrive on the scene.

What happened to your beautiful great granny, several times removed? Did she get et by the Turnip Giants too, or worse?

You shall have to read my book, Ray. But I’ll give you a hint. Have you ever heard of Merffhwyn?

Uh. Maybe! He’s the famous conjurer. Right?

Correct. Well in those days, Merffhwyn was on the carnival circuit in Devon. Merffhwyn, just like me, fell into the young blonde pitfall. So pretty soon my beautiful great granny, several times removed, may have found herself a job, dancing hoochy-cooch in the carnival. But Ray, ye shall have to read my book, to find out all that, fer sure.

Uh. What were the first three greatest kin sacrifices?

Read my book, Ray.

Dang it. All righty then, King Arthur, I shall most likely read your book. It sounds very interesting. Home audience, you should certainly purchase King Arthur’s new book, Kin Selection among the Ancient British. It has lots of pictures. Plus it’s heavy. It’s so heavy, you may want to put it down. But it's so interesting, you won’t want to put it down. So buy King Arthur’s new book, Kin Selection among the Ancient British.

Well King Arthur, are you fixing to head back to Annwn, anon.

That’s right Ray. The Goddess is calling me back to duty in Annwn, anon. Yet I may come again. Let the Goddess decide.

Yepper. Me too. Let the Goddess Decide. Well Home Audience, that’s it for Ray’s Round Table this week. Tune in next week for our Post Thanksgiving Special, Food, Your Loss is Our Gain.

Watch out for the Wicker Man!!!!

Hold it! King Arthur. Lemme see that Oxygen bottle.

Here you go Ray.

Dang it. Uh. OK. Thanks King Arthur. Thanks for everything.

Ray! King Arthur’s taxi is here.

Bye Ray.

Bye King Arthur.

Yay! Everyone assemble to say bye to King Arthur. Lomo! Get King Arthur’s bags. Come again King Arthur. A welcome before you King Arthur. Harooooooooooooooo!!!!

Thus, King Arthur departed from the CB.

Uh. Now that we are all out here in the driveway, I would like to know who switched King Arthur’s Oxygen bottle with the Helium bottle. By the way, that little trick back fired. King Arthur didn’t need any Oxygen. That’s good. Cause he would have got Helium, not Oxygen. Isn’t that right, Crumby?

I am mortified! Mortified and shocked simultaneously Ray, that you should suspect me, your bosom companion. I am entirely innocent, much like a lamb. My fleece is white as the snow that piles up before anybody plays in it. My twain eyes are like small aquariums. Look me in the eyes Ray. You may see all the little guppies.

Well, who did this dastardly deed then?

Ha! It was I, Culwuch that switched the bottles. I failed this time, but I’ll get even Ray Pistrum. Just wait and see, I’ll get even.

There he is. There’s that asshole Culwuch. Get ‘em.

Into the stygian darkness sped Ray, in hot pursuit of his arch enemy the dastardly asshole, Culwuch. Crumby, fervently desired to follow hard upon Ray’s heels. Yet Crumby stayed himself, considering the too recent mystical rehabilitation of his bad knee. Yet Lomo, Lleu Llaw, and Raymone, maybe, would have followed Ray. But Rayetta, spake up, Nay boys, let him go. It is Ray’s destiny. Do not weep, Ray’s twain beautiful girl friends. Let’s go shopping. You too Lometa.

Then all the ladies went shopping.

Where ere the ladies got off to, Crumby?

Shopping Red. They have gone, shopping.

Dang it. The Ladies’ Comfort Station needs a new flapper. All righty then, Crumby. Let’s ovate together fer a minute to espy into the future. Shall the ladies pick up a new flapper?

Time passes.

Noper. Noper.