those ghastly little traps

[ewein2412]

Immigration official  Harbormaster:  Welcome to mainland Britain.  I see from your passport sword that you’re a writer you’re a knight.  What do you write?  Whose knight are you?

E Wein  Mordred:  Well, in fact, I write children’s books I’m a knight of Arthur’s Round Table.

Harbormaster: Going to be the next Sir Lancelot, are you?

An Editor  A damsel in distress:  I like this book but  I could use help, but not yours just now, even though Sir Lancelot has made knights of the Round Table so much more popular these days.

Librarian  Lady Enid:  How are you getting along in Camelot?

Mordred: I’m doing quite well, actually. Arthur’s acknowledged me as his son and he’s going to make me regent if he has to go abroad.

Lady Enid:  Oh, you're going to be the next--I can’t think of the name.  Something to do with a lake--

Mordred:  Spare me, sweet lady, DON’T SAY IT!  Really, I'm not anything like him.  Different style, different ambitions--I'm not well known as a knight yet, but I'm doing well at the moment, and I'm so tired of people saying it!

Lady Enid (laughing):  All right, I understand.  No names mentioned.  [librarian’s husband Sir Geraint enters]  Why, Geraint, have you heard Mordred’s news?  Arthur has acknowledged him as his own son, and is going to make him regent.

Sir Geraint:  Going to be the next Sir Lancelot, are you?

my father in law  Merlin   [anyway someone who SHOULD KNOW BETTER]:  Well, Mordred, I really admired your last book sword work in that duel.  Not that I know anything about books sword work.  But let’s be honest, you’ll never be another Sir Lancelot, will you!  [pause]  Not that I’ve ever read seen Sir Lancelot’s sword work.
Mordred:  yes.  no.  well.

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To each of these jovial remarks, I--who am I, anyway?--I answer in my head: If I woke up one morning and discovered that I had turned into Sir Lancelot I would have to POISON MYSELF.

No, seriously, seriously now, I ask myself this question.  I ask it again and again, when I am most consumed with envy and thwarted ambition.  Would you rather be Sir Lancelot, or Arthur’s own son?  And I swear, if I die in ignominy and hatred and no one remembers me or cares, if I never accomplish another deed in my life, the answer is always, and forever, I would rather be Arthur’s son.

Am I going to be the next Lancelot?  No.  But I would sell my soul to be the next Arthur.