The Invitation

This story contains adult themes.

***

Lancelot lay on his bed, agitated, with the rain pouring outside his window. He had been looking forward to a lavish dinner party at his house that night; he had all the ingredients in the fridge including a delicious Apple Strudeul which he had risked life and limb to buy across the border. And now his friends had rung at the last minute with some lame-assed excuse (so he thought) as to why they could no longer come.

Lancelot was on the bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling hatred towards his friends, convincing himself that they hated him, and logging onto the Internet every 5 minutes just to check if they had changed their mind, or if anyone had sent him any emails. About anything. He didn’t care what the occasion was, he just wanted some emails to distract him from his current state of feeling hurt and make him feel loved and appreciated.

Lancelot logged on for the 6th time that afternoon. Nothing to download except some pesky ads. “I don’t need a bigger anything” grumbled Lancelot and went back to lie down on his bed.

Suddenly Arthur knocked and came into the room.

“Lancey, I was just going to ask if you wanted a cup of…..Oh my goodness! Has there been a hurricane in here or something?”

Lancelot was the messiest of the Knights, with stuff literally hanging about everywhere. Socks and undies pouring outside his drawers, important documents unfiled and tiled all over the floor. A pile of porn magazines dumped messily next to his bed, and all sorts of adornments and a hybrid of objects languishing on his bedside table, like make up, razors, necklaces and CDs.

“Clean it up” ordered Arthur. “I’ve spoken to you about this before.”

“Yeah yeah” yawned Lancelot lazily. “When I’m finished resting.”

Arthur came back two hours later to find the room still messy and Lancelot still lying agog on his bed.

“LANCELOT!” urged Arthur. “Are you listening to me or I am the only one having this conversation?”

“Stop nagging me” complained Lancelot. “You sound like my mother.”

“Are you upset because you’re friends didn’t come over? No wonder with your place looking like a pigsty.”

“That’s NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!” spat Lancelot defensively. “Anyway, they didn’t come over because they had to babysit their next door neighbour’s two year old.”

“But you don’t believe that” said Arthur with deep insight. “You hate being stood up.”

Lancelot said nothing.

“Look, I don’t care whether you’re upset or not, I just want the place cleaned up by tomorrow” ordered Arthur. “And if it’s not, you’ll be banned from going anywhere until you do clean it up.”

Lancelot sighed when Arthur left and logged onto the Internet again. Suddenly, there it was – the invitation he had been hoping for. It wasn’t from anyone he knew or for something that even sounded legitimate, but he didn’t care, it was AN INVITATION.

It read:

SOOKAS AND CHEEKI BABA INVITES U TO RAVEN’ NITE CHAT WITH FELLOW CULT MEMBERS. PARTI AFTERWARDS @ COCO BEACH.

Woohoo! A cult night chat followed by a party! Sounded dangerous and groovy. So he climbed out the window and went to the event.

When he arrived at the event, he noticed how bleak and primitive the town was. There were burning torches atop a modest stone building, and people dressed in black cloaks.

He went in casually as if he were one of the pack. Everyone was sitting in a circle around a big diagram on the floor.

“Sorry I’ve missed the dress code” said Lancelot nonchalantly. “I just got your email and this is my first visit.”

“State your name,” intoned the group leader.

“Lancelot” he replied, then boasted “the best lover in all of Arthurian legend”.

“Really?” said the group leader gravely. “Do you have any idea what this group is about?”

“Dude, teach me” provoked Lancelot. “I’m curious.”

“This group is for the communion of the common good. We do not distinguish our brothers from how fast or fair or strong or clever they are. Any brother seeking to distinguish himself as such must have the ego pummeled out of him. Brother Lancelot, you have been warned, now let us begin.”

One by one each member got up and stated how mediocre and humble he was. For example: “My name is brother Sam, and I used to be thought of the most educated man in Briton. But I have since learned that I am no smarter or no more intellectual than anyone else. And therefore I shall hold my tongue from stating an opinion, for I really know very little.”

And another:

“My name is brother Daniel, and I used to consider myself the most ingenious scientist in the land. But I have since learned that everyone’s ideas are of equal value, and therefore my discoveries are of no consequence, since anyone could equally think of the same idea.”

Lancelot noticed how all the members wore dull expressions and spoke in soft voices. Some were hunched over and others were fidgeting nervously. MEN! He observed, who acted like they didn’t believe in themselves. When it was his turn to introduce himself, Lancelot scoffed and said “You call that enlighting? Sitting around telling each other how pathetic and weak you are. Why would you not seek to glorify yourselves?”

The other group members winced as if “glorify” were a dirty word.

“Brother Lancelot, the presence of your ego is strongly felt in this room” warned the leader passionately.

“But tell me why, tell my WHY?!” insisted Lancelot. “What’s the point in doing this exercise?”

“Gentlemen, we shall have to pause the exercise” said the leader calmly. “While we explain the ego to this infantile and unfertile mind.”

The leader went on to explain the history of stupid wars driven by corrupt men with huge egos, who wanted nothing more than to prove how powerful and immortal they were. And instead of proving anything, they made a huge mess of things by trying to acquire more than what they were capable of.

“And because we seek peace and harmony in our society” explained the leader “we aim to drive the ego out of anyone who seeks to rise above himself. Anyone who thinks he is great shall be made humble, and anyone who circumvents this view shall be physically punished, so that he learns that his ego only serves to humiliate him.”

“No wonder this town is so primitive” observed Lancelot in defiance. “How can man make progress if he does not believe in his own greatness?”

The leader bristled. “Gentlemen, there is an ego here that does not want to have this conversation. Let us show him what the ego is really doing to him.”

“Wait!” negotiated Lancelot, for he had noticed some of the members looking at him with a sparkle in their eyes, barely noticeable but definitely there. “Have you ever given anyone a chance to prove themselves? What if they really were the best at something?”

“It’s all an illusion” debated the leader, now beginning to sound malicious and very manipulative. “All the while you’re believing you’re the best, there is another voice in your head telling you that it is only a matter of time before you slip up and everyone discovers your ungreatness. Why go through the pain of failure when you can just come clean and admit how ordinary you really are?”

Barry, one of the group members, was nodding along to everything with a mixture of curiosity and doubt.

“Barry here is a prime example. Barry used to consider himself the best baker in the world, simply because lots of people came to his bakery and praised him for how….tasty his bread was. As if that is really something to be proud of. Anyway, one day, there was a customer – oh this is REALLY horrid, there was a customer who discovered a rat in one of his bread rolls.”

The whole group muttered their disapproval and Barry’s beaming expression rapidly faded. He hung in head in shame.

“What have you learned Barry?” patronized the leader.

“That I have no idea how to be a decent baker,” replied Barry, hesitating, stuttering, barely audible. “The work I do is not all that great, despite what customers say. The whole rat thing is proof of that.”

“Is that all?” asked Lancelot incredulously. “Where I come from, we find all sorts of things in our food all the time. Just last week I found-“

Lancelot described what he found much to the disgust of the whole group.

“And besides” went on Lancelot, “that incident could have happened to anyone. It doesn’t mean you’re not a great baker.”

Barry looked up and momentarily beamed, then quickly looked down as his self-criticism got the better of him.

By now Lancelot was being dragged away for a severe flogging. But he wasn’t worried, he really knew he was the best lover.

“At least give me a chance to prove myself” said Lancelot. “If you really don’t think I’m the best lover, then you may flog me at will.”

“How can you prove it?” sniped the leader. “Unless you’ve bedded every woman in the land.”

Lancelot gave him a funny look.

“You mean you …..well, ahem” coughed the leader. “How have you fared when the woman was not, how shall we say, a natural beauty?”

“Try me” urged Lancelot. Everyone was now slowly staring up at him; their eyes gradually widening with curiosity.

“Bring Christina in here” invited the group leader.

They brought Christina in. She was overweight and obviously hadn’t shaved in a few weeks.

“Lancelot!” she gasped in recognition, and blushed deeply.

“My favourite” said Lancelot seductively, and made passionate love to her behind the curtain in front of everyone.

For the next four hours Lancelot proved his skills as a lover, sleeping with women who were lame and women who were disproportionate, some who were going grey, one who was bald and others who had terrible acne.

“They are beautiful, all beautiful!” assured Lancelot. To him every woman was exciting, he loved the shape of their neck and the different sizes of their bodies. He loved the way they moaned differently when they came. There wasn’t a single woman brought to him who he didn’t find appealing.

“The most beautiful woman will be hard to please” thought the group leader, becoming consternated by Lancelot’s genuinely good skills as a lover.

But it was too easy for Lancelot, since he knew how to seduce every woman. The most beautiful woman was brought to him and had an instant screaming orgasm with just him lightly running his fingers on the inside of her thigh.

“Anyone else?” asked Lancelot, while she was still shuddering on the floor before them all, breathing and moaning heavily, with her legs clamped tightly together.

The group leader’s heart was breaking. His sex life was incredibly lousy, he found he could never give his own wife enough pleasure in bed. She would just lie there like a dead fish and expect him to do all the work. They hadn’t had decent sex in years.

“Dude” said the group leader, surrendering, “Teach me”.

***

Arthur came into Lancelot’s room the following morning, and found the place spotless. Everything was tidy and just where it should be.

“Wow! What a difference this makes” praised Arthur proudly. “Did a bit of a tidy up for your friends then?”

“I haven’t heard from them” replied Lancelot, who actually wasn’t sure, because he hadn’t checked his emails. “But that’s OK” he continued, “I’m sure they love me just as I am.”

“As do I, Lancelot” said Arthur with brotherly affection. “As do I.”