Why do you want to be a knight? Is it because you want to wear the shiny armor and ride a pretty horse? Those are both good reasons. But I’m here to tell you that being a knight is harder than you think.
Knights are governed by a strict moral code: the code of chivalry. You must speak the truth and keep your word. You must protect the weak and defenseless. You’ll never hear a knight say something like “No, I didn’t throw a bucket at that orphan.” Instead, a knight would say, “It’s true, I did throw a bucket at that orphan—because he was bullying a weaker, more defenseless orphan.”
As a knight, I am sworn to protect the king’s honor. If I’m at a party and people are insulting the king, it’s my job to tell them, “Hey, come on, you guys.” If the king falls off his horse, it’s my job to dismount my own horse, climb onto his, then fall off and loudly proclaim, “Yep, there’s something wrong with this horse.” If the king needs to urinate while travelling with his entourage, it’s my job to tell everyone to turn around and cover their eyes while he finds a tree. “No peeking,” I order them.
To illustrate just how difficult it is to be a knight, let me tell you a story: Once upon a time, there was a beautiful damsel in distress. Her long, glossy tresses cascaded down over a lace negligee that hugged her figure. . . . I’m sorry, what was I saying?
As a knight, it’s also my job to go on quests for stuff. I know that sounds kind of exciting, but keep in mind that we don’t get to pick which quests we go on, and most of them are pretty Jesus-y.
Or what about standing guard outside the king’s bedchamber? That’s no fun, either. If somebody tries to sneak in, I have to block their path and ask if they know the password. If they don’t know the password, they’re out of luck, because I give terrible hints.
Besides, do you even know how to use a sword? The answer is no, you don’t, because only knights are allowed to have swords—but I’m afraid you’re not qualified to be a knight if you don’t know how to use a sword.
You think you’re so smart because you know that knights wear beautiful, shining suits of armor, but do you know that armor has a practical purpose, too? It’s true. At least, that’s what another knight once told me, and I believe him.
It takes more than brawn to be a knight—you’ve got to have brains, too. You’ve got to know how to put on a suit of armor in ninety seconds flat and, when you realize that you accidentally put on someone else’s armor, how to painfully extricate yourself in two hours, three minutes, and fourteen seconds flat.
Some of the challenges I face as a knight include burns from hot armor, frostbite from cold armor, allergic reactions to armor and/or harsh armor-cleaning chemicals, armor-induced claustrophobia, armor-induced body dysmorphia, armor-induced erectile dysfunction, claustrophobia-induced armor dysmorphia, and erection-induced armor dysfunction.
You think that you’ve got what it takes to be a knight? Don’t be so sure. When the king leads his army into battle, I’ve got to be right there behind him, on the same horse, with my arms wrapped tightly around his waist so I don’t fall off, or sometimes with my hands in the air, going, “Wheeee!”
Are you prepared to do what it takes to stop the peasants from rebelling? The king is always telling me, “Watch out for the peasants. If the peasants rebel, my kingdom will be thrown into chaos.” That’s why I punch every peasant I come across, yet they continue to grow more rebellious.
You’ll never be a knight. You know why? Because a knight has to be calm under pressure. Do you see how calm I’m being right now? This is the exact level of calm I need to be when the king asks if I slept with his wife.
A couple more things before I go. First, a knight must have a flawless sense of direction, and second, a knight has to admit it when he’s wrong. For instance, maybe I’m wrong—maybe you’d make a good knight. Now, if you’ll just point me in the direction of the castle, I’ll be on my way. ♦
