When Sir Galahad arrived at Castle Pembley in search of the Holy Grail, they directed him to the kitchen.
“The puss needed something to eat ‘is fish from,” explained the scullery maid. “No ‘un was using it, so I nicked it for Carl.”
Sure enough, the word Carl was carved into the sacred cup’s base.
“Sacrilege!” cried Sir Galahad, and he reached for his sword. But he underestimated the power of the Grail. Years of meals eaten from the blessed chalice had bestowed Carl with seventy times seven lives.
Now Arthur’s looking for another MacGuffin to send his knights after.
This one’s somewhat based on a true story. Last week, I hit the thrift shops with a close friend of mine, and for some reason we kept running across grails. Big grails like trophies. Small grails, like a child princess might drink out of. And one grail belonging to someone named Carl.
I have no idea who Carl is, and why he has a grail with his name engraved on it. Was Carl a person? Was he a great Knight whose deeds have gone unsung in the annals of history?
Maybe, just maybe, he was a cat.
If Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade has taught me anything, it’s that drinking out of the Holy Grail gives you a magic healing factor, kind of like Wolverine of the X-Men (not to be confused with the XXX-Men). But Carl’s been eating Fancy Feast out of the Holy Grail for years. That’s got to do something for his nine lives. I bet he’s basically immortal by now.
Don’t you dare touch his Grail.
What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever found at a thrift shop?
- Off-topic Microfiction: The Last Temptation of Ginger (rckjones.wordpress.com)