Free Knights of the Kitchen Table by Jon Scieszka Page A

that “Sir” part because they always talk like that in knight books). “We are not from around here. And we would just as soon get out of here. So if you would just point that long sharp stick of yours—”
    “Silence, infidels, or mayhap enchanters, in thy weird robes and boots.”
    We looked at each other. We were all wearing jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers.
    We looked at the Black Knight. He had on pointed metal shoes, armored pants, an armored coat with hinges at the elbows and shoulders, and a huge metal helmet that looked like a black bell, all topped off with a fluffy black feather. His horse was likewise done up in a black skirt, a black saddle big as an armchair, and a matching helmet thing with a fluffy black feather.
    “Weird robes and boots?” said Sam. “Look who’s talking—the Tin Man with feathers. He even dresses his horse funny.”
    “Enough of thy evil spells and chants, magicians. Prepare to die.”
    “I think I liked ‘None shall pass’ better than that ‘Prepare to die’ stuff,” said Sam.
    The Black Knight flipped down the visor on his helmet.
    “Do something,” said Fred.
    “Like what?” I said.
    “Like ... like ... like, say some magic words!”
    The Black Knight spurred his horse into a trot.
    “Please? Thank you?”
    “Not those magic words, you idiot. Real magic words. Like the ones your Uncle Joe uses.”
    “Abracadabra?”
    The horse picked up speed.
    “Hocus-pocus!” I shouted. “Eenie, meenie, mynie, mo!”
    The Black Knight thundered toward us, his lance pointed directly at us.

    We were about to be killed more than a thousand years before we were even born.

TWO
    But before the Black Knight arrives, maybe I should explain how three regular guys happened to find themselves facing death by shish-kebab.
    It all started with my birthday party. My two best friends, Fred and Sam, were over at my house. We were just sitting around the kitchen table doing birthday kinds of things. You know—eating junk, drinking soda, looking at the baseball my sister gave me.
    My mom started scooping up wrapping paper to throw away. That’s when Sam found the other present.
    “Hey, Joe, here’s one you missed.” Sam held up a small rectangular present. It was wrapped in black and gold paper.
    “Who’s it from?”

    My mom read the card and made a sour face. “Your uncle Joe.”
    “Yahoo!”
    Uncle Joe was the best uncle anybody could have. He was a magician for a traveling circus. And his presents were always the best. Uncle Joe’s stage name was “Joe the Magnificent.” I was named after him. “Before he went off the deep end,” my mother always added.

    “The card says ‘Happy Birthday, Magician-in-training. Be careful what you wish for. You might get it.’ ”
    “This is weird paper,” said Sam, wiggling the present back and forth in the light.
    “I’ll bet it’s one of those disappearing coin trick boxes,” said Fred.
    I took the present. “Maybe it’s a magic cape that can make things disappear.”
    “That would have come in handy last year. You could have used it to make all of those rabbits disappear.” Mom still had her sour face on.
    “Well, that wasn’t really Uncle Joe’s fault,” I said. “I gave the hat the wrong command.”
    “Come on, already. Open it,” said Fred.
    I pulled back the black and gold paper and lifted it up.
    “It’s a ... It’s a ...”
    “Aw, it’s just a book,” said Fred, rolling my baseball around the table.
    And it was a book. But it wasn’t like any book I had ever seen before. It was such a dark, dark blue that it looked almost black, like the sky at night. It had gold stars and moons along the back edge, and twisting silver designs on the front and back that looked like writing from a long time ago.

    I looked closer and read the title. “The Book.”
    “Great name for a book,” said Sam.
    Mom looked relieved.
    “Hey, let me see.” Fred dropped the baseball on the kitchen table and grabbed The Book out of my