In a dimly lit Eliot dormitory that doubled as an arena of absurdity, a cadre of unconventional knights gathered at their makeshift round table to challenge a gargantuan dragon that loomed over their consciousness—a beast as enigmatic as any myth. The knights readied their chalice—a crystal-clear, single-chamber bong bestowed upon them by Merlin, the very seer who had prophesied that four knights would one day rescue Camelot by igniting 12 bowls to defeat a dragon. Unsheathing a neon green BIC lighter, these weed warriors embarked on this epic quest.
While Sir Galahad and Sir Lamorak had honed their craft to near-legend, Sir Tristan and Sir Gawain, though no strangers to the smoke, embraced a more measured flame, their puffs a contemplative counterpoint to the unbridled fervor of their more seasoned comrades.
BOWL I
The knights began the rite by clearing the inaugural bowl and laying bare their credentials for the journey ahead.
Sir Lamorak, who kindled his first flame upon his fourteenth birthday, proved himself the foremost master of the sacred herb. He honors it several times a day, wielding a thoroughly iced bong and favoring the energizing spark of sativa. Sir Galahad, initiated at fifteen, maintained a steady regimen akin to Sir Lamorak—the two often burned their offerings together. Sir Tristan, also inducted at fifteen, maintains a disciplined practice of five or six sessions per week. Lastly, Sir Gawain, whose journey into the realm of smoke began at sixteen, admitted a preference for chops and a more conservative routine of four sessions per week.
Lamorak and Galahad, as the senior-most smokers, attacked the haze with youthful vigor. In the wake of their blazing testimony, Tristan and Gawain affirmed their unwavering resolve with measured puffs.
BOWL II
As Sir Tristan prepared the chalice for the second bowl, the knights pondered whether Merlin had gifted them the optimal relic for this ritual.
Sir Tristan argued that the rolled perfection of a joint could never be bested. However, Sir Galahad held that bowls, as a cross between a bong and a joint, are more versatile and thus better suited to the task at hand.
But Knights Gawain and Lamorak sided with Sir Tristan.
“Joints are much cooler than a bowl,” Sir Lamorak declared. “A bowl, you’re huddled over a little piece of glass. The joint is your bitch. You are the bowl’s bitch.” Little did Sir Lamorak know, he spoke the group’s misfortune into existence.
But alas, with the ritual already underway, there was no turning back.
BOWL III
With the third bowl crafted, and the euphoria mounting, the knights delved into a spirited debate over high-induced pursuits.
Sir Tristan championed the magic of camping—building a fire and basking in its embers. Sir Galahad praised the gym, citing weed’s magical, blood-flow-enhancing properties. Sir Gawain declared sports an underrated joy, a testament to unbridled levity.
Each of the knights’ opinions was met with pushback—but no proclamation was more controversial than Sir Lamorak’s. “Lowkey, drinking is overrated,” he said. The other knights responded with a chorus of “nos”, and Sir Gawain, known throughout the realm as a lover of all ales and spirits, quickly reminded Sir Lamorak of his stupidity.
BOWL IV
Clouds billowing, the third bowl was ashed and emptied, and the knights demanded sustenance to renew their questing spirits. Amid the glowing embers and rising laughter, the debate turned to which fare would fortify their valor.
Sir Galahad extolled the artisanal delights of Tatte, a feast for both palate and soul; Sir Gawain, ever the whimsical epicure, proclaimed Pinocchio’s cheeseburger sub the paragon of youthful indulgence; Sir Lamorak, with his customary pragmatism, opted for the multitude of offerings at CVS; and Sir Tristan, with a mischievous grin, championed Shake Shack’s Double ShackBurger.
Thus, with tastes as varied as their smoky styles, the knights agreed that no noble quest was complete without a proper repast to restore body, mind and spirit.
BOWL V
Readying his sword, Sir Gawain stumbled up to the dragon. The other knights looked on in amazement as he halved the bowl in one deep breath. Mere minutes later, we learned that the dragon’s breath had left its mark. Sentences were hard to shape for our glorious knight; perhaps his throat was burned to crisp. It was at this point that we knew that only a divine elixir could remedy Gawain. So Lamorak, Galahad, and Tristan headed to Stein.
“Maybe this is a bad idea,” Sir Tristan murmured, suddenly recalling the scheduled festivities.
“Should we turn back?” Sir Galahad asked.
But it was too late. Lamorak had already thrust open the door, and the clamor of “Battle of the Bands” filled their ears. Galahad, never good with noise, retreated with his tail between his legs, forgetting the elixir entirely. Knights Lamorak and Tristan fell entranced by the enchanted music. Only when the music stopped did they snap out of the trance and remember why they were there. They brought back the finest elixir of the keg and sustenance in the form of generic pizza. It did not take long for the tonic to take hold—Gawain had been revived.
BOWL VI
“I’m going outside,” Sir Lamorak sputtered.
BOWL VII
After the seventh bowl, the knights, teetering between planes of consciousness, envisioned their transformed selves as animals in battle with the dragon. In that hazy reverie, Sir Galahad recalled how his father, a celebrated math instructor from the House of the Grizzly, had entrusted him with the family crest. Taking the form of a bear, Galahad led the charge.
Sir Tristan followed Galahad into the metaphysical realm, assuming the form of a killer whale.
“They have so much fun,” Sir Tristan said. “When they want dinner, they just go like, ‘let’s grab this guy.’”
Summoning his fierce nature and propensity for stick collecting as a young squire, Sir Lamorak transformed into a wolf. The last knight took a more sentimental approach and transformed into a horse because “that horse movie, Spirit, is fire,” said Sir Gawain.
BOWL VIII
The knights took a break from battle after the eighth bowl to play a game of Codenames. Sir Galahad and Sir Tristan defeated Sir Gawain and Sir Lamorak 9–8.
BOWL IX
The knights once again needed fuel for their journey. First, they raided the vending machine in Eliot’s basement, collecting the leftovers: two Fudge Stripes, two Three Musketeers, and two bags of Lays and Doritos. They microwaved three bags of popcorn before stealing two pizzas leftover from Stein.
Hungry from their trials, the knights devoured the food in seconds. Yet the food was not without consequence—the next morning, Sir Gawain spent an hour and a half in his quarters, wishing he had tightened his belt instead.
BOWL X
By the tenth bowl, the knights had become so confused that they turned on each other, engaging in a form of trial by combat known as Gang Beasts. Fortunately, amidst their fighting, Sir Tristan—the least inebriated knight—realized what was happening. He alerted his comrades that they were mistakenly attacking each other and refocused their attention on the eleventh bowl. Time was of the essence.
BOWL XI
By the eleventh bowl, Knights Lamorak and Galahad were on their last legs; seeing this, Gawain and Tristan mustered all their strength and smoked the eleventh bowl themselves. But no sooner had the last nugget been cleared than Galahad fell on his side, unable to rise to his feet; Lamorak, similarly injured, retreated from the dragon.
BOWL XII
“We have taken you to the promised land. Now, we must die upon its gates,” Sir Galahad muttered with his final breath. As he drifted off into sweet oblivion, Sir Lamorak was carried to the healers to be treated for his wounds. Unable to save his fallen brethren and too weak to assist the last knight standing, Sir Gawain watched in horror and gratitude as Sir Tristan slew the twelfth bowl alone.
The Knights of the Round Table have slain countless beasts together—and will slay countless more.