Oh man this one. I can tell you about it, since I've had a clear idea for this one, but I can't find the name. I know it exists, though; I read it.
When he was pretty young, and on a fantasy kick after bro made him read LotR (which he liked a lot holy shit), he discovered the Arthurian mythos. This shit was like crack to him. Knights, wizards, fantasy - even if he never admitted it, dude had a soft spot for it. Less the wizards and more the knights in shining armor. They were coolkids, pure and simple, even (especially) when they were being complete douchebags to everyone around them. Even though he'd never have admitted it, he kept reading that shit.
Dave, looking for something to read at the ripe young age of like 10 or 11, went to the school library and checked out yet another old (read: 1980s/1990s) book with King Arthur listed as a tag. YET THIS WAS NO ORDINARY BOOK. Modern day setting, the knights are a biker gang, everyone's kind of an asshole, the main villain's this psycho who slits women's throats and plasters them into a statues of washerwomen, and Arthur is kind of an idiotic twerp. (HM A DERP FOR AN HEIR TO THE THRONE DOES THIS SOUND FAMILIAR...)
The book was not written particularly well, but Dave couldn't have given less of a shit. He wasn't in this one for the prose - the concept alone was pretty much the greatest thing ever. A knight of the round table, wearing a leather jacket, tattoos all the hell over, shaved head and on a motorcycle. It was like the book wasn't even trying to be an ironic outdated piece of shit - that just came naturally.
Someday, if Dave could ever have found a motorbike in Sburb, he would've made the sleekest ride he could've, alchemized a leather jacket and sleek shades, and ridden around on his trusty fucking steed as a true Knight of ironic allusions. All thanks to that goddamn book.
no subject
When he was pretty young, and on a fantasy kick after bro made him read LotR (which he liked a lot holy shit), he discovered the Arthurian mythos. This shit was like crack to him. Knights, wizards, fantasy - even if he never admitted it, dude had a soft spot for it. Less the wizards and more the knights in shining armor. They were coolkids, pure and simple, even (especially) when they were being complete douchebags to everyone around them. Even though he'd never have admitted it, he kept reading that shit.
Dave, looking for something to read at the ripe young age of like 10 or 11, went to the school library and checked out yet another old (read: 1980s/1990s) book with King Arthur listed as a tag. YET THIS WAS NO ORDINARY BOOK. Modern day setting, the knights are a biker gang, everyone's kind of an asshole, the main villain's this psycho who slits women's throats and plasters them into a statues of washerwomen, and Arthur is kind of an idiotic twerp. (HM A DERP FOR AN HEIR TO THE THRONE DOES THIS SOUND FAMILIAR...)
The book was not written particularly well, but Dave couldn't have given less of a shit. He wasn't in this one for the prose - the concept alone was pretty much the greatest thing ever. A knight of the round table, wearing a leather jacket, tattoos all the hell over, shaved head and on a motorcycle. It was like the book wasn't even trying to be an ironic outdated piece of shit - that just came naturally.
Someday, if Dave could ever have found a motorbike in Sburb, he would've made the sleekest ride he could've, alchemized a leather jacket and sleek shades, and ridden around on his trusty fucking steed as a true Knight of ironic allusions. All thanks to that goddamn book.