Imaginational Dabrowski steps up

Write a story in which someone time-travels 25 years or more into the past.

“That’s the prompt? Time travel! That is my specialty! Where do you want to go and when?”

That was Imaginational Dabrowski, the cute little Bedlington Terrier, who is one of the five canine companion editors for Little Plump Jo, the current Artisan in Residence in Malory Tennyson’s Cloudbank Cabin.

There is debate about the level of reality of the Dabrowski Dogs. Some consider them to be literal dogs; others understand them as personifications of Dabrowski’s overexcitabilities – Intellectual, Sensual, Emotional, Psycho Motor and Imaginational.

Whatever the truth is, the dogs have enabled Malory Tennyson to have contact with his Artisan. This has never been possible previously, in the hundreds of years in which he has hosted authors, artists and other creatives in the field of Arthurian studies. It is probably possible because dogs hear a different range of sound and can hear Malory ranting in his dimension about the way he believes the stories should be depicted.

“So where do you want to go, then?” repeated Imaginational.

“I would like to see the physicians’ tent at a tournament at Camelot” said Jo

“Here we go then!”

Once more Lancelot was being brought to the physicians in a litter.

“It’s that Jenner Sapper knight again” said one of them.

“At least he is unconscious this time. He won’t be so argumentative and difficult.”

“Does he have King Arthur’s Medical Benefits Coverage now?”

“Did he actually sign the paperwork last time? Or do we have to go through all that again?”

The first time the physicians had to deal with Lancelot he had seemed disoriented and likely to black out after a tourney; so several marshals guided him to a litter and sent him to the physicians’ tent.

In the tent they asked Lancelot “What is your name?”

He said “Je ne sais pas.”

They wrote JENNER SAPPER

He said “Non, non, je ne sais pas!”

They wrote JENNER SAPPER (THE RED KNIGHT)

They asked, “Which party had your allegiance in today’s battle?”

He said, “ I fought on King Arthur’s side on behalf of King Bagdemagus.”

They asked “Do you have medical benefits?

He said “Non.”

They said “You should, you know! We advise all jousters to have medical benefits. The premiums are high but it is certainly worthwhile. Would you like to fill out the forms now?

He mumbled “Je ne sais pas” and seemed quite confused.

So they asked, “Do you have need of a translation service for your consultation today?”

He said “Non, but obviously you do!”

They wrote JENNER SAPPER (THE RUDE FRENCH RED KNIGHT) and called for a French translator.

There was a long discussion between Lancelot and the translator about how King Arthur had set up a bulk billing system for the Round Table members. But Lancelot did not know whether he would be eligible to receive the benefits, being a foreigner. Also, he was not ready to sign any legally binding documents because his name and title as heir to the throne of Benoic had not yet been confirmed.

Because it was not obvious where he was wounded they asked him the next question on their list.

“What brings you here?”

He said, “A litter.”

They added a Charge for Litter Transportation to their list of services rendered and there was much further discussion between Lancelot and the translator about medical benefits and levels of coverage and what services would be included.

They said “Very well, Jenner Sapper…”

He became really agitated “Non! Non! Non!”

They said to the translator “Could you ask him what his name is?”

The translator asked “Et ton nom?”

He said “Je ne sais pas!”

They said “Well, what is it?”

The translator said, “I do not know!”

So the translator sent for Merlin.

Merlin said “Lance, have you been taking your herbals?

He said “Oui.”

Merlin said, “Were you hit on the head today?”

Lancelot said, in a highly offended tone, “Non. Of course not!”

“But I was recently poisoned by a wyrm dragon. It was a flame crested copper bellied wyrm dragon.”

The next time the physicians encountered Lancelot he was still suffering from the wyrm dragon poisoning but had now added further wounds gained when he rescued the captives from the Dolorous Tower. He had come to Camelot to participate in another tournament but had gone to rest. Dagonet, the jester, suggested that he should receive treatment from Morgan Todd, the king’s own physician.

But the paperwork had once again proved to be a problem.

Before the consultation a portly scribe asked “Do you have medical benefits coverage and, if so, what level of coverage do you have?”

Lancelot replied “I don’t know. We talked about it last time but I did not sign anything.”

“Well, in that case you are not covered and cannot participate in this tournament unless you sign these papers now.”

“Of course I need to advise you that there is a waiting period before you would be eligible to receive benefits; so any injuries you may receive today would not be covered.”

“The basic cover does not include dental work and trepanning.”

“What about herbal prescriptions and litter transportation?” Lancelot had asked.

“They are not included in the basic cover but can be covered for extra cost as Ancillary Benefits”

“But, anyway, you would not be eligible for the basic level cover because of the risk level of your employment category.”

“Previously existing conditions raise the level of coverage needed and may incur a waiting period. Do you have any pre-existing medical conditions to declare?’

“No” Lancelot had said, crossing his fingers under the wolf skin.

“Thank you milord. I will draw up the papers now.”

The portly scribe left and Morgan Todd entered.

“Someone is telling porkies, I think!” he said. “What seems to be the main trouble today? Do you want to tell me about the blackouts you don’t have? Or do you want to tell me about wyrm dragon poisoning which didn’t happen? Or do you want to tell me about various wounds which are not pre-existing but would not be covered by medical benefits if they happened to appear in this tournament anyway because of the waiting period?

Lancelot had sighed. “This is all too complicated. Can I tell you about all those things without them wanting to invent and then take away from me a jousting licence?”

“I think the wisest course would be for you to not participate in the tournament today and for me to treat you for all these non-existent or non-pre-existing ailments. Then you can participate in the next tournament with a clean slate and a clean bill of health and no waiting period.”

“But if I do not compete, I would have to sit in the royal box and that could be embarrassing for reasons I would rather not discuss.”

“Would you like me to write you a medical certificate?”

“No, because if you do that, the non-existent pre-existing medical conditions will be on record. And besides, I have a Hero’s To Do List which includes that I should be impervious to pain and adversity!”

“Not taking into consideration ‘shoulds’, ‘need musts’ and other peoples’ expectations what would YOU LIKE to do, sir?”

“I just want to sleep for a week and hope they will all go away!”

“That can be arranged. I will treat your wounds and prescribe a wyrm venom antidote which can have the side effect of causing drowsiness. I will order a week’s bed rest with your meals to be sent to your room.”

“But will it all have to be official then?”

“Well, the wyrm venom antidote is only available by prescription and needs to be recorded. But once you have recovered it would not then be a pre-existing condition by the time the next tournament happens.

And you can talk to Merlin about the ongoing need for herbals. That does not need to be recorded.”

“Oh, and when the scribe comes back with the papers you must sign them straight away; otherwise we will have to go through all this again next time.”

“So did he sign them?”

“Apparently not because his claim to the throne of Benoic has not been recognised yet and the scribe told him he could not use an alias or an a.k.a. such as The Red Knight or the White Knight or the Knight with the Three Red Bands on his Shield.

“I am going to stop you, right there,” challenged Intellectual Dabrowski. “The prompt is to write flash fiction, which is strictly speaking up to 1,500 words; and we are getting near to that now.”