The Dork Knight Read online

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  For Scott, Lauren, Kimberly, Henry, and Delia, who are, I’m told, members of the royal family.

  CHAPTER 1

  Prince Carlos Charles Charming peeked through a tiny opening in the stage curtain. The theater was too dark to see much. His ears, however, gave him lots of information. The air buzzed with murmurs of excitement.

  Carlos knew a large and lively crowd when he heard one. But never before had he stood before a crowd this large or this lively.

  The bells on his jester hat jingle-jangled with anticipation.

  This is it, Carlos thought. The big time. The Village Arena! The biggest theater in Faraway Kingdom! And everybody sitting out there is here to see me!

  An excited old man with brown skin and gray hair joined Carlos at the curtain’s edge. This was Jack the Jester, Carlos’s friend and teacher. Jack taught Carlos everything he knew about jestering.

  “The show is sold out, kiddo,” Jack said with a smile.

  “Sold out?” Carlos’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

  Jack’s smile grew wider. “On the other side of this curtain is an audience of one thousand people.”

  Carlos could hardly believe his ears. “One thousand people!”

  Jack gave the boy a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You’re a star, kiddo!”

  “Wow!” Carlos said. “I am a star!”

  But Carlos’s brain also twitched with worry. Hopefully not too big a star, he thought.

  Carlos’s fingers nervously fluttered over the strings of his lute.

  Maybe I’m pushing my luck.

  Carlos had been secretly performing as a jester for months. His mom and dad, Queen Cora and King Carmine, had no idea he had a secret life. They’d be furious if they found out.

  “A prince,” they often said, “should be princely.”

  Jestering was not princely. It was about as far from princely as a person could go.

  But Carlos had been careful. He usually only jestered at small events, like birthday parties or bar mitzvahs.

  But a big show? In the Village Arena? With an audience of one thousand people? How do you keep something like that secret?

  I’m definitely pushing my luck, Carlos thought.

  But it was too late now.

  The show must go on.

  An announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers: “ARE YOU READY TO LAUGH?”

  The audience whooped and cheered. It was quite a noise, but the noise didn’t seem to impress the announcer.

  “I SAID, ‘ARE YOU READY TO LAUGH?!’”

  This time, the audience went wild. Roars and shouts and piercing whistles filled the theater. Carlos was knocked backward by the wall of sound. A part of him was frightened by the crowd’s intensity. But another part of him—a part that was growing larger and stronger with each passing second—was walking on air.

  Jack leaned toward Carlos’s ear. “You, young’un, are gonna be great.”

  Carlos’s smile stretched from ear to ear.

  The announcer went on, “PREPARE YOURSELF FOR THE MIRTH-MAKING MERRIMENT OF THE FANTASTICALLY FABULOUS FUNNYMAN! THE ONE! THE ONLY! THE JESTER WHO IS BEST-ER! THE GREAT COMI-CARLOS!”

  The curtains parted. The shouts of approval washed over Carlos like a waterfall. It was wonderful.

  Carlos bowed to the crowd.

  The cheers continued.

  Carlos bowed again.

  The cheers went on.

  Then Carlos bowed a third time. And a fourth time. And a fifth.

  He kept bowing, on and on and on, until the cheers were gradually replaced with a new sound: a sprinkling of giggles.

  Carlos kept bowing. Twelve times. Thirteen times. Fourteen.

  The giggles were replaced by chuckles. The chuckles were then replaced by a steady, growing stream of laughter.

  Carlos kept bowing. Twenty bows. Twenty-one.

  The laughter kept growing. Carlos milked the audience for every bit of merriment he could squeeze from them.

  At last, Carlos stood up straight. The crowd was so wrapped up in the silliness of it all that they applauded wildly. They applauded as if not bowing was some kind of an achievement.

  Carlos opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth and bowed some more.

  Big laughs.

  Never before had Carlos felt so in control.

  I have them in the palm of my hand, he thought.

  Carlos couldn’t remember any other moment in his life when he’d felt so perfectly happy.

  His next bow was lower than the ones that came before. Much lower. He paused mid-bow, his head resting near his knees. Then, suddenly, he turned the bow into a somersault.

  Carlos sprang to his feet, acknowledged the newest wave of applause, and plucked a few notes on his lute.

  “Wanna hear a song?” Carlos called out.

  “YEAH!” the crowd boomed.

  “Me, too,” Carlos replied. “Does anyone know how to play this thing?”

  More laughter.

  “Anyone? Anyone? Fiiine, I’ll give it a shot. Sheesh! When is someone going to start entertaining me?”

  Carlos had been playing the lute for only a few months, but it had come to him easily. Music was now a big part of his jester routine.

  He strummed a few chords and began to sing.

  I’m a prince who is also a jester.

  And this is what I like to do.

  When the king and the queen do not notice,

  I sneak off to tell jokes about poo!

  The crowd cheered.

  Carlos paused his strumming. “The other day I ate three cans of alphabet soup,” he said. “This morning I had a vowel movement.”

  The laughter barely had a chance to die down before Carlos continued his song.

  So don’t tell my parents I jester.

  They’d ground me for life if they knew.

  And I’d never get out of the castle,

  To tell you more jokes about poo!

  Another pause in the song. “Why couldn’t the toilet paper cross the sidewalk?” he asked. “Because it got stuck in a crack.”

  More laughter. Carlos strummed the lute once again.

  Thank you for cheering and laughing.

  I promise your smiles will not droop.

  And believe me, I’m just getting started.

  I have plenty of jokes about …

  “Oh, poop,” Carlos said.

  Carlos was supposed to sing “poop” instead of say “oh, poop,” but he had just noticed someone standing at the back of the Village Arena.

  It was someone who looked very familiar. He had a narrow face with tanned skin and dark, tired eyes.

  And a very familiar frown.

  It was Carlos’s father, King Carmine.

  Carlos had pushed his luck, and his luck had run out.

  “Oh, poop,” Carlos said again.

  C
HAPTER 2

  Prince Carlos Charles Charming sat on the cold, marble floor outside the king’s study. He tried to listen through the closed door but couldn’t make out any words. Just sounds.

  But the sounds told him everything he needed to know.

  Carlos could hear the low, calm murmur of King Carmine’s voice. Low and calm were good signs.

  But the king’s murmurs were often swallowed up by the hysterical sobs of Carlos’s mom, Queen Cora. Hysterical sobs were bad signs.

  The longer Carlos sat, the more anxious he became.

  Will I be grounded for life? he wondered. Will they make me mow the eleven square miles of the royal lawn? Sweep the fourteen linear miles of the royal hallways? Polish the 38,000 pieces of royal silverware—including the 238 sardine sporks that nobody ever uses?

  Dang, Carlos thought, there’s a whole lot to clean in Fancy Castle.

  In that moment, Carlos wished he and his parents ruled Faraway Kingdom out of a two-bedroom condo.

  Anxiety began to overwhelm him. He felt his stomach twist. He felt his toes itch. He felt his ears sweat.

  Carlos needed a distraction. He searched his pockets and found what he was looking for: a deck of cards.

  Carlos fanned out the deck. He directed his gaze to a nearby oil painting. It was a portrait of a bony, green-eyed woman holding a ratty dog in her lap.

  “Watch carefully,” Carlos instructed the bony, green-eyed woman. “You watch, too,” he told the rat-dog.

  He held up the fanned-out deck so his oil-painted audience could see the cards. “It’s not a trick deck,” he said. “Every card is unique.”

  Carlos plucked out the joker. “But keep your eye on this guy. This joker is sneaky.”

  He placed the joker on the top of the deck. He shuffled and reshuffled the cards until it was clear that the joker could be anywhere. Carlos lifted the top card from the deck and revealed it to his audience.

  It was the joker.

  Carlos took the joker and shoved it into the middle of the deck. Carlos then lifted the top card.

  It was the joker.

  Carlos’s mind began to shift away from the hysterical sobs coming from the study.

  He took the joker and shoved it into his pocket. He then lifted the top card from the deck.

  It was the joker.

  “What, no applause?” Carlos asked the painting.

  And Carlos shuffled and shuffled again.

  No matter what he did to those cards, the joker always appeared on the top of the deck.

  It looked like sorcery, but the trick was just a little sleight of hand. Carlos knew how to palm cards. No matter how many times he shuffled the deck, the card he wanted was always hidden in his hand, ready to be revealed whenever he felt like it.

  Jack the Jester had taught Carlos the trick. Jack called it “The Sneaky Jester.” Carlos didn’t use The Sneaky Jester in his stage act, but he practiced it all the time. Card tricks kept his hands busy and helped to calm his nerves.

  “Boo-hoo-hoo-hooooooo!” From behind the door, Queen Cora sobbed with renewed vigor, but Carlos hardly heard her anymore. His attention never strayed from the cards.

  Eventually, the study door opened. King Carmine stepped into the hall. He closed the door behind him, placed his back against the wall, and slid down to take a spot on the floor beside Carlos.

  The king rubbed his temples with his fingertips. The man looked like he had a headache all over.

  “Your mother’s a little upset,” the king said finally.

  “Yeah,” Carlos replied.

  “Do you understand why she’s upset?”

  “Because I’m a jester?”

  “No,” the king said. “Well, yes. But there’s more. Your mother is also upset because you broke a promise to her. You broke a promise to me, too.”

  “I’m sorry,” Carlos said right away.

  The king knew a knee-jerk apology when he heard one. He ignored it and continued, “You promised your mother and me that your jestering would be a hobby. You promised us that this hobby would never leave the privacy of the castle. That’s why we allowed you to continue your training with Jack.” The king sighed. “We trusted you. And you lied to us. You jestered outside the castle. You jestered all across the kingdom. And today you jestered in a one-thousand-seat arena. You made your mother and me look foolish in front of our royal subjects.”

  The words hit Carlos like a punch in the gut. It was true. He had made a fool out of his mom and dad. In his song, Carlos had mocked their ignorance. He didn’t mean to mock them, but he had.

  “I’m sorry,” Carlos said again. This time he really meant it.

  “Thank you,” the king replied. “Your mother and I have discussed your actions. After much deliberation, I have decided what to do with you.”

  “Are you going to send me to the dungeon?” Carlos asked.

  The king’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Why on earth would I— We don’t even have a dungeon!” The king gave Carlos an irritated look. “Carlos, just shush. It has not been a good day.”

  Carlos shushed.

  The king paused a moment to organize his thoughts. “I understand why you broke your promise to your mother and me.”

  “You do?” Carlos asked.

  The king nodded. “You need to entertain people.”

  “Yes!” Carlos was surprised that his father could even begin to understand this. “I love to entertain people.”

  “And you feel that being a prince doesn’t give you any chance to entertain people,” the king said.

  “That’s right!” Carlos nearly shouted.

  “But that’s not true, son,” the king said. “Princes have many opportunities to entertain people.”

  “They do?” Carlos searched his memory. He couldn’t remember the last time he ever saw a prince be entertaining.

  The king nodded. “Princes do entertain people. I just need to teach you how.”

  Carlos loved his dad. He loved his dad a lot. But Carlos thought King Carmine was the least entertaining person in the history of the world.

  Dad is going to teach me to be entertaining? he thought. Come on!

  The king continued, “You are a very entertaining person, Carlos. But you need to learn how to entertain people in a princely way.”

  Carlos didn’t like where this conversation was going. “A princely way?”

  “Yes. A princely way.” The king rose to his feet. His idea seemed to invigorate him. “How would you like to entertain an audience of ten thousand people?”

  Carlos’s mouth dropped open. Ten thousand people?! That was ten times more than the audience at the Village Arena!

  Carlos sprang up off the floor. “I’d love to do that! That would be amazing!”

  “It’s possible, son,” the king said. “It’s more than possible; it’s probable.”

  “Probable! That means it’s pretty much going to happen, right?” Carlos asked. “I’m going to entertain ten thousand people?”

  “Yes,” the king confirmed. “If you entertain them in a princely way.”

  There was that phrase again: a princely way.

  Carlos slowly raised an eyebrow. “How do I entertain ten thousand people in a princely way?”

  “By jousting!” the king announced.

  “By jousting?” Carlos asked.

  “Yes! Jousting is a noble sport where proud, princely warriors show off their skills and test their bravery.” The king’s normally tired eyes sparkled. “Two brave souls face each other on the field of competition. Each is on horseback. Each carries a lance.”

  “What’s a lance?” Carlos asked.

  “A big pointy stick,” the king explained. “As the crowd roars with excitement, the jousters charge toward each other! Each one takes careful aim!”

  “Aim?” Carlos asked. “What are they aiming?”

  “They’re aiming the lances!”

  “The lances?” Carlos asked.

  “The big pointy sticks,” the king e
xplained.

  “What are they aiming the big pointy sticks at?” Carlos asked.

  “Each other!” the king replied.

  “Each other?!”

  “Yes!” The king was practically skipping with delight. “Each jouster uses a big pointy stick to try to knock the other guy off his horse!”

  “WHY?!” Carlos yelled.

  “FOR FUN!” the king yelled back joyously. “And they do it before a very large audience of loyal subjects!”

  The king let these words hang in the air for a long moment. Then he let out a long, happy sigh.

  “So,” the king said finally, “what do you think?”

  “I think we should build a dungeon,” Carlos replied.

  CHAPTER 3

  Prince Carlos Charles Charming stomped down the twisty corridors of Fancy Castle, grumbling every step of the way.

  Jousting is entertaining? Really? he thought. Getting stabby on horseback is entertaining? To who? Not me!

  Carlos’s stomps got a little stompier.

  I’ll have to wear armor! he thought.

  Carlos’s mind flashed back to the last time he was forced to wear armor.

  Ugh. Armor is so heavy. And hot. And noisy. And uncomfortable.

  Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!

  Another thought came to Carlos. I’ll have to ride a horse!

  This was more bad news. Carlos and the royal horse, Cornelius, were not on speaking terms. Horses don’t speak, of course, but if Cornelius could speak, Carlos would be the last person he would speak to.

  If Cornelius had his way, he would beat the poop out of Carlos.

  So I have to get stabby, which I hate. While wearing armor, which I hate. While riding a horse who hates me.

  Carlos stomped down the corridor so stompishly that the soles of his feet began to ache.

  Between each stomp, Carlos heard another quieter noise.

  A familiar noise.

  A clickita-clickita noise.

  Carlos stomped and listened at the same time.

  STOMP! Clickita. STOMP! Clickita. STOMP! Clickita.

  Carlos raised his foot. But instead of stomping, he kept it suspended in midair.