The restaurantender asks him, “The punchline only makes sense if you pronounce all the K’s.”

The revered Knight of Knorway responds, “…what?”

“I said, what would you like to order, sir?”

“That’s Sir to you!” the revered Knight of Knorway yells, slamming his fist into the table.

“My humblest apologies, Sir,” the restaurantender apologetically apologizes. “What would—”

“Bring me your finest beer, your largest steak, and the fairest of your daughters!”

“Coming right up, Sir.”

The feared Knight of the Knetherlands bursts through the doors and yells, “Servants! I want a plate of freshly-cut artichoke on table seven, lest I burn this place down!”

A nearby waitress shows him the way to table seven, then hurries to the kitchen. “Freshly-cut artichoke on table seven!”

“What?” the cook asks.

“Just do it! Quickly!”

“Er, okay.” The cook leaves the restaurant, grabs an artichoke fresh from the soil, and butchers it. They don’t pay me enough, he thinks as he wipes the artichoke blood from his forehead.

The cumbersome Knight of Knew Zealand marches through the doorway and into the kitchen. The cooks glare at him menacingly. He unsheathes a pistol and shoots a bullet into the plate of freshly-cut artichoke. No one stands up to this very obtuse assassination attempt, for who could withstand the wrath of the cumbersome Knight of Knew Zealand?

The formidable Knight of Knicaragua storms into the scene and stops the waiter who’s serving the plate of bullet-ridden, freshly-cut artichoke. “STOP!” says he.

“Uh… okay?”

“This artichoke is POISONED!” the formidable Knight of Knicaragua screeches. “How dare you serve food like this? And to none other than the feared Knight of the Knetherlands? You call yourself a RESTAURANT?”

“My name is Sam,” the waiter snivels. “Please, I don’t run this place!”

The formidable Knight of Knicaragua shatters the plate into a thousand pieces.

“I just want to see my family!” The waiter breaks down on the floor and weeps.

The unruly Knight of Knepal smashes through the wall of the building, filling the vicinity with dust. “Formidable Knight of Knicaragua!” he screams. “I challenge you to a DUEL!”

The formidable Knight of Knicaragua tugs at the collar of his armor. “Er, maybe later?”

The unruly Knight of Knepal pulls out a revolver and shoots the formidable Knight of Knicaragua three times in the chest. The bullets ricochet from his armor, and the formidable Knight of Knicaragua grins.

“FOOL! My armor is made of Knickel! I am invinci—AHHH!”

The formidable Knight of Knicaragua’s knee starts bleeding out. The unruly Knight of Knepal smiles. “Looks like I found your… Achilles knee!”

The delinquent Knight of Knorth Korea sneaks through the backdoor and assassinates the revered Knight of Knorway. He then drinks the restaurant’s finest beer, eats its largest steak, and marries the restaurantender’s fairest daughter, however his heart soon fails and the daughter is, once again, widowed.

The lamentable Knight of Knigeria knocks on the kdoor kpatiently. The restaurantender opens the door and greets him with a smile. “Oh, I see where this is going. There are 10 countries in the world starting with KN. 7 Knights have already come here—3 more are left.”

“Actually,” argues the lamentable Knight of Knigeria, “you forgot St. Kitts and Knevis, as well as Knee.”

“Knee?”

“Yes, Knee, the southwestern African territory, with its beautiful Kneel landscape and genial Kneel people. Knee is recognized by most governments of the world as an independent nation; don’t worry, I know you’re not gonna look it up. Problem is, there are infinitely many Kneel Knights of Knee, each with a different adjective and everything, and they’re gonna burst through that door any second now and take all of your beer. I suggest you start pouring some glasses right now.”

“Oh, gosh!” the restaurantender says. “I’ll get right on it! Thanks for warning me, Sir!”

“Please. It’s sir.”

The restaurantender pours an infinite amount of beer into an infinitely voluminous glass (it’s actually just a four-dimensional fractal). The lamentable Knight of Knigeria snatches the glass and gulps the infinite amount of beer right down his throat. The restaurantender gapes at him with disbelief, and the lamentable Knight of Knigeria returns a smirk.

“I lied about the Kneels.”

His body explodes into an infinite ocean, and the whole universe becomes nothing but beer.

Gosh, what an awful tale! I shouldn’t be reading things like this to you… Timmy? Aww, look at him. He’s fallen asleep. Maybe I should keep this thing.