A Formidable and Chivalrous "Expository" Essay

This just goes to show what will undoubtably happen when I am asked to write an expository essay about an emotional experience from my past. Haha.


I am a knight. I have been since age eight. Or nine. My memory is hazy. That's what becoming a knight does to you. Once that sacred sword makes contact with your being, symbolizing your advancement from peasanthood to knighthood, recalling things as trivial as dates becomes obsolete. However, the memory of my very first knighting is so vivid, so vibrant, so emotion-fused , that I could not forget it, not even if aliens beamed down and attempted to pry it from my large and tremendous mind. Would you like me to recall the occasion for you? You would? Spiffing. This is a wondrous tale that you shan't soon forget.

Before I begin my tale, I have some 'splainin' to do. The kingdom I resided in at the time of my knighting was the great and spacious Texas. Within Texas is a small hamlet in which is a very fine school for young peasants. At said establishment, all us younglings were commanded by our Queen, Principal Fezziwig, to live the value of the month, so that at the end of said month, we may be eligible for the honor of being knighted.

Alright, I’m going to switch dialogues here. Now, I know that this all sounds fictional and somewhat ludicrous...but I am far from kidding. Everything I’ve said so far is completely factual. Except the bit about Principal Fezziwig. The name was, indeed, procured from A Christmas Carol. I used the name for one of two reasons. One: I can’t remember the Principal’s name (see paragraph one) and two: because I love the name Fezziwig and desperately wish that it was the nameless Principal’s name. But wishing gets me nowhere. Telling the rest of the story, however, might.

Dialogue switch. The value of the month, the value which led to my knighting, was that of tolerance. I was the one doing the tolerating. I was not the scum that was to be tolerated. My toleration was apparently so impressive that my elders supposed that it was high time that I be promoted from meager peasant to shiny knight. On the day of the knighting, the air was buzzing with such excitement that it was almost tangible. I felt that if I could take a bite out of the air, the taste would be the taste of...victory. I had somehow discovered, with the knightly powers I was about to attain, no doubt, that this was my day. I sat down upon the cold tile before the stage with my peers. I was one of them, yet above them. I glanced around, and saw my parents standing in the back of the chamber, their eyes aglow, beaming smiles, video cameras in hand. Yet further evidence of what was to come. I smiled to myself, and glanced around at the sea of inferiors surrounding me. Ha! Then, quite suddenly, the time had come. The names of those who were to be knighted were read. I heard my named called. Pleased, but not at all surprised, I rose to my feet, and took a step towards my destiny. As I did so, I glanced around, and saw all the little peasants whose names had not been read weep with envy. It was a miraculous thing to behold. I mounted the stage, smiled at the appointed knighter, kneeled, bowed my head, and was born again. My new life had begun. The life...of knighthood.

Dialogue switch. Again, this all sounds like a preposterous falsehood, I know. But honestly. This school was big on chivalry. A knight was our mascot. Every month, a sweaty man with a mullet showed up in fifty pounds of glistening armor, names were read, five year olds were told to kneel before him and stay still while he tapped a terrifyingly real looking sword to both shoulders. Then they were handed a medal and a coupon to McDonalds and sent home. It was a fantastic, albeit creepy system to get children to behave. And it was a incredibly potent emotional experience for all. Hence this essay.