Lakefront

As he continued through the forest, Shakespeare came upon a quiet lake. As he put his dripping cock away, he stared out onto the pristine condition it was in. So calm, so perfect. Nothing like the toxic wastelands that surround Avon.

A ripple extended from the center of the lake, shattering the perfect surface.

"Arthur," a haunting voice whispered.

"Uh, no, I'm William."

"Ah," the voice replied. "Not a King, but a Bard. Why have you come to the abode of the Lady of the Lake?"

"Well... I'm sort of lost, you see. Didn't quite mean to, uh, come here, and disturb your whole deal here. So, sorry."

"Not at all." An arm extended from beneath the surface of the water, clutching a soaked papyrus scroll. "My gifts are not just for kings."

She tossed the scroll towards Shakespeare, which landed at his feet. He bent and picked it up.

"Oh my."

The scroll was covered, front and back, in his own writing, with a play he had never written. This was his holy play he had been hoping for! He read it intently, memorizing every line.

"This is incredible, Lady. How can I repay you?"

The lady was gone.