The Ron of the Ancient Prophecies
"Do you know a Ron from somewhere?" asked the man, "We've been looking for the missing Ron of the
ancient prophecies."
"We know a Ron from somewhere," stuttered Bill as he watched the strange tentacled beast come back
towards them holding large cups of lemonade. Bill took a cup and drank, "Are these yours?"
"Of course," said the man, "this boy here is named Barnaby. Barnaby has been searching the galaxy for the
missing Ron of the ancient prophecies for the last two years. He returned with you, so we assume one of you is
Ron."
"Err," said Bill, looking at Ed.
"Well," said the man, "while you think about it, have some steaks. We always treat our special guests to
the best."
"Ah," said Bill, looking at the sky, and then at his own elbows. Steaks, he thought.
"We also have bar-be-qued ribs."
Ribs. Bar-be-qued.
"Our land is known for food beyond your wildest dreams."
Wild. Est. Dreams. Drool. Slurp.
"If you want anything at all just ask," said the man.
Bill wanted something. "Do you have spam?" asked Bill.
"Yes," said the man, "In abundance."
Abundance, thought Bill, "My name is Ron," he added in his mind, "I'm your king, and you can feed me
forever."
"Well," said Ed, "Sorry to tell you, but.."
"I'm Ron," said Bill, "Yes, I am Ron."
"The Ron of the ancient prophecies is among us!" cried aloud the man. They all fell to the ground in
solemn worship. Bill grinned a goofy fat grin. Ed looked at him, and adjusted his hat and nodded towards the new
royalty.
The bar-be-que sauce was amazing. The spam was delicious. Every single chunk of meat was succulent.
The velvet chair with ivory armrests was nice. Bill was living the good life. Ed wasn't complaining either, being the
advisor to the "Ron of the ancient prophecies" had privileges that involved a lot of good food.
"So," said Bill, "Now that we're living the good life, what do you think of the universe?"
"I like it," said Ed.
"The way they are all named Ron is sort of complicated," said Bill.
"I'm glad I'm Ed," said Ed, between mouthfuls of a greenish tasty pasty substance.
"Fortunately," continued Bill, "When they talk to me, a fanfare always goes off, so I know who is getting
talked to…me!" Bill smiled. In a way, he felt that his entire life was just one large preparation for these days.
Learning how to eat a lot, and be demanding. The obvious importance of these qualities was tremendous in a land
like this.
Trumpets began to blare again. A long elaborate fanfare, that made things clear that "the Ron of the ancient
prophecies" was going to be addressed carried on for about five minutes. Bill took little notice and kept gorging
himself on a large rack of ribs. At the end of the fanfare he looked up, and shook a bone at some Ron who was
approaching him.
"Oh great and glorious, Ron. The most magnificent Ron of the ancient prophecies. We do address you
with the highest regard."
"Yeh?" grunted Bill as he picked some meat chunks out of his teeth.
"We come before your grand form to ask you to bestow us your wisdom."
"Thanks," said Bill scratching his face a bit, "What do you want to know?"
"We come to you to find the truth in a matter," some Ron gave a dramatic pause, and then continued, "We
wish to know if you prefer the tangy sauce, the hot and spicy sauce or the thick and rich sauce."
"Give me a moment to ponder this grave issue," said Bill. He pondered. He pondered it with some chicken
wings he dipped into the various sauces to aid his decision making process. One by one he held them in the air up to
the then ate one slowly, then another quickly. Tasting each one carefully. Then through a mouthful of meat, he
responded, "The thick and rich. Definitely." A fanfare played, announcing that "the ancient Ron of the prophecies
had spoken."
"Thank you, oh Great Ron, for your insight," said some Ron, and he turned and walked away. A fanfare
played again, and Bill ate some more food.
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