On one particular evening he was heartily into the huge platter of thinly sliced missionary before him. It was easy to see why he weighed in at over 350 pounds. While his people were happy to see the king enjoying himself - he had a ferocious temper when things did not meet with his approval - they were fervently hoping that there would be a few scraps left over for them. The king was decidedly rotund, but his subjects were thin from near starvation. So with each slice of meat that he devoured, their hearts sank a little further. It was beginning to look as if there would be nothing left.
The natives began to mutter among themselves. "It doesn't look good," said the cannibal who had felled the missionary with a poison dart. "He is going to eat the lot! It's always the same when we bring him back one of these religious types."
"He certainly has a liking for these men of God," agreed a fellow subject. "There's obviously something about their delicate skin."
"Well, it's simply not good enough," said the first native, becoming increasingly irate. "It's about time we followed the example of the Watumbabibi down river and refused to hunt until the king shows us more consideration. He must allow us a fair helping of his missionary meals."
"You mean," queried his fellow cannibal, "That we should ask him to implement some kind of Prophet-sharing scheme?"