The Junta decreed: the Banano goddess require a distribution. In theory, anything would suffice, even a twig or a packet of ketchup - but who knows? I hurried to enjoy the show, and paused to share a wry look with the Banano Republic police guarding the entrance of the clearing. As I sat down, the monKeys are abuzz with excitement!
The ceremony began with a toast. The Sacred Cochon recounted the story of our unexpected victory in the Meme Wars - in our primordial past, we proved without a doubt a few could overcome the many. I downed my shot of Banano coffee liquer, and felt it burn down my throat.
Our attention turned to the pathway leading from the outer trees. I saw the teenage Fanta serving as page for the proceedings - he was nervous, but quick to do his duty. He led a tired donkey laden with the chosen gifts: an acoustic banjo, the most recent BANJAM album, and a BananoBot plushy toy.
With measured haste, he placed the items on the fiery brazier. Pop went a flashing flare of radiance! The ashes and individual particles from the gifts combined as a single sparkling entity. As we held our breath, the colossal glowing blob cloned threefold and multiplied against themselves in a kaleidoscope of lightning, and suddenly it shot up as if on an elevator to the skies! Everyone cheered and applauded! In our fondest dreams, we imagine us monKeys would evolve and transcend to the higher plane of existence as well. Wen the shimmer faded, we fell silent in awed reverence.