By 2322, all Africa was divided into three Empires, those of the Black Muslims, the Black Mormons, and the Black Masons, all engaged in the most intense cultural rivalry.
Ludwig Bifuwayo, who as Thrice-Exalted Supreme Noble Grand exercised absolute power in the Masonic domain, was especially anxious to outshine the others.
One day, in distress, he called Ferdinand Feghoot. "Mr. Feghoot," he moaned, "it's about my son Jack. Eventually he'll inherit my throne. His education and culture must excel those of all rival rulers. I have imported the greatest of scholars, the rarest of books. I have sought
the most eminent witchdoctors, the most costly psychiatrists. I have given the lad every advantage. I have allowed him to keep a pet anteater. I have even flown in an entire theatrical troupe from Kyoto to amuse him."
His voice broke. "B-but he-he just seems to take less and less interest, to get m-more and more stupid."
To his utter astonishment, Feghoot grinned cheerfully.
"You m-m-mock me," wept the ruler.
"Certainly not, Your Magnificence," declared Ferdinand Feghoot. "It's just that you yourself gave me the answer. Take the anteater away! Send the troupe back to Nippon! . . . Aardvark and Noh Play make Jack a dull