And so it came to pass that Barba son of Ryan and his apostles landed on the rocky shore of the land that had once been his home. "You will love it here," Barba assured his followers, "or I'll be a mandrill's lover." Neither wanton Wilt nor ruffled Riban, craving Kobi or dizzy Dipsi were privy to all the intimate details of their leader's lewd and indiscriminating love life, and so they did not take his guarantee with as much levity as perhaps they should have.
Banded together they traipsed through the wilderness toward the towering stone entrance of Barba's birth city. Animals picked up on a foreign yet familiar funk, and flocked in awe to watch the hairy, malodorous group rumble across the jungle floor. All but the sabertooth tiger kept their distance, well aware of the legendary appetite the exiled son possessed. Word had it that at his most hungry, not even a XXL Hungry-Man Meatloaf dinner could satiate him. Nor could working his jaws on hippopotamus blubber.
"Ah, Kemba!" Barba son of Ryan shouted, recognizing an old friend skulking in the brush, and running towards the mangy lion wrapped his heavy arm around its royal mane. He introduced the apostles to Kemba one by one, an introduction Kemba acknolwedged by yawning lazily and pawing the zebra carcass that lay beside him.
Barba son of Ryan and his entourage finally arrived at the city gate, the wild cats of the jungle slinking suavely in their wake. The exiled son raised his hand and shouted "Gunga, Gunga Galunga!" with all the air in his lungs and rapped his knuckles three times against the heavy door. "Let me enter!" he bellowed. Never before had they seen such pomp or security, and the apostles stared eagerly at each other; Kobi's mouth watered for a Hebrew National.
Slowly the tall door creaked open, and as Barba strolled in, his crew in toe, he was met with many a dropped jaw and widened eye. Imagine the surprise jolting these simple citizens, to have banished such a man, such a creature, only to have it return seven years later, and with four more creatures just like it! Men covered the eyes of their partners, fearing (rightfully) that such a sight would change them forever. Women that managed to sneak a peek shrieked deliriously, and young children - unaware of the identities of the visitors or the significance of their coming - belched and expelled flatulence, having nothing better to do.
Just then the old Vice Roy appeared. "What are you doing here, Barba son of Ryan? You've been exiled." Everybody paused in their tracks.
"It's time that I returned," Barba replied, winking slyly. "I told you I would."
"And I told you to stop joking around!" the Vice Roy spat. "And you promised that you'd never come back." The apostles began to move restlessly.
"I had my fingers crossed behind my back when I said that!" Barba whooped defiantly. "So Nyuh." The Vice Roy grimaced at the ground, disgusted. "So do you guys have any ketchup? Me and my buddies are famished and I was thinking I'd go out and bring us a nice, woolly, mammo-"
But Barba son of Ryan was interrupted by the Vice Roy, who clapped his hands together in the midst of his speech. Immediately a line of guards formed. They wore the furs of mammoth and bear, and aimed their spears at Barba and his apostles.
Then Barba sounded his mighty whistle (you know, the one where you put two fingers in your mouth - that one. Barba had been practicing for a long time), and the apostles assembled behind him in their attack position, forming the dreaded Barba Chop-Quartet. For a long moment they stood ready, waiting tense for the signal from their leader to unleash themselves. But the signal never came. Barba's fist, wound into a ball at his side, raised slowly towards the sky and the wind kindled behind his growl.
"So be it," Barba son of Ryan began. "We want no part of your foolishness. Remain within your walls. We will do as we want." And he grabbed Wilt son of Chamberlain by the arm - as he had begun sweet-talking a sweet maiden - and led his boys outside, into the free world.
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