Once upon a time, a down-to-earth prince with a rather wild reputation visited a town called Gila Bend in a state called Arizona in a country called the United States of America. There, the prince, whose name was Harry and who happened also to be a helicopter pilot, was in training at the Air Force Auxiliary Field.
One evening, Prince Harry dined at a restaurant called Little Italy with 30 of his fellow pilots. The people of Gila Bend were very polite and respectful of the prince’s privacy, not deigning to approach him at his table nor to goggle at him from across the restaurant. Nevertheless, the report still circulated: Prince Harry had ordered — and eaten! — a meat-lover’s pizza. The pizza was rich with toppings — bacon, ham, sausage and pepperoni — and Prince Harry ate it!
Some people, who wanted animals to be treated ethically, were appalled. To them, this was an unforgivable offense. What message was he sending — that he was a person for the eating of tasty animals? What — did the prince approve of wearing fur, too? Surely, they thought, Prince Harry knew better than a cartoon plumber named Mario, who lately had been glimpsed on video game screens wearing the fur of a rare raccoon. (The people for the ethical treatment of animals had objected to Mario, too.)
Rapidly, these oh-so-appalled people dispatched two scantily clad wenches to woo Prince Harry to their non-meat-eating ways. The women clad themselves in red pepper bikinis and pleaded with Prince Harry to let them “spice up” his life by teaching him to be vegan.
Some in Gila Bend were not so pleased with these women. “Poor guy,” one said of the prince. “Can’t even order a pizza.”
But, to others, who were very familiar with the absurdist animal advocates, the entire affair was a very great joke. They hoped Prince Harry and his pizza would live happily ever after.