I once had a dream about catching up on Anacrusis.
In the first story, some curiously dorky heroes went on safari. In the second, they all got captured by the black-skinned “King of the Amazon.”
The third was from the viewpoint of someone’s stripped and bare bones, watching the king lounge in his giant throne and gnaw thoughtfully on a comrade’s femur.
It was awesome, but I also remember going, geez, isn’t this a little racist? Random tribal cannibalism? You really went there?
Then I woke up and realized it was me all along, and thought these words: WHOA, TWIST ENDING.