"I am the opulent Chief Chit Face."
..
Betty and I looked at each other.
.
"Told you," I snickered.
.
We both started laughing.
Hysterically.
.
"You dare laugh at the exceptional Chief of the Cowar Dly Indian nation. The humongous Chief Chit Face."
.
We laughed harder, now laying back on the bed, holding our bellies.
.
"Dispatch of them," we heard the Chief's Chit Face voice say.
.
We stopped laughing.
.
The four Indian guards ran at us with spears and tomahawks. They began slashing and stabbing at us.
.
"That tickles," Betty shrieked.
She was ticklish.
That was so cute.
.
They continued slashing and stabbing and hacking and such.
Betty was right.
It did tickle.
.
Now we were laughing again, rolling on the bed.
.
"Stop it," Betty pleaded.
"I am going to pee myself."
.
"Dispatch of the dispatching," the utterly complete Chief Chit Face ordered.
.
The ghost Indian guards moved back to either side of the Chief.
.
Slowly Betty and I gained our composure and breath.
I helped her to a sitting position, with me, on the bed.
.
The Chief was helped down off his horse.
"I can do it myself," he said, slapping at the hands of the ghost Indian guards.
.
He walked toward us, staff in hand and stood about 4 feet away.
He crashed the staff on the floor.
"You dare to laugh at the extensive Chief of the Cowar Dly Indian nation?"
.
Betty nodded.
"Sorry Chief Chit Face."
She started laughing again and fell into my arms.
She felt so good.
.
"Why does the paleface freckled redheaded woman laugh at my name?"
.
Betty stared at me.
"Are my freckles showing?"
.
She had freckles.
I liked freckles.
I smiled.
YOU ARE READING
Home Sweet Home
HumorKrall Jones cannot believe his luck when Warren Whitesnake sells him Curtainbach Manor for just $20,000. The big old house had a few creaks and moans, but Krall loved it. It also had a few ghosts, a talking crow, a talking rat , dead Indian tribe, a...
