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crow shit good luck ceremony

"My name is Shit Face," the Chief proclaimed sadly.

He looked at the ghost Indian guards.

"You knew all this time and you said nothing."

.

"You are our Chief. We speak when spoken to."

The ghost Indian guard looked at the other three.

"Besides, it was always good for a laugh."

.

The Chief waved his hand.

"Be gone. Back to the burial ground."

.

"Aw shit," the ghost Indian guards moaned, as they disappeared.

.

The Chief looked over at us.

"Good help is so hard to find."

He turned back to the Baron.

"I am a disgrace. I am the laughing stock of the entire Indian nations.

If I were not dead, I would kill myself."

.

I actually felt bad for the Chief.

I, more than anyone, except maybe Calvin,

and Harold,

knew what it was like to be ridiculed and ignored.

.

"Look," I said, as I stood up.

"All you need is a makeover."

.

"Is not my ceremonial makeup enough?"

.

"No. I mean we have to reinvent you. Starting with a new name."

.

Betty jumped up excited.

"Yes. We give you a new name and then you and everyone else, get the hell out of our bedroom, so Krall and I can get some sleep."

She yawned and stretched, pretending to be tired.

.

Russell laughed.

"And the Oscar for the worst excuse for a horney virgin to try and get rid of unwanted guests, goes to ..."

.

Betty turned to me.

She was so beautiful.

"Am I that obvious?"

.

I nodded.

"Look lets brainstorm here and come up with a new name for the Chief. A name that will strike fear in the hearts of all and gain him back the dignity and respect that he so rightfully deserves."

.

"Chief Cook and Bottle Washer," Russell squawked.

.

I stared at him.

.

"Chief Executive Officer."

.

"I like that," the Chief added.

.

I shook my head.