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| The Rezfather by � wetzelbill The night had turned gloomy. Three men were sitting at a table in a tipi, silently chewing on pieces of bannock bread. Two were dressed in jeans, cowboy hats and boots. These men sat to the right and left of a short, muscular, devastatingly handsome man in a pimped out black suit made by Rudolph Valentino. He was obviously the most important man at this table. He was Bill Wetzel, also known as The RezFather. The man to his left was Brandon Shey Night Eagle, a foot soldier in the Native American Storytellers crime family. The other man was a ruthless gunslinger and hitman simply known as The Dogsoldier. His eyes darted about at every little sound, his right hand twitched and absentmindedly tapped the butt of the gun in his holster. His main job tonight was to protect The RezFather at all costs. All three men jumped at a knock on the tipi door. �Brandon, � The Rezfather said to the foot soldier. Brandon kneeled down on the ground and took his bosses� hand. �Yes, Rezfather?� he asked. The RezFather lifted his massive left arm to point, his bicep straining the seams in the expensive suit. He made a nodding gesture towards the door as well; his neck corded with muscle, bulging like a brahma bull. Brandon got up to answer the door. The Dogsoldier tensed, ready for anything to happen. Brandon was gone just a few seconds before he came back. �What is it?� asked The RezFather. � I don�t know. Someone left a package, all wrapped up in tinfoil. It�s kinda hut.� Brandon began to unwrap it and then when he saw the contents his faced turned ashen. �What is it, cousin?� asked The Rezfather once again. Brandon spoke again. This time in a wavering voice. �It�s four pieces of fry bread and some smoked salmon.� Dogsoldier finally spoke for the first time in the night. �What does it mean Rezfather?� �It�s a sign,� The Rezfather said. �From Kanee and Moon Grace.� The RezFather paused to reach for the fry bread, ripping off a chunk, popping it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed and washed the bread down with a pull off of a bottle of Thunderbird before finishing his answer. �It means Tommy Lovett sleeps with the fishes.� All was quiet. You could hear silence become deafening in the tipi, before Brandon broke it, speaking while holding back the tears. �But RezFather. Tommy, �.he..he created me, made my name up and everything.� Brandon struggled for the words while the other two just watched. Dogsoldier looked bored, like he wanted to be somewhere else, quite possibly on his ranch, just anywhere but in this story. Brandon continued, �Rezfather, I�m only in this story because you blatantly ripped my name off and put me in here, now Tommy is gone. He�s dead!� �First of all, I had writer�s block and Tommy is not dead.� The RezFather stated. �But Rezfather, you said the message from Kanee and Moon Grace said he slept with the fishes?� �He does sleep with the fishes. He went to see Andy�s art showing at the Powwow with Biid and they got him drunk.� The Rezfather said. �Kanee and Moon Grace went to bail Biid out for disturbing the peace and Tommy passed out in between the Indian Taco and the Smoked Salmon stands, in a big pile of fish bones, plates and napkins� Dogsoldier went running for the door yelling �We gotta go get him, the rodeo is coming on in and hour and I don�t want to miss��.. .� The Dogsoldier took a horrible spill and rolled outside the tipi door. He stood up, looked over at a dislocated shoulder joint hanging at an unnatural position down his shooting arm. The RezFather and Brandon went to help him, but he just waved them off, and popped it back in. He then reached down, grabbing a handful of dirt and rubbed it on his shoulder. After walking around for a few seconds and loosening it up, he nodded to the others that he was fine. Then all three were on their way to go pick up Tommy before going to the jailhouse to pick up the rest of the Storyteller family. THE END (OR IS IT ONLY THE BEGINNING?) |
