This Native American fellow just might have some worthwhile wisdom to instill upon you, provided that he doesn't start crying about litter on the highway. You say, "Bah" to your buddies, and have a seat (Indian style, of course) near Squatting Fox.

"Ah, it is good that you stayed to listen. Me have many stories to tell, not all of them concerning buffalo." He chuckles to himself at his bizarre and wholly inappropriate stereotype. "Seriously, though, me heard many bad things about camp, and me think that it do you good to listen to I. I mean "me." I mean, "me mean 'me.'" Forget it. You get picture, right? Right.

"Legend say that camp home to many evil spirits. Same could be said of many children's camps, but these different. These spirits of pure evil, and not just phantoms of child molestation. Spirits haunt the camp, sending chills up spines, and chopping up children of white man. It is bad juju. I mean bad wampum. Sorry, me sometimes confuse me offensive characterizations." He laughs again, and you are really starting to feel uncomfortable around this guy. He starts droning on and on in that irritating dialect of his, briefly mentioning the camp's history and the surrounding area before going off on a long and uninteresting tangent. You cut him off right after he says something about the Dawes Severalty Act of 1887, and tell him, "Well, I should really get going. Gotta find those girls and get 'em drunk on firewater, if you catch my drift." You wink-wink, and nudge-nudge, but Squatting Fox appears beside himself with rage.

"What? Don't you know rules? Only Indian can make Indian stereotype. That's why me laugh at own insensitivity. You must pay. Me summon Great Raven to destroy you, Looks-Like-Chimp!" He starts chanting and dancing, and in moments, you are beholden to The Raven.

The great spirit is in no mood to talk, and despite your whimpering, you soon find that you've taken a one-way trip to Where'd-My-Head-Go-ville.

HOPE YOU DON'T HAVE "RESERVATIONS" ABOUT STARTING OVER!