* * * * *
CHET NORTHFIELD'S POINT OF VIEW
As it turns out, we flew the ultra-lights to Needles Airport rather than the more privately owned Giant Rock Airport. And, sure enough, the pilot of the Rockwell Sabreliner passenger jet that awaited us knew exactly what we were talking about (even if I didn't) when we said wanted to go to "East Oshkosh." In fact, he barely even raised half an eyebrow when Sam and Cornell hustled the hooded and handcuffed Saito aboard!
Ten minutes later, we were flying due northeastward to the Badger State of Wisconsin. And every second of that three hour-long flight was nerve-wracking, as we took turns keeping watch, outside the windows, for any beehive-shaped UFO's that might be following us. But, we seemingly lucked out. As we landed at Wittman Field--in Oshkosh, Winnebago County, Wisconsin--with almost no complications.
The "almost" being our risky application of a sleeper hold on the suddenly reawake Saito. So that we could all deplane without having to let everyone see him wearing that suspicious black hood!
The ground transportation that our pilot (who shall remain nameless) called ahead for turned out to be a Kia Sorrento with tinted windows. And, after we all piled into it, we started driving southeastward. We didn't know where until another hour later, when I saw a green sign with white lettering.
"You Are Now Entering
FONDUE LAC*
The Melted Cheese
Capital of Wisconsin"
But, we didn't stop for any cheese snacks. Instead, the Kia Sorrento kept on driving until we rounded the southeastern tip of Lake Winnebago. Then, the driver headed northward. Ultimately arriving in Calumet County, Wisconsin, just east of the lake. And, fifteen minutes after that, we reached our final stop.
The Brothertown Indian Reservation.
The reservation cop who met us at the main gate was told, by our driver, that he had a party of four to see George True Axe. So, the cop whipped out a cellphone and speed-dialed his immediate superior. While he did that, I fingered through my mental filing cabinet to see what I could remember about this reservation's history.
It had originally been land shared by the Winnebago and Menominee tribes. But, in the early eighteen hundreds, they had been joined by members of the Quaker-Christianized Oneida Iroquois driven out of New York State. Two hundred years after that, they held out a similarly helpful hand to Hmong refugees from Southeast Asia!
Right now, though, I could only hope that the trend didn't end with us.
My fears proved groundless. The cop waved the Sorrento through, after he first directed the driver to the tribal council's meeting house. The driver followed those instructions to the letter. And, there, I was finally introduced to George True Axe. A full-blooded Menominee Indian who was not only the tribal council president.
But, also, the former point man for Barker's Dozen!
It was my cousin Sam who explained that latter bit to me. The two of them having recognized each other right off. And, of course, initially fibbing to each other how neither of them had changed in the slightest. The routine politeness ended, however, when George noticed the unconscious Saito.
"What's up with Sleeping Beauty?"
"Is there a place where we can explain that to you in private?"
He nodded, and led us into his private office. Gesturing to four out of six chairs grouped around a solid oak business desk. There, Sam, Cornell, and I took turns disclosing the fantastic story. Needless to say, he was just as incredulous as I had been, at first!
"I don't blame you for disbelieving us, Mr. True Axe..." I began.
"George," he instinctively corrected me.
I nodded, before continuing: "Yet, if you had just been through what we've been through, you'd have no shred of skepticism left whatsoever."
He massaged his chin on the steepled fingers of both hands before he finally replied.
"Look! I owe Maynard; I admit it. Allowing me to invest tribal funds in his company has helped us build a lot of badly needed schools and houses. But, alien-possessed baton twirlers?! That's got to be the biggest whopper any red man has ever heard since the purchase of Manhattan Island!"
Wouldn't you know it? That's when Saito saw fit to wake up, once again.
"You want proof, Mr. True Axe?" he chortled (like something out of a low-budget horror movie): "Then, look out your office window!"
Two seconds later, we heard a multitude of high-pitched screams coming from outside. And, it didn't take us long to locate the source of them. Namely; a sextet of baton-twirlers wearing the sleeveless red-and-black leotards of the University of Cincinnati, Ohio.
And, each one of them, a one hundred foot-tall giantess.
tbc
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
NEEDLES, CALIFORNIA
(AUGUST 1, 2014)
(AUGUST 1, 2014)
Chapter End Notes:
*Fond Du Lac is the correct spelling. Ah! The power of cheesy puns.
Hmong: Laotian hill tribes (formerly collectively referred to as "Montagnards" by the French) who served as anti-communist jungle guides, for SEATO forces, during the Vietnam War.
Hmong: Laotian hill tribes (formerly collectively referred to as "Montagnards" by the French) who served as anti-communist jungle guides, for SEATO forces, during the Vietnam War.