We bring you the witcher's tale, written and produced by Alonzo Dean Cole. The The The And now let us join old Nancy, and Satan, her wise black cat.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha Cut. Honour and 17-year-old I be today.

Yes, sir, Hannah and 17-year-old.

We'll say, then.

If these folks are just doused out their lights, we'll spin another of our little bedtime stories to roam their night's rest.

That's right. Nice and dark and careful now.

Draw up to the fire and gaze into the embers.

Gaze into them deep,

and soon you'll see a island in the center of a lake in Michigan.

Not so long ago, the Red Indians owned that land out there

and worship the spirits of its waters and its skies.

And there are what we're going to hear about tonight.

The spirits of the lake.

The spirits of the lake.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Those filthy Indians intend to keep that racket going all night?

Surely they're chanting doesn't annoy you, dear.

I was just thinking how weirdly beautiful it sounded coming across the water.

Beautiful.

Oh, I'm sorry you don't like it. You'll hear it every evening as long as the new moon cast its reflection on the lake. That's a pleasant prospect. You're terribly bored here, aren't you? Oh, naturally, I'm bored. I'm not accustomed to living in a wilderness where I see no one but stupid savages all day. Now you say I'll have to listen to them all night.

But the reason I purchased this island so close to the Indian reservation

was because I thought you'd find their customs interesting and pictures.

Roger, why don't you take a trip-e?

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