Cowboys and Indians

Chapter 1: The Great Outdoors
Josh sprawled out, his head cushioned by a rock, feeling every bit the rugged cowboy. He glanced over at Barry, who, predictably, had his nose buried in a book.
“Man, I feel like John Wayne,” Josh drawled, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “All I need now are the Indians.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a violent gust of wind tore through the campsite, scattering leaves, twigs, and dirt. It was instantly followed by a blinding white flash and a mighty boom. Standing near the crackling campfire, Josh saw him: an Indian chief, tomahawk raised.
Josh’s eyes went wide. He looked over at Barry—whose face was illuminated by the dancing firelight as he devoured his book—then back at the chief, then down at his own cigarette. Hoping to ward off the intruder, Josh grabbed a stick and poked the campfire, the flickering flames reflected in his suddenly less-than-mischievous eyes. He blinked hard, praying the Indian was just his imagination playing tricks in the dark.
But there he was: the Native American chief, his silhouette a sharp contrast against the night sky. Josh looked at the chief, then over at Barry, then back at the chief.
With a perfectly straight face, the man stated, “I am Lame Duck, and you are on sacred ground.”
Josh ignored him and returned to poking the fire. Suddenly, Lame Duck whacked Josh on the head with his peace pipe.
“Oi, dimwit! Didn’t you hear me? You’re on sacred ground!”
Josh rubbed the fresh lump on his head. “Cut it out, Lamb Chop! That hurt!”
Lame Duck jabbed Josh in the ribs with the pointed end of his pipe. “The name is Lame Duck.”
“I’ll give you bloody Lame Duck, coming in here scaring me!” Josh rolled up his sleeves. With that, he weaved to his left, weaved to his right, did a boxing shuffle, and was just about to throw a punch.
Lame Duck looked puzzled. Is that some kind of a weaving feet shuffling dance? The punch went right through him.
Barry finally looked up from his book. He glanced around the campsite, confused. "Who are you talking to, Josh?"
Lame Duck, thoroughly annoyed that Josh tried to punch him, swiftly kicked Josh hard in the shins.
"Ow! What'd you do that for, you… you lame duck?" Josh whined, glaring at the invisible chief.
Barry put his book down. "Lame duck? What are you talking about? There's no one there."
Josh rubbed his head. "Yeah, there is! He says we're on sacred ground and he's not happy about our campfire."
Barry squinted at the flickering flames. "But... but it's just a campfire. It's a nice campfire. We're toasting marshmallows. Who could possibly have a problem with that?"
Suddenly, Lame Duck poked Josh firmly in the temple.
"Hey!" Josh yelled. "He's pointing at the fire! He's calling us 'unwanted guests' and said we're desecrating the land!"
Barry's eyes went wide. He frantically flipped through his book, mumbling to himself. "Sacred ground... Indians... fire... what chapter is that?" He finally found the page. "Chapter eight! 'Indians and Their Sacred Grounds!'" he shrieked, holding the book out for Josh to see. "It says that sacred sites hold historical and cultural knowledge, and that when they're damaged, that knowledge is lost forever!"
Josh looked at the fire, then at Lame Duck beside him. "But... but we're not damaging anything! We're just... camping!"
Lame Duck poked Josh's head again, harder this time, right above the ear. He boomed, "And what is that then, you insolent fool?"
Barry whispered, his face turning pale. "We're in big trouble. We've angered a powerful spirit. We should probably pack up and leave. Right now."
Lame Duck boomed again. "You will not leave! You will not leave until you have been punished! I curse your marshmallows to forever be burnt!"
Josh swallowed hard. "Oi, Lame Duck, don't you touch my marshmallows!"
"How come you can see and hear Lame Duck, but I can't?" Barry asked.
"Yeah, why is that then, Lame Duck?" Josh chimed in.
"That's simple," Lame Duck said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "He reads." Lame Duck then stomped on Josh's foot—not a hard kick, just enough to be painful. "And you don't! He knows things."
He whacked Josh upside the head with his open hand. "And you don't! He's a quiet person, and I really do wish you were too! He's clever." Lame Duck poked Josh forcefully in the ribs. "And I only appear to dimwits like you!"
Josh rolled up his sleeves again, a furious look on his face. "Right, that's it! I’ll give you bloody dimwit!" he screamed, swinging a wild right hook that connected with nothing but air. He followed up with an uppercut, but his aim was so bad he ended up punching himself squarely under the chin.
Lame Duck looked at Barry, shrugging his shoulders. "Like I said," he quipped. "He's a dimwit!"