Battle Cry

Hello, Kiddies, it is EYE...with a HUMAN-EYE in my hands aha-ha-ha-ha-ha.  Our tale takes place during an INDIAN SUMMER and is about an old man who finds out that he GETS GORE THAN HE BARGAINED FOR! 
An old man drove up to a small house in eastern-Colorado, back in 1966 one day.  He got out of his car, walked with his walking-stick to the door, and rang the doorbell of the home.  A middle-aged man answered the door and shook his hand.  "Hello Mr. Smith, come right on in sir" the middle-aged man said to the old man.  "Morning, Mr. Davies.  Thank you sir" Mr. Smith replied.  "You're welcome, let me give you the grand tour" Mr. Davies said and Mr. Smith followed him inside.  Mr. Smith signed a form on the kitchen table and Mr. Davies took it.  "Thank you sir for signing The Owner's Agreement.  Enjoy your brand new home.  As a real estate agent, I decided to build this small home on this property" Mr. Davies told him.  "Why, thank you, Mr. Davies sir, this is a pleasant house you have constructed.  You are quite skilled" Mr. Smith responded, shaking his hand.  
That afternoon, Mr. Smith was drinking a cup of tea in his brand new kitchen.  As he sat at his new kitchen-table, a wailing, high-pitched Native American Indian cry came from down in the cellar.  Mr. Smith jumped and screamed, seeing the basement-door fling-open.  There was a skeleton of a Native American Indian Chief in the doorway, dressed in white and blue-skins and a head-dress of white and red-feathers.  The zombie of the Native American Indian Chief held a staff with a ball on the top of it, with a white symbol painted on it.  The corpse stood there in its blue-skinned-moccasins and Mr. Smith's eyes bugged-out, as he shook in terror.  "Howgh, I Chief Blue Sun!  White Man build home on resting place.  White Man find bones of mine digging cellar.  White Man lay bones in chest in cellar" the zombie of the Native American Indian stated in a raspy-voice to Old Mr. Smith.  "Y-Y-Y-You were removed from your grave, Chief Blue Sun by Mr. Davies!" Mr. Smith responded, trembling.  "White Man knew I buried underneath home" the skeleton croaked in his raspy-voice.  "I seek help please!" the zombie of Chief Blue Sun asked Mr. Smith.  "Y-Yes Chief Blue Sun I will help you" he answered the skeleton.  Old Mr. Smith went and dialed his new telephone in the hall.  "Hello, Mr. Davies, this is Mr. Smith.  Could you please check on my new basement please.  There seems to be something wrong down there sir.  Yes.  Well, thank you.  Bye Bye" he said on the phone and then hung up.  
A half an hour later, Mr. Davies was in the front hallway with Mr. Smith.  "Follow me please sir" Mr. Smith told Mr. Davies and they both went to the cellar-doorway in the kitchen.  As Mr. Davies peered down, into the blackness of the basement, an arrow flew into his back, causing him to scream and fall down the steps.  As Mr. Davies rubbed his head, groaning in pain at the bottom of the stairs, he looked up and saw the zombie of Chief Blue Sun coming down the steps towards him.  "I-I-I-I KNOW YOU ARE DEAD!  I BUILT THIS HOUSE ON YOUR RESTING PLACE!  NOBODY CARES THAT THIS PROPERTY AND LAND WAS YOUR GRAVE!!!!!" Mr. Davies screamed, horrified.  The skeleton of Chief Blue Sun made it to him and grinned-eerily at him, as he replied in his raspy-dead-voice, "people care about resting place, White Man."  The rotting-zombie of Chief Blue Sun wailed a high-pitched cry and his skeletal-hand drove an old tomahawk down to the man's forehead, as Mr. Davies screamed in horror.  
Heh-Heh, well, that was quite a GRAVE MISTAKE that Mr. Davies did, even though he did it on purpose.  It was certainly nice of Mr. Smith to help Chief Blue Sun.  He even learned that as resident downstairs, Chief Blue Sun had to SLAY A MORGUE-GAGE aha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.