"I'm sorry about LeFou, Gaston," said John Smith as he rode on his good friend's back as he swam across the ocean. "After all, he was such a wacky midget."

"I shall miss him," said Gaston. "But I shall get another midget when I get back to France. It's no big deal."

After four hours, they reached shore. Gaston was an incredibly fast swimmer.

"Thanks for the ride, Gaston," said John Smith. He then scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um...would you mind getting some clothing on?"

The naked hunter laughed a mighty laugh.

"Of course, old freind!" exclaimed. "I wouldn't want to make you gay, would I?"

"You've...made men gay?" asked John Smith, blinking his eyes in surprise.

"Many times," his friend said. "No one can resist Gaston!"

After they were both dressed and dry, they climbed into a cab which was driven by Meeko. After paying Meeko and telling him that he should really quit smoking, they arrived in Jamestown.

"So where's this talking tree of your's?" asked Gaston, looking around.

"It's across the river," said John Smith. "We'll need to...um...get help from an old friend of mine in order to get there."

"You mean that savage woman?" asked Gaston. "Remind me again what happened between you two?"

"I dunno," mumbled John Smith. "I was shot, I wanted a ship of my own, it's all kinda fuzzy in my head. But she's never forgiven me."

"Doesn't she send Christmas cards at least?" asked Gaston, pointing his rifle around casually, looking for an animal to shoot.

"Yeah, but they never have any money in them," said John Smith, clearly uncomfortable talking about his old flame.

It was then when they ran into John Rolfe. He was wearing a fancy coat, fancy shoes and holding a fancy umbrella. He either looked very British or very gay, it was hard to tell.

"Well if it isn't the infamous John Smith," said John Rolfe, with a smirk on his face. "And who is this? Your boyfriend?"

Gaston laughed.

"If I pull my pants down, you'll wish I was your boyfriend," the hunter said. John Smith just blushed.

"How's the wife doing, John?" asked John with forced politeness in his voice.

"Oh, she's not my wife yet, John," said John. "Bitch doesn't want to commit yet. Says she needs time to think things through. But I know she'll accept my ring in good time."

"Have you two been sleeping together?" asked Gaston.

John Rolfe gasped. "What a very unpolite and un-British thing to ask!" he exclaimed. "But yes."

John Smith glared at this friend.

"What are you doing?" he asked Gaston through a whisper. "You're embarassing me in front of this guy who I can't stand."

"I'm just making friendly conversation, old chap," said Gaston. "But if you like, I could shoot him for you."

"You've done enough already," said John, narrowing his eyes and turning back to John.

"So where is Pocahontas anyway?" he asked. "We need her to be our...um...tour guide."

"What are you talking about?" John asked, rubbing on his umbrella. "This better not be an excuse for an affair."

"We need to get to his talking tree," said Gaston.

John Rolfe looked amused.

"Ah, yes, the imaginary friend of Pocahontas," he said. "She took me there once, and you know what happened? Nothing. I just pretended I could hear what it was saying. Women, they're so...so silly."

Gaston turned to his friend.

"Are you sure you know what we're doing?" he asked.

"Trust me, the tree talks," said John. "I was there. The tree talked to me...and it wasn't crazy at all. The tree talked to me...and it was perfectly normal. The tree talked to me...and it wasn't going insane..."

He went on like this for about five minutes.

"Well, British man, me and my friend must be on our way," said Gaston. "We're on an adventure, which is something a man such as yourself probably has not interest in."

And, with that, Gaston took his friends hand and dragged him away.

"He was totally hot for me," said Gaston. "Did you see how he was rubbing on his umbrella when he looked at me?"

But as John Rolfe watched the two friends walk into the distance, the only passion he was feeling in his heart was that of hate. He turned to a mysterious man in a hood who just happened to be next to him.

"Get the men to the tavern tonight," he said. "Tell them it's important."

The mysterious man in the hood nodded his head, got onto his black mysterious horse who was also wearing a hood, and rode off.

"You're not taking my cauldron, Smith..." John Rolfe whispered to himself. "And neither is your manly best friend."