A film student wants to film a documentary about a local Native American tribe... (long)

So Walter the film student drives his car out to the Native American reservation and asks to talk to the Chief. The Chief looks at him, then looks at the student's relatively new Mazda, and sighs. This isn't the first time he has dealt with white men intruding on the tribe.

A very nervous Walter walks past the rapidly-increasing queue of tribe members that had gathered to "welcome" him. With only 3 cracks in his voice he said to the Chief:

"H-h-hello, Mr. Chief."
-Silence-
"I would like to tell your story to the world. The story of your people!"
"Bah", the Chief says, "Only members of the tribe are aloud to record us here. It cannot be done."

Walter, fearing a F on his final Cinematography project, has to think quickly.

"Please Chief, I mean no disrespect. I am simply fascinated by your culture. I would do anything to gain your trust, and any shots you don't like I will take out of the film."

The Chief ponders this for a moment. The kid is persistent, he hasn't moved an inch since he asked permission to film. The Chief can see beads of sweat growing under Walter's brow.

*"I've got it"*, thinks the Chief.

"Okay boy, if you can survive the trials every boy in the tribe must conquer to become a man, I'll make you an honorary tribe-member and let you film.
First, you must drink my son, the future Chief, under the table. Then, assuming you are conscious, you must trek alone through the sacred woods in nothing but a loincloth and wrestle the mother bear known to wander the caves. After that, you must return here and make love to one of our Native women."

*Walter is **ecstatic**.* Ready for anything, he says : "Okay. Let's start now."
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The Chief's son and Walter sit down in the drinking teepee. There is an eerie silence in the air.
Chief sets two tall shot glasses in front of the young men and filled the glasses with Triple Sec. The Chief's son drank his first, throwing it to the back of his throat with the efficiency of a seasoned alcoholic. Right after, Walter takes his shot and almost chokes. Refusing to let this opportunity slip through his fingers, Walter sets his glass back down on the wooden table and slides it towards the Chief, who gladly filled it again - this time with Rum. Next it was Gin, then Whiskey, and much later the Chief pulled out his bottle of home-brewed moonshine and cracked the top.

The Chief's son is slamming drinks back like nobody's business. He doesn't even flinch when the liquor burns the back of his throat. He retains a calm demeanor and silently puts them away. Just as Walter thinks he can't take another shot, the Chief pours the two of them another round of Moonshine. The Chief's son takes his glass in his hand, pours it down his esophagus.

Then he falls out of his chair onto the floor with a **thump**.

With a shout Walter jumps out of his seat and begins to strip down. He puts on his loincloth and sprints out into the wilderness.
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The Chief does not see nor hear from him for days. Just as he is calling off the search for Walter, they hear a strange rustling from the bushes on the edge of the forest.

Walter emerges, covered in cuts and bruises. His hair is twiggy and ragged, his nails are dirty, and he's missing his loincloth! He staggers up to the Chief and through labored breath says:
"So where's this chick you want me to beat up?"