Category: Abraham Lincoln

Pain.
Sharp, agonizing pain.
Abraham screamed.
“GET THIS BULLDOG OFF OF ME!” rang through the halls of the White House.
Abe flailed his arm, but the bulldog refused to release Abe’s wrist.
At one point, Abe managed to pry the beast’s mouth open with a fireplace iron, but the dog leapt for his thigh and renewed its grip on the President.
“SON OF A BITCH, THAT HURTS!” shouted Abe.
Abe grabbed an axe from his desk and brained the dog, freeing his leg.
He didn’t bother asking why the axe was there, preferring just to remain grateful for its presence.

The tree stood on the edge of the White House lawn, swaying in the breeze.
The scars along its trunk mocked him.
Abe now really hated that tree.
Not enough time, he thought. Not enough time for this.
Lincoln leaned on the axe blade, pushing it into the spinning grindstone. Sweat poured off of his brow, and his shoulders ached with the strain.
“Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe,” he mumbled. “First, not last!”
Next time, he’d just have the artillery boys use it for target practice.

Abraham looked in his mug, frowning.
“Is there a problem, sir?” asked the steward.
“Is this coffee?” asked Abe.
“I don’t think so,” said the steward.
“Okay,” said Abe. “Is it tea?”
The steward sniffed the liquid in the cup.
“It’s neither,” said the steward. “It’s bourbon.”
“Bourbon?” said Lincoln. “Ah. Bring me the rest of the bottle, then.”
Lincoln looked out the window of the rail car.
It would be nice if they were moving. Or were still hooked to the engine, for that matter.
They’ll come back for me, he thought. I’m the President.
He sipped and smiled.

“Stop!” Abraham shouted. “I command you to stop!”
Abe clung to the back legs of the angry elephant, wondering how the hell he got into this mess.
Why do I keep doing these things? he thought. Why won’t I just let him run away?
He let go, passed out, and by some miracle wasn’t trampled.
Later, the ringmaster waved some smelling salts under the president’s nose.
Lincoln awoke. Johnson shrugged and went back home.
“I was drunk again, wasn’t I?” said Abe.
“As a goddamned skunk,” said the ringmaster.
“Forget about the elephants,” said Lincoln. “No more circuses for me.”

Walking carefully up the stairway, Abraham tried hard not to trip on any kittens.
Somewhere down the hallway, the cats were fighting again.
“Monsters!”
He almost made it to the top. Then, all of the sudden, a herd of kittens came down the hallway to the stairs.
The President reeled and grasped for the railing.
After falling four steps, he clung tightly.
“Oh Lord!” moaned Lincoln. “No more kittens!”
Mary Todd poked her head out of the sewing room. “But you said-”
“I think we’ve got more than plenty now!” shouted Abe. “Enough!”
They were coming back.
Abe braced himself.

“The council of Spartansburg is mad, Mister President!” shouted Colonel West. “They have passed a law commanding that everyone in the town must die!”
Abraham shrugged. “Who are we to doubt their angry widsom?”
“But, sir! The law must be repealed!”
“No,” Lincoln said. “Enforce the law to its fullest.”
Two days later, all were dead. Then came the torches.
Spartansburg vanished, scorched clean from the map.
Along with its law books.
Later, Lincoln surveyed the carnage. “Okay, you’re right,” he said. “I should have asked them to repeal the law instead of enforcing it strictly.”
General Sherman took notes.

“It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt,” said Abraham to the crowd.
“What if you just make silly faces?” said a carpenter.
“Um,” said Lincoln. “Er-”
“Or if you roll around in the street and chew horse manure?” said a lady with a broom.
“Well,” said Lincoln. “I mean-”
“Standing in the rain naked is foolish!” shouted a child.
Abraham stopped and stared.
I’m supposed to win the war with these clowns?
Man, he thought, I’m screwed. Let someone else run in 1864, I’m going the hell home.

Abraham smiled and leered over his old enemy Senator Douglas.
“So, will you be my friend now?” said Lincoln.
“Never!” shouted the bloody-faced Douglas. “I will never yield!”
Lincoln kicked Douglas in the ribs, and Douglas howled in pain.
“Friends?’ offered Lincoln, reaching down to the bloody and ragged Senator. “Please?”
“Never!” wheezed the wobbly Douglas.
Lincoln hit him with a chair, knocking Douglas out.
Lincoln had him dragged back to the dungeon.
“Rest, my enemy,” said Lincoln. “We begin fresh tomorrow morning.”
Sure, you can destroy your enemies by making friends of them, but where’s the fun in that?

Abraham woke to a horrific grinding and screaming. He ran down to the White House kitchen
“Professor Reynolds, explain yourself this instant!” shouted Lincoln.
“Well, you know how I like to mutilate puppies with knives, correct?”
“Yes,” said Lincoln hesitantly. “You’re quite good at it.”
“I’ve invented a device that will mutilate them quicker with high-speed rotating knives,” said Reynolds. “It’s called a blender.”
Lincoln examined the device. He wiped off the puppy guts and blood and held it up.
“At least you’re doing it well,” said Abraham, putting the blender down. “Go on.”
The screams continued into the night.

The chittering grew louder. Abraham wrapped the last of his shirt around the stick, dipped it in oil, and lit the torch again.
“Back to the Kingdom of the Molemen or ahead to The Cave Of Razor-Apes?” whispered Harry Stanton.
“We should have just stayed in the kitchen,” he grumbled. “What was I thinking?”
“Pardon me, genius,” said McLellan. “Didn’t you say we should seek the unexplored regions?”
“I didn’t mean in here,” he sighed. “How was I to know there was an abyss of caves under that trap door?”
Silence.
Grant emptied his flask.
“Jesus!”
The torch went out.