Category: Abraham Lincoln

Lincoln walked out from the telegraph office and silenced the curious reporters with a sheepish grin.
“I have no comment at this time,” said Lincoln.
“But… but…”
“Well, gentlemen, there is a little woman at our house who is probably more interested in this dispatch than I am.”
Lincoln strolled back home, where Mary Todd was finished preparing the evening’s meal.
“Did you win the election?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” said Lincoln. “But I think Thumbelina will want to know that they’ve found a Borrower community in Oregon.”
He stuffed the telegram into the hole in the wainscoting.

Throughout the city, the Founding Fathers were rising from their graves, walking around the town in their tattered rags.
Abraham Lincoln was overjoyed.
“What do they think of my handling of the current conflict?” asked Lincoln. “And what do they think of their beloved Constitution now?”
“We don’t know,” said Stanton. “They keep moaning ‘brains’ and eating people.”
Lincoln frowned and picked up a shotgun. “I guess we’d better take care of this quickly.”
Bill Seward grabbed Lincoln’s sleeve. “You can’t possibly be suggesting we attack the Founding Fathers?”
Lincoln pointed the shotgun at Seward. “Maybe you’re one of them…”

“The bare sight of 50,000 armed and skilled black soldiers on the banks of the Mississippi would end the rebellion at once,” said Lincoln to his vice president.
“We don’t have that many,” said Johnson.
“How many do we have?” said Lincoln.
“Five,” said Johnson. “Maybe six. And they’re not well-trained at all.”
So Lincoln ordered 50,000 white soldiers to cover themselves with shoe polish.
General Robert E. Lee watched them through his spyglass, moaned.
The troops marched to a ford in the river and crossed.
The shoe polish had washed away.
“I see,” said Lee, and he ordered CHARGE!

The Presidential Alchemist lifted the curtain and revealed a tiny box of gearworks.
“What does it do?” asked Lincoln.
“It turns slave soil into free soil,” said the Alchemist. “Let me demonstrate.”
He poured dirt into the hopper, turned the crank, and withdrew a dirt-filled drawer.
“See?” said the Alchemist.
Abe looked at the dirt.
Abe felt the dirt.
Abe even smelled the dirt.
“I suppose it is free soil,” said Lincoln. “How soon can you build a full-sized model?”
“It is full size,” said the Alchemist. “And it’s the only one that works.”
Abe sighed, shrugged, and started cranking.

Hannibal Hamlin and Andrew Johnson faced each other across the mud puddle.
“Can’t you just flip a coin?” asked Hannibal of his soon-to-be former boss.
Abraham shook his weary head. “The Treasury has none to spare,” he said. “Every last penny has gone towards the war effort.”
The crowd surrounding the mud pit taunted Hamlin.
“Coward!”
“Tiebreaking fool!”
“Knave!”
“Weakling!”
Hannibal Hamlin rolled up his sleeves and picked up the rope. So did Johnson.
Half an hour later, the men remained on either side of the mud puddle.
“You’re tugging the rope, right?” asked Lincoln.
Hamlin and Johnson laughed together.

The wedding day with Mary Todd came and went, but Abe was nowhere to be found.
He had gone insane, writing to his friend John Stuart that he was the most miserable man alive.
John found Lincoln sitting in a garbage heap, moaning.
“What’s wrong, Brother Abraham?” asked Stuart.
“She snores,” said Abe.
“Wear earplugs,” said Stuart.
“She’s crazy,” said Abe. “At night, she waves a knife at me.”
“That’s you, stupid,” said Stuart. “You sleepwalk while holding a knife. Then you wake up in front of mirrors.”
Abe and Mary Todd were married.
Stuart gave them a knife set.

Abe read the reports of the Sioux Uprising and grimaced.
“All of this was over some eggs in a nest?” said Lincoln. “Presposterous!”
“And whiskey,” said an aide.
“Well, whiskey’s worth fighting over,” said Lincoln. “Say didn’t we have a deal with the Dakota?”
“We did,” said the aide. “But we don’t now.”
Lincoln nodded. “I suppose we can’t just sue them over this uprising, fighting, raping, and murdering stuff,” he said. “We’re a tad busy with the South.”
“Sue the Sioux?” asked the aide. “That sounds awfully silly.”
“You’re right,” said Lincoln, giggling. “We’d better just kill them all.”

After much shouting, Abraham Lincoln could take no more.
He stood face-to-face with General Grant.
Well, as close to face-to-face with General Grant as one could manage. Grant’s beard presented a formidable barrier, his whiskey breath even more so.
Not wanting to waste more time arguing, Abe put his hand on his heart and said, “I now wish to make the personal acknowledgment that you were right, and I was wrong.”
Grant grunted, holstered his guns, and leaned over a railing to throw up.
Abe would wait until Grant passed out before doing what he was going to do anyway.

Abraham Lincoln put down his afternoon sandwich, rubbed his temples, and moaned.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mary Todd. “Is Congress bothering you again?”
Abe nodded. “It’s those thickheaded fools. I cannot make it better known than it already is that I strongly favor colonization.”
“Well, you know what I do when I want you to remember something,” said Mary Todd.
Abe scratched his head. “No, I don’t.”
“You silly goose, I stick a note in your sandwich,” said Mary Todd.
Abe picked up his sandwich, opened it, and read the note inside:
“QUIT EATING THESE DAMN NOTES BEFORE YOU READ THEM!”