“What is it?” said the ancient politician as he stuffed another stem cell syringe into his thinning veins.
“One of our bean-counters has broken contact.”
“What?! Who was it? Did he take anything?”
“It was Counter 665 and we think he took a Bean.”
Counter 665 ran down Front Street desperately looking for a safe place to hide. He knew it was risky but he had to make it to Old DC and the Bean was the only way he knew to get there. He dodged through the Arena District before finding his way onto Park Street and stumbling into Goodale Park. It was dark and quiet –a perfect place to activate the Bean and make it to Old DC. He looked up at the sky and held his breath as he dropped to his knees and thrust the Bean into the ground.
He was frightened now. Maybe they set him up. Maybe this wasn’t a real Bean! There were probably hundreds of President Overgod’s Loboto Troops waiting to take him to the Surgical Reclamation Hospital! He couldn’t panic. He took a deep breath and thrust the bean back into the ground.
He screamed! He had thrown his life away for nothing! They were sure to track him down. Tears started streaming down his cheeks, trickling down his chest, and saturating the ground. The tears hit the Bean and the Stalk Portal started to grow and open. He should have known that it took pain and anguish to open the portal to Old DC.
Before his eyes the tiny sprout grew into a stalk that seemed to spiral into the heavens. Tears of anguish quickly turned into tears of astonishment and wonder as he admired his handiwork. It was his tears that had made the bean grow.
“Now to climb this beast to the top, and discover the truth that I have longed for all my life!” he said to himself.
Grasping the bottom of the stalk, he gained a firm footing and began his treacherous journey up the beanstalk. Slowly, and with great trepidation, he dug in hand over foot, he climbed slowly, building up steam along the way, soon realizing that world below was lost in a cloud of vapors.
He tried desperately to concentrate on the task at hand, but his mind couldn’t help but wander to thoughts of The Old DC and what he would find there. Did it really exist? Was it just a mythical fairy tale handed down from bean-counter to bean-counter? Soon, he would know the truth.
Finally, he reached the top. He had lost all track of time; it was as if time no longer existed for him. Carefully, he stepped off the stalk and observed his surroundings. He felt as if he had traveled back in time. The place had a surreal feel of the colonial 1700’s. He felt both fear and excitement. He realized that he was in the Old DC. He had made it. His suffering and anguish weren’t for nothing, maybe now he could get the knowledge he so desperately sought.
The cobblestone streets stretched for miles into the distance. A light fog had drifted into the city and the glow of the gas lights caused shadows to drift across the mists. Old DC may look like it was still in the 1700’s but two of the Guards were carrying state of the art energy weapons and they had the emblems of both the New World Order and the Fascist States of America on their sleeves. Counter 665 knew that somewhere in this city of powdered wigs and power-mongers President Overgod’s de-humanization factory and research laboratory had his soul and he was going to get it back.
He had to hurry. No doubt his wanted poster was being downloaded into the wireless cerebral implants of the Loboto Troops and his DNA signature was being keyed into their genetic-sniffer bloodhounds. He had to get someone else’s dirty clothes to effectively disguise himself and confuse the genetic –sniffers. He slid over a garden wall and came up behind an ancient tavern. Hanging just in the door was a powdered wig and the coat of an overly-inebriated patron.
He reached into the tavern and slowly slid the jacket of the hook and grabbed the wig. No one saw him. That went so much easier than he anticipated. Counter 665 draped the jacket around his shoulders and flumped the wig on his head. Power went everywhere as started down the street. It wasn’t until later that realized that the powder on the wig was cocaine.
“Just my luck,” he muttered to himself. “I would have to steal the clothes of some geeked out Coke Head! If there’s Coke up here, then surely there must be an underground community of sorts. I just have to find it. They will be the key to getting my soul back.”
While travelling the road, he came upon what appeared to be a scarecrow, all strapped out on a pole in a white wig, and the colonial style clothes. I decided to veer off the road a bit for a closer inspection.
“I say there, Good Man, would you mind helping me down from here?” The scarecrow asked me.
To say I was startled would be an understatement. Was the cocaine in my wig laced with angel dust and did I inhale it? Was I losing my mind? In either event, I chose to help him down and find out what his story was.
“Thank you my good son. I have been trapped up there for over 200 years now it seems. Pardon me for being so rude, my name is Jefferson. They stole my soul, those Fascist Bastards. They put me up on a pole for my ideals to be poked and picked at while they destroy everything I stood for. You see that field of cannabis over there? They own it and they have a prohibition on it, so that they can maintain some sort of control of the underground community. Arrogant Bastards, they all smoke it, just like they all drank during the ban on booze. ”
I couldn’t believe I was talking to Thomas Jefferson, or that he was in the same predicament as me. Our souls had been zapped from us by the government. Those heartless bastards, who wanted nothing but zombies to do their bidding for them.
Jefferson said there was a converted plantation that served as the hub of the soul stealing zombification elixir that stole his soul over two hundred years ago. Souls were a great source of power. A single soul could power a small village for 50 years but he couldn’t understand why they needed so much power until I explained to him the advances made in science and technology. Then he understood. With that much power, they could make a direct assault on heaven. President Overgod had positioned himself to become the next Lucifer and was planning on knocking on heaven’s door.
He said that in order for the soul’s to focus their power effectively they needed to be held in an obelisk. Once the obelisk was full, the fulcrum of the obelisk could release a piercing energy beam that could puncture the time-space continuum and reveal the pathway to heaven. Then President Overgod could march his army of zombies into the ranks of the angels. He didn’t expect to win against God; he just wanted to crash the party and maybe zombify some of the almighty’s angels. A zombie-angel would be a tasty prize for President Overgod. He could savor the soul while its energy prepared him for immortality.
Jefferson asked if they had constructed any obelisks near Washington DC. For the longest time, I couldn’t think of anything –and then it hit me. The Washington Monument was the Obelisk that held the souls of a million zombies, bean-counters, and the soul of Thomas Jefferson.
“Sir, there is the Washington Monument, in DC. I am sure that is the Obelisk which holds millions of souls, “ I related to Jefferson.
“Come then, My Good Son, let’s gather a few good men and make our way there to destroy it, and free the souls once and for all, ” Jefferson replied most emphatically.
Jefferson and I walked took a shortcut through the cannabis fields and came upon an old run down wood shed. The sun was bouncing off of some sort of metal in the far west corner of the shed. Jefferson and I decided to give it a closer inspection. There was a cherry tree loaded with ripe cherries next to the shed. We picked a few and ate them, they were very sweet. Our bellies were now full of cherries, and we almost forgot about the glistening that had brought us this way in the first place, had it not been for the ax that Jefferson stumbled over, landing him directly into a woodsman made of steel with a powder white wig on of course.
“Pardon, Me, ” Jefferson said looking up at the Woodsman.
“I think he needs lubed, Jefferson, ” I said, pointing to the oil can.
Jefferson gave his mouth a few drops of oil, and The Woodsman sprung to life.
“Thank you, my good men. I have been trapped in this damn can forever. Those bastards thought it was funny to make it a joke out of my ax wielding skills. I’d like to show them a thing or two about wielding an ax right now!” He exclaimed.
I knew in an instant who this was. The Face on the One Dollar Bill. The founding father of our country. The man who could not tell a lie. The one and only, George Washington.
The original axe-man, Washington said he had been stiff for too long and now that he was lubed, he needed to find some action.
Great! We finally get a kick ass military man and all he wants to do is get laid!
“Listen, George,” said Jefferson. “The world is in danger and we don’t have the time to track down someone to have sex with a 200 plus year old man.”
“Ah, shucks,” said the father of the country. “I don’t need you to track anyone down. I know exactly who I want. I always had a thing for Betsy Ross but Martha wouldn’t let me anywhere near her.”
“Betsy Ross?!” I exclaimed. “She’s been dead for centuries.”
“Naw,” said Washington. “She was made a zombie, too.”
“So, we need to free her soul, right?” said Jefferson hopefully.
“Naw,” said Washington. “She fucking hated my guts. I have a better chance while she’s a zombie! She never forgave me for cumming on her flag. “
“Yea, she couldn’t figure out where the 14th star came from until she touched it.” He said smiling sheepishly.
We didn’t know what to say. Our quest to save the United States from itself had just turned into a teen movie in which the father of the country (maybe literally) needed to get some pussy before smashing an obelisk containing the souls of the damned.
“Oh, god dammit!” said Jefferson. “Where is she?”
Washington smiled, swung his axe and said, “Chained to President Overgod’s throne.”
“We will take you to President Overgod and get you your Beloved Betsy Ross. We have a score to settle with President Overgod anyway,” Jefferson explained to Washington.
I swear I could see Washington’s wooden dentures as a smile formed in his mouth. President Overgod must have left it there as some sort of cruel joke.
We followed a blazed out trail through the cannabis field and came upon an abandoned campsite. We decided to go through the campsite and see if we could find anything useful to us by means of supplies. A man covered from head to toe in hair jumped out of a tent and startled us.
“Hey, there! Friend or Foe? ” He asked.
“I believe we are friends,” Jefferson answered.
“Outta sight, Man! Will you just look at what those Fascist Pigs did to me! All I wanted to do was to enlighten people that they could stand up for themselves against a corrupt government. Freedom isn’t Free anymore, man. They called me a coward because I didn’t want to go to prison for their bullshit. I had to hide out. Those bastards have had my soul since the 1960’s!” He exclaimed.
I knew right away who he was. The great Gonzo Yippie Dissenter, Abbie Hoffman.
“Man, I though you died in the 80’s!”
“No man, the CIA broke into my room and shoved a bunch of pills in mouth and made me drink a whole bottle of bourbon. Afterwards, they called in a voodoo priest to cast a zombification spell on me and I came back to life here in cannabis alley. The spell must have made lose my courage because I am too frightened to leave.”
He seemed to drift off for a moment and all of us wondered if he was going to pass out when all of a sudden the cannabis fields burst into flame and the march of President Overgod’s Loboto Troops was heard in the distance.
“Oh man! They’re here. We gotta run dudes!” Hoffman said.
Washington spoke up and said, “No way! It’s time to chop some wood!”
But Jefferson replied, “No! They’ve got state of art armor and weaponry –you got a fucking axe and a hard on! Neither will be able to help us through this.”
We had to move fast, the burning fields were already starting to give a contact buzz and the Loboto Troops were advancing quickly. Hoffman led us down a path to a small stream and a cave that he had been using as a hiding place. We rushed inside to hide until the troops had passed but the fields continued to burn and we started to get so incredibly hungry. We noticed it first in Washington. He started looking at Hoffman like Hoffman was an appetizer. Then he started looking at the rest of as though we were the meal.
At that moment, we heard some splashing occurring in the stream outside the cave.
“Jefferson, try to keep Washington away from Hoffman while I see what’s going on in the stream, ” I said before peering my head outside the cave.
I could see what appeared to be Trout jumping up out of the water. They were huge and incandescent. They must be Rainbow Trout, they were beautiful, big, and sure would make a good meal. How to catch them was the next step. Glancing around I noticed a tree next to the river, maybe if I fashioned a spear from one of the thicker branches, it just might work.
I pulled down a branch from the tree, pulled out my pen knife and sharpened the end to a point. I did this with three other branches, before going back to the cave to gather up the troops to go fishing.
“There is a stream outside this cave full of Rainbow Trout. I made us each a spear so that we might catch some fish, and have something to eat.” I said upon entering the cave.
“Damn, I was hoping that would you would find a young lady bathing in the stream,” Washington leered.
“There will be time for that late,” Jefferson scolded him.
“That is one horny old dude! Come on, Man, I’m starving!” Hoffman chimed in.
We all tumbled out of the cave wary of what we might find but Jefferson was right. The stream was filled with iridescent trout jumping like kids at a rave. The light glinting off their scales was mesmerizing. I found myself swaying to some barely perceptible beat as the urge to dance started growing more intense –Hoffman was already throwing his arms in the air and beginning to gyrate. Jefferson was tapping his toes, throwing his head back, and waving his hair in the air.
Suddenly, Washington yelled, “Oh, HELL NO! I am not going to be seen in some stream in the woods dancing with three other men.”
With that declaration, he threw his spear and the water and stabbed one of the fish. The need to eat overcame us all as Washington started a campfire to cook the fish that we began gathering. The fish smelled delicious as it roasted over the flames.
Jefferson pondered, “I wonder what caused us to act that way?”
Hoffman retorted that it may have been some sort of pheromones secreted by the fish while they were in their breeding grounds. With that he picked up one of the fish scales off the ground and slipped it on his tongue. He urged us all to do the same.
Things went blurry.
We woke up hours later desperate for water. Washington had a trout on his penis. Jefferson was licking his powdered wig. Hoffman was hanging upside down from a tree and I had a dream that my balls had rolled off and joined a croquet circus.
“What a trip!”” Hoffman exclaimed.
“You knew those scales were like Window Panes, didn’t you Hoffman?” I asked him, trying to shake off what I had just experienced.
“Of course, Man! What a wild ride. Look at old horny Washington over there!” Hoffman laughed pointing at the fish.
“You do realize that this little stunt has shaved time off of our mission. Your mayhem has, of course, made Washington a happy man. I honestly think that Old Goat would stick his pecker in anything right now,” Jefferson scolded Hoffman.
“We must regroup and make our way to the Washington Monument and free the souls captured by President Overgod. Let’s clear our minds, and resume our journey,” I said before removing the fish from Washington’s penis.
Washington had a shit eating grin for most of the journey. He even whistled. That had to have been one hell of a fish! I even joked about it with him to which he replied, “I’m surprised it fit. I thought for sure you would have needed a large-mouth bass!”
It took the better part of the day to snake our way through the remainder of the cannabis fields and find our way to Poppy Valley and the opium farms. On the hill in the distance, we saw President Overgod’s Presidential Castle Mansion. It was huge nestled in between jagged mountaintops and poking up through the middle of the clouds was the tip of the Washington Monument.
Jefferson said, “How is that possible?”
I offered that the tip could be surrounded by a trans-dimensional rift that would be able to be seen in both locations and could feasibly be the way in which Old DC was powered.
Washington stood up straight and smiled. “Wait a minute. That’s the Washington Monument?”
“Yes,” responded Jefferson.
Washington continued. “The monument was made in honor of me?”
“Yes!” responded Jefferson snippily.
“Well, they almost got it big enough,” Washington said with a growing smile that wouldn’t fade anytime too soon.
“Grow up!” Jefferson retorted. “You are such a child. How did you ever lead this country to greatness?”
“I was just trying to get laid,” Washington added honestly. “Everywhere I went in that revolution was either to get a girl or run from one. “
Hoffman was definitely getting anxious. He kept looking up at the sky and muttering to himself. Slowly, the rest of us started gazing heavenly in order to determine what was startling Hoffman. At first it appeared to be a few hundred small dots swarming out of President Overgod’s Castle but then the dots kept getting bigger and bigger. We began to panic and take a few steps back.
We had been found out.
President Overgod had released his greatest weapon. Flying towards us was the embodiment of the two-party political system –flying elephants and asses.
“Holy Shit, what are we going to do now?” Hoffman gulped.
“We had better run for cover, and do it fast,” I added.
“I spotted an opening of sorts a few yards back, it was covered over with a metal disc, I am sure it went underground. We can find shelter there,” Jefferson added.
“That was a manhole cover leading to the underground sewer system, Sir ,” I explained.
“I have always found shelter in the underground,” Hoffman said, “Besides the facts that those tunnels will lead us straight to the Washington Monument!”
“Come on, let’s go. We haven’t any time to waste,” Washington commanded with an unusual sense of urgency.
It didn’t take us long to make it to the opening of the Underground System. Hoffman and I removed the Manhole Cover and allowed Jefferson and Washington to enter first. We then climbed down and shut the lid behind us.
We were greeted by an army of soldiers half way down the tunnel. I heard one of them shout “Take him to General Abe!”
“It’s cool guys, it’s me, Abbie. These are some new recruits I brought for you, ” Hoffman tried to explain to them.
“Abbie, you know, everyone has to be cleared through Old Honest Abe, first,” one of the men said to him.
“Right, yeah, man, I know. These are good guys, though.” Hoffman explained.
“Two of these cats look like slave owners, just like President Overgod. Abe ain’t about that shit. A zombie is just another name for a slave, man. We will sort this all out when we get back to General Abe’s quarters,” the soldier explained.
The tunnel was filled with people running in every direction. Flashes of warning lights, the shrill tones of claxon alarms, and the cold glow of computer monitors blurred as we were hurried toward General Abe’s quarters.
“The Elephants and the Asses observed you climbing down the man-hole cover. They have a tentative fix on our position and we have to engage them until the main portion of our force can relocate our forward command post,” said one of the soldiers.
That’s when the thumping began.
Thunderous bangs bellowed through the tunnels. Each one unsettled dirt and clouds of dust plumed into the air. The random burst of machine gun fire rattled throughout the tunnels. The tunnels had cleared as many of the fighters had left to engage the aerial assault. We scampered down the corridors praying that President Overgod’s Troops had not taken over the command center.
“What’s making that horrible noise?” Jefferson asked.
The soldier looked back at us and said, “Falling Elephants. The little booms are the Assess. When you have an army of flying Elephants they do as much damage when they fall as they do with Cybernetic-Enhanced Electro-Magnetic Trunk weapons. Republican Party members are former Armed Forces in the Elephant Division. The Democratic Party members were in the Donkey Division.”
The tunnel swerved to the left as we came to a large wooden door. The soldier pounded on it three times and then slowly started to turn the doorknob. The door creaked open and inside we saw a tall ugly dude wearing a top hat and wielding an axe.
Abraham Lincoln turned and stared into our souls, “Who the fuck are you?”
Washington glowered back at Abe and said, “Who the fuck are you?”
“I am the badass mother fucker that is staging an effective attack against the most powerful military force the world has ever known! I’m the badass mother fucker initiating the first global civil war.”
Washington smiled, “Oh, I like him.”
Standing here face to face with Abraham Lincoln, I felt somewhat overwhelmed by the authority he commanded. He was a brilliant man, and his ideals had brought a suppressed people out of the bonds of slavery during America’s Civil War. If anyone could defeat President Overgod, it would be Lincoln.
“Please allow me to introduce myself and my comrades. I am Counter 665, and to my left is President Jefferson, President Washington, and Abbie Hoffman. We all met along the way, and banded together. Seems there is safety in numbers, Sir,” I said.
“Do you have any intelligence you wish to share with me, young man?” Lincoln asked tugging on his beard and swinging on his axe.
“Just that we are on our way to the Washington Memorial to free the Souls that President Overgod has trapped there and is using to fuel his Zombie Combustion Machine,” I answered.
“I will start a more vigorous attack on the Washington Monument! This appears to hold the key to winning the war once and for all! Lincoln exclaimed.
“What we need is a diversion. Something big and audacious,” said Lincoln.
“That would be my dick,” said Washington.
Jefferson laughed, “I saw the bean counter remove the trout. It was impressive but not THAT impressive.”
“I meant, you trout sniffer, that we do a frontal assault to free Betsy Ross while Old Abe here gets his men in position for the assault on the American people’s tribute to my penis –the Washington Monument. Which, by the way, was not called the Jefferson Monument. At least Abe got to set on a big Marble chair for his part on unifying the country.”
Lincoln looked thoughtful for a moment. He stood up walked towards us and said, “Men, this mission is tantamount to suicide. The fact that you are willing to do this for your country is perhaps one of the most honorable actions that a man can take to preserve the sanctity of his nation. I will see to it that you are all awarded the highest honors that this nation can bestow –posthumously, of course.”
With that, Lincoln turned his back to us, looked at his men, told them to arm us with the best they had, and walked out the door. I was shocked. Jefferson appeared grimly determined. Washington was stroking his axe smiling like a horny goat and Hoffman pissed himself so badly he had to pour it out of his shoes.
“Think, Hoffman. Back in the day you were known for creating chaos and diversions, “I said to Hoffman who stood there dumbfounded.
“Yes, but these aren’t your typical fascist bastards. These are your soul stealing fascist bastards,” Hoffman commented.
“Set a damn fire,” chimed in Washington, “I mean a really good rip roaring blaze. While the bastards are busy trying to put the blasted thing out, we can make our way to the Monument.”
“Washington is right, A fire is always a good diversion, “Jefferson agreed. ” We need some kind of combustible agent to make that bitch blow sky high!”
“Like Gasoline? The Fascist bastards use it keeps their zombies in line. This will be good!” I said.
“Wait a minute!” said Hoffman. “We do need a fire. A righteous blaze that will spread peace and understanding –just long enough for Washington to free Ross! Quick, send some men back to the cannabis fields to get my special bails of hemp out of the cave!”
“What good will that do?” asked Jefferson.
“They have been infused with those special trout scales. The formula should be able to by-pass the breathing apparatus of the Loboto-Troopers –buying us some time to get through the bulk of their forces.”
“So, you want to give hallucinogens to armed troops that we will be walking through?”
“Absolutely,” said Hoffman.
“It appears Mr. Hoffman has found his courage.” Washington preened.
Lincoln’s men came back a few hours later with the bails of hemp. He quickly prepared them for use by altering a few dozen “pot” smoke grenades. We loaded up our gear and made our way through the craggy mountains toward President Overgod’s Castle. The terrain was littered with Assess and Elephants and the smell was starting to dissuade even Washington –who seemed to be able to eat in the most horrible of circumstances. Some of the Assess had some horseshoes that were stamped by the symbols of the Masons –this seemed odd to me and I asked if the Masons supported President Overgod?
Jefferson looked oddly at me. “Beany, do you remember anything about who you were before you were brainwashed?”
Washington coughed nervously and changed the subject, “I was in the Freemasons, Beany, and I don’t think the Freemasons would ever support the current regime. They may sell them goods and use the money to defeat them, though.”
Hoffman laughed, “Yea, man they were the original underground. They just got weird.”
We rounded the corner and approached the first guardhouse leading into the castle’s courtyard.
“Weird isn’t the word for it, Hoffman. They became involved in some sort of Illuminatti Bullshit that wanted only the rich to control the world, ” I said before the flash of a hemp grenade went off a few feet in front of me.
Suddenly I began to feel dizzy, visions of lightning were pulsating through my mind. I looked at myself dressed in the colonial attire and had a weird feeling that it fit me too well.
“Holy Fuck, I am Benjamin Franklin!” I shouted.
“Tone it down, man, we don’t need to get blown away because you finally figured out that your face is on the hundred dollar bill, ” Hoffman said, putting his hand over my mouth.
“He has been taking advantage of your scientific skills for some time now, Ben,” Jefferson added.
“If Ben is on the One Hundred dollar bill, what Currency do I grace? ” Washington asked
“That would be the Dollar Bill, Washington. As in One, ” Hoffman answered.
“Well how do you like those beans?” Washington grunted.
We snuck through the courtyard pumping several hemp grenades into the Loboto Troop’s barracks. Once they were pacified, we were able to sneak our way into the main antechamber of President Overgod’s castle. No guards were in front of the main audience chamber and we could see President Overgod sitting on his throne with poor Betsy Ross chained at his side.
President Overgod was actually a pair of conjoined twins that were twisted together at the spine. Their pale flesh was tinged with a jaundice that came from a damaged liver that only cleaned a portion of the toxins coursing through the wretched creature’s veins. Each head spoke in a raspy voice that was only distinguished by a shriller pitch in the one that was called Fannie. Freddie’s voice was baritone and grated the ears of all the listeners like nails scraping a chalk board. Each one carried a teabag rescued from the Boston Tea Party around their necks and forced all petitioners to kiss the bag prior to making any statements. Periodically, a hand would flip down and play with Betsy’s hair. She would cringe at each touch.
“Freddie,” rasped Fannie.
“Yes, Fannie,” whispered Freddie.
“I think Betsy needs to be reminded why she is allowed to live,” said Fannie.
“Yes, Fannie,” Freddie crooned.
With that, Freddie tugged on the chain attached to the collar around Betsy’s neck. Betsy stood up and slowly walked in front of the political abomination. Betsy slowly started swaying to some unheard melody. She shook her hair into the air exposing the flesh of her neck for a mere second but that was enough for the lecherous two-headed monster to leap from the throne as each head bit into the flesh on each side of Betsy’s neck. Betsy screamed has blood trickled down her back and chest. A blue glow began emanating from Betsy’s body.
“Ah, the soul of nation is coursing through your veins, bitch.” Freddie yelled.
“…and now it flows through ours,” continued Fannie.
Washington could barely be restrained. It took all of us to hold him back. Then suddenly a claxon alarm went off and lights started flashing. A guard ran in from a side door and screamed, “Lincoln has started an assault on the Washington Monument!”
“The monument has been compromised!” Freddie exclaimed in that raspy voice of his.
“That’s right, and soon all the souls that you have stolen and have been using to power your empire will be free, ” Jefferson retorted.
“Enough of this! Assemble the Loboto Troops and defend the Monument at Once!” Fannie shouted.
It was at the moment we heard it. Marching. The sound of a million men marching. It had to be Lincoln’s Army storming the palace. The noise grew louder and louder. The door burst open and it was the Lincoln’s Army led by Martin Luther King, Jr. and Medgar Evers . Something told me that they weren’t going to take a back seat to President Overgod any longer.
“We are her to take the Palace through a Peaceful Acquisition ” King stated.
“You will never take the monument!” Fannie hissed at him.
“Lincoln and Kennedy are cracking it open even as we speak,” Evers stated matter of factly.
“Free at last,” Hoffman sighed.
“I believe that’s my line,” King said with a smile.