Thank the good sweet
baby Jesus you ALWAYS pay for phone sex with your Capital One Card! All
those airline miles sure are gonna come in handy 'cause you're GOIN' TO
DISNEY WORLD!! To the HALL O' PRESIDENTS!! To have a FEW WORDS… with the
Jefferson animatronic. Makes as much sense as anything else you've done
so far. You thought briefly about digging up Jefferson's corpse, but
that's just ridiculous. Besides, if Jefferson was in on some alien plot,
it's a good bet his animatronic double will know something about it.
Cause Disney's crack team of Imagineers are nothing if not sticklers for
period accuracy. Which in this case will surely include an extensive
knowledge of any secret Alien plots he may have been a part of two
hundred and some odd years ago.
Boy oh boy does the story ever bog down going through airport security.
They make you take your shoes off and empty your pockets and they
confiscate your Sierra Mist, this time seriously. You barely have time
to chug-a-lug the Alien Blood sample before the jack-booted, illiterate,
mouth-breathing federalized airline security minimum wage monkeys
confiscate it as a potentially dangerous liquid. Anyway, long story
short and boring bits removed, in what seems like no time, but is
actually about a day and a half, you find yourself breaking into Disney
world in the middle of the next night. Using your ninja skills (did we
mention you have ninja skills, which you actually purchased online from Deusexmachina.com?)
you slip into the ride your Dad used to punish you with during family
vacations, The Hall of Presidents!
Good lord, it's a disaster! It's like downtown Beirut in the hall of
Presidents, except instead of the kind of real human carnage you ought
to care about instead of reading shit like this, there's bits and pieces
or Robot Presidents everywhere! The top of Millard Fillmore's head rests
beneath Hoover's left leg, Taft's enormous, cable strewing gut is topped
by the unmistakable ass of Richard Millhouse Nixon like a delicious
scoop of vanilla ice cream topped by a cherry! A Nixonian Ass Cherry!
"You'll not find The Turncoat Tom Jefferson amidst this terrible
simulated human tragedy, lad," Says a weary yet wise voice behind you,
"If that's who you're looking for."
"THE ANIMATRONIC FACSIMILE OF THE GREAT EMANCIPATOR, 'HONEST' ABE
LINCOLN!" You shriek like a nancified Belgian schoolboy. But the old
rail-splitter just a-chuckles.
"Jefferson made this mess in an attempt to cover his flight. I was just
about to pursue him and force a confession from him with an old time,
land o' Lincoln thrashing. Care to join me, boy?"
Boy oh boy! You and a robotic Abe Lincoln, saving the world and then
ruling it as father and son! You're daydreaming already, and the
daydream is about to involve some 'quiet time', a little olive oil and
the seductive poetry of Rod Mckuen as only a sentient animatronic
President can render it. When-
"DON'T TRUST HIM BOY!" shouts a second Abe Lincoln, this one a bit
smoother in its movements, and… wearing glasses!
"I'm the REAL synthetic Lincoln," says the four eyed possibly gay chief
executive, "The original from the "A Few Minutes with Mr. Lincoln"
attraction at Disney LAND! I've been retooled and also upgraded during
my sabbatical for DisneyLAND's fiftieth! That penny ante Japanese piece
of crap a-holdin' your hand is a just a cheap substitute they built for
this Floridian hell hole, and easily reprogrammed by that Slave bonin',
Octoroon producin' bastard Jefferson as part of his nefarious plot to
sell us out to ALIEN INVADERS two hundred years after his own
Presidency!
"Shoot him, boy! He'll kill us both! " Yells the Lincoln robot nearest
you.
"Alas," the bespectacled Abe sighs, "You'll have to shoot us both. It's
the only way to be sure you get the evil Lincoln."
"Shoot all three of us, you mean," Says a voice from the shadows. Happy
Gilmore! It's the Abe Lincoln from that episode of Star Trek where Kirk
met Abe Lincoln!
