When you're on a road
trip with three fake ex-presidents on a quest to save the world from
evil aliens, you need to sate your hunger with some authentic Mexican
food. However, you're also traveling on a budget, so you'll have to
settle for Taco Bell instead. Better stick with the drive-thru, too. You
can't imagine the kind of trouble you'd stir up by exposing your Lincoln
posse to the ignorant masses.
You pull into the drive-thru line and ask the Lincolns what they want.
No-glasses Lincoln declares that he wants, "oil, oooooooil." Glasses
Lincoln chuckles at his Wizard of Oz reference, and Trek Lincoln asks
for mutton and a stein of mead. "Don't worry," you reassure them, "I'll
get you guys something good." Maybe "something good" was a bit of a
stretch, but there's no time for that now, for the time of ordering is
upon you:
Alright, finally some
good luck. You've got a five dollar bill, AND a penny in your pocket.
Things are looking up. You pay the guy at the first window, grab the
"food" from the second window, and marvel at this being the only Taco
Bell you've ever seen with no Mexicans working in it. Then again, those
other Taco Bells could have been stocked with Puerto Ricans, Cubans, or
any number of other Spanish-speaking minorities. It was wrong of you to
think such a politically-incorrect thing. I mean, what would the
presidents think if they heard you saying such flim flam? Judging from
the angry scowls on the two mechanical Lincolns, you'd say they're twice
as outraged as you thought.
"Uh, what's wrong, Honest Abes?"
"You... You gave away one of our brothers!!"
"You mean, the five or the..." No-glasses grabs your neck while Glasses
starts punching you in the head. Crap, you think in between blows to the
head, these robots are gonna kill me. Luckily, you have a plan. You call
out, "look, Frederick Douglas," and the two robot Lincolns turn to look,
giving you just enough time to devour half of your Taco Bell order. The
beating resumes with twice the fury, but you're confident your plan will
save you. As you border on unconsciousness, you void your bowels, and
the Taco Bell-fueled result creates a corrosive vapor that rusts out the
two mecha-Lincolns in moments, leaving only Trek Lincoln. He reaches for
the wheel, but the stench overpowers him, and he drops back into his
seat grabbing his nose and cursing fervently. What a lightweight. You'd
scold him, but the car veering off the road and slamming into a tree
puts the kibosh on that plan.
