Yesterday in response to a story in Salon that claims an official at Ford’s Theatre found historical inaccuracies in Bill O’Reilly latest novel “Killing Lincoln,” we invited you, our viewers, to create some Lincoln historical fiction of your own.
The response was breathtaking. Though it’s impossible to choose just one, here are a few notables:
Lincoln had been taking a lot of flack from the media about taking his fashionable wife to the theater. Coming home from another important meeting with constituents in Illinois, the press corps was waiting for them as they stepped off Marine One at Ford’s Theater. “Mr. President, how can you spend time enjoying leisure activities when there is so much to do to help our struggling country?, one reporter from Fox News inquired. Without missing a beat his reply was, “I’m doing my part to help stimulate the economy, and honor my wife on our anniversary”. The couple briskly walked into the theater, the heels on Mrs. Lincoln’s Manolo Blahniks clicking up the red carpet as they entered.
14.04.1865 183 ZULU
“Take us to DefCon 11!” the agitated President of the United States shouted.
“What the hell are you talking about?” asked his deputy.
“I dunno,” the POTUS replied, suddenly calm. “I just always wanted to say that. Especially after Gettysburg.”
“Well, our DefCons only go up to ten.”
“Oh really. Perhaps I can do something about that.” He scrawled a brief note.
“Now it goes up to eleven.”
Just outside of El Paso, an exhausted Juan Wilkes Suarez pulled himself from the Rio Grande river and lay heaving on it’s bank. As he caught his breath, Suarez contemplated his next move. He knew that it would be difficult for an undocumented alien to make his way to Washington D.C. He would have to use all of his acting skills, honed as a leading man in mariachi musicals, to pull off a ride with a cross-country semi truck driver. Still, the east coast American accent that he had acquired from listening to pirated audio cassette tapes of “Frasier” was sure to come in handy. He would need a weapon. He’d better get his hands on that before leaving Texas.
More after the Jump!
Having routed the French to finally end the seventeen year Civil War, Lincoln was determined to win the war on Christmas. “As soon as this play is over, I want to blog about how secular progressives are destroying Christmas, see if O’Reilly has an opening tomorrow”, he said.
“Abe brushed hairs from his sweaty forehead as he chopped yet another tree from White House lawn. By jingo, he was going to PERSONALLY build that Oval Office so Bill O would be vindicated by history.”
Lincoln sat in the cold holding cell in the ship of the aliens that had abducted him, his head hanging in sorrow after he was forced to watched his own murder play out before him. The clone they had made of him was an astonishing copy, even his wife didn’t notice. Someday he hoped to escape his captors and take revenge on those who had done this to him. He sighed woefully, knowing there was something involving anal probes and animal mutilation in his near future.
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It was a dark and stormy night. John Wilkes Booth, in the entrance to an alleyway a block from Ford’s Theater, watched the President emerge from his carriage, took a final drag from his cigarette, dropped it and crushed it with his foot.
“Sic semper Tobbacconis,” he muttered.
If you’ve got more Lincoln stories, please don’t let me stop you! The comments are all yours. And thanks again to everyone for their truly impressive creativity.