Section 4, Chapter 1: The Virginia Dynasty
Jefferson, elected a national hero by the peasantry, was generally regarded as a President. He wore dirty shoes and lousy button-up mittens to work, much to the cheer and festivities of the mob, and much to the festering clicking chatter of the parasitic over-classes, who were forced into their subterranean burrows his first administration.
But Jefferson, after watching his beloved friend die at the hands (or digestive filaments) of the tyrannical Hamilton, would never be the same. He would brood on his presidential hay-bales for days on end, writing dark teenage poetry and making unhappy grunting noises to indicate his wishes. This behavior was taken as a sign of weakness by many opponents, but none dared openly deride the president, since this was a democracy, and that is illegal.
Unbeknownst to the others, Jefferson was a brilliant molecular biologist. His discoveries in the field of prosthetic limbs are widely regarded as important. No one saw him for an entire month. After fourty-two days, his aides, frightened, came to check on him. Jefferson was missing from the barn yard where he usually slept. The aides searched about the property. Finally, in desperation, they checked in the newly-constructed oval office (a place Jefferson had sworn never to enter on account of its audacious and monarchical foot stools. They opened the door swiftly, and to their shock and utter horror, there sat a massive iron-clad figure set in Roman-era regalia and holding a British-crown jewel septre.
"Whu...where is Jefferson?" stammered one the aids
There was no reply
"Who are you? Speak!" another yelled
Still it said nothing. An aged aide came tottering to the doorway.
"Fellows fellows, `tis merely the figure of Shölhamunste, mine own lord and prince."
The old man hobbled over to the figure and removed the helmet, revealing a white skull beneath.
"Oh that crazy Aged Aide! He done it again!" said an aide
"Him with his pagan skeleton deities" laughed another enthusiastically
Then the door slammed behind them, and the curtains collapsed, seemingly on their own accord. Then from out of the corner, and out of the shadows, came a tall gaunt man, hardly recognizable as the shell of former--
"Jefferson," cried an aide, "thank god it art thou!"
"Jefferson," replied the thing, "is dead. I am Virginia, the dynasty."
The aides looked at one another confusedly.
"Why, that's a terrible name. How did you think of that, what does it even mean?"
The dynasty only smiled, or perhaps yawned, as it raised is emaciated hand and made a peculiar clicking sound. From a secret den in the far reaches of the room, one hundred yeomen came forth, brandishing their prosthetic farming implements-- tractors, pitchforks, and milk-- and assimilated their aides to their own species through an unknown process of intra-cellular transmogrification.
And by the end of the year, nearly all of the bureaucrats in the young nation were not men nor women, but yeomen--the horrid spawn of a mad scientist gone bad--a made driven mad by the cruel parasitism of the Hamiltonians--a man who would rule America until his downfall with the coming of Andrew Jackson.
End of Section 4, Chapter 1
See next: Section 4, Chapter 23: Rebel Yeomen and the War of 1812
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Jefferson, elected a national hero by the peasantry, was generally regarded as a President. He wore dirty shoes and lousy button-up mittens to work, much to the cheer and festivities of the mob, and much to the festering clicking chatter of the parasitic over-classes, who were forced into their subterranean burrows his first administration.
But Jefferson, after watching his beloved friend die at the hands (or digestive filaments) of the tyrannical Hamilton, would never be the same. He would brood on his presidential hay-bales for days on end, writing dark teenage poetry and making unhappy grunting noises to indicate his wishes. This behavior was taken as a sign of weakness by many opponents, but none dared openly deride the president, since this was a democracy, and that is illegal.
Unbeknownst to the others, Jefferson was a brilliant molecular biologist. His discoveries in the field of prosthetic limbs are widely regarded as important. No one saw him for an entire month. After fourty-two days, his aides, frightened, came to check on him. Jefferson was missing from the barn yard where he usually slept. The aides searched about the property. Finally, in desperation, they checked in the newly-constructed oval office (a place Jefferson had sworn never to enter on account of its audacious and monarchical foot stools. They opened the door swiftly, and to their shock and utter horror, there sat a massive iron-clad figure set in Roman-era regalia and holding a British-crown jewel septre.
"Whu...where is Jefferson?" stammered one the aids
There was no reply
"Who are you? Speak!" another yelled
Still it said nothing. An aged aide came tottering to the doorway.
"Fellows fellows, `tis merely the figure of Shölhamunste, mine own lord and prince."
The old man hobbled over to the figure and removed the helmet, revealing a white skull beneath.
"Oh that crazy Aged Aide! He done it again!" said an aide
"Him with his pagan skeleton deities" laughed another enthusiastically
Then the door slammed behind them, and the curtains collapsed, seemingly on their own accord. Then from out of the corner, and out of the shadows, came a tall gaunt man, hardly recognizable as the shell of former--
"Jefferson," cried an aide, "thank god it art thou!"
"Jefferson," replied the thing, "is dead. I am Virginia, the dynasty."
The aides looked at one another confusedly.
"Why, that's a terrible name. How did you think of that, what does it even mean?"
The dynasty only smiled, or perhaps yawned, as it raised is emaciated hand and made a peculiar clicking sound. From a secret den in the far reaches of the room, one hundred yeomen came forth, brandishing their prosthetic farming implements-- tractors, pitchforks, and milk-- and assimilated their aides to their own species through an unknown process of intra-cellular transmogrification.
And by the end of the year, nearly all of the bureaucrats in the young nation were not men nor women, but yeomen--the horrid spawn of a mad scientist gone bad--a made driven mad by the cruel parasitism of the Hamiltonians--a man who would rule America until his downfall with the coming of Andrew Jackson.
End of Section 4, Chapter 1
See next: Section 4, Chapter 23: Rebel Yeomen and the War of 1812
DO YOU HAVE PROBLEMS?
NOT ANYMORE!
GET CHEAP LOANS NOW NOW NOW!!!
FREE MONEY
BE HAPPY FOREVER
NOW RISK, NO PROBLEMS
(OP: Ben, January 30 2008)
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