Illinoir

Wrote 1200 words on unlined laser paper at work. Someone — I’m not naming names — threw an olive at me while I was doing this. It bounced off the table and landed in my left sleeve. Amazing throw, but I hate olives passionately, so it was an unpleasant experience.

I’m losing my sense of humor about all this…. Need to find it again.

Wrote this today and while completely out of place, it was fun to write, and that’s what really counts isn’t it. Made me realize how much of an easy word pad swear words are. Stupid Lincoln didn’t use foul language (or drink or use tobacco) which makes it hard to do any of the easy things it is to make a character do. Also tough to do any of the product placement that my sponsors keep demanding. (“Then Lincoln lit a Kool and noted with pleasure the refreshing menthol flavor.”)

Anyhow — without further ado (when Hitler hyped something up, was that Führer ado?…oh, that, right there, my friends, is too much good stuff….)

At Fort Sumter, Private J.K. Wheeler was huddled under a table with his longtime friend, Private Addleborough G. Kamloop as the shelling continued unabated.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” Wheeler shouted over the booming explosions.
“It’s pretty goddamned ironic, if you ask me,” replied Kamloop.
“I’m not quite sure that it approaches irony as it’s so far wedged into the land of suck that it hasn’t time to be anywhere else.”
“Think about it, though,” insisted Kamloop. “Here we are in a coastal fort, being attacked from the fucking ground.”
“That’s exactly why it fucking sucks!” shouted Wheeler. “Their cannon are lobbing shells over the damned walls and our guns can’t point down far enough to even hit them. Anything that can traverse down to be effective is up at the top of the fort and you know what happened to the last guys who went up there to try to fire one.”
“Actually, I didn’t hear about that. What happened?”
“Well, you remember Jimmy Alton?”
“Sure, that kid from New York. Claimed he was gonna make it big as a musician or some shit, right?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.” Wheeler paused as a shell exploded nearby. “Jesus Fuck, that was close. Anyhow, so Major Anderson sends Jimmy with Weatherly and Townsend up there to see if they can’t start getting some fire trained on their cannon, only the second they get up there a shell lands damn near in Jimmy’s lap.”
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Kamloop.
“Yeah, exactly! So he’s bouncing it around in his hands not knowing what to do, right? And Weatherly is screaming at him to throw the fuckin’ thing back over the side and Townsend dives for cover except he falls through the ladder hatch.”
“Woah – is he alright?”
“Is he alright? That poor bastard fell three stories! He broke both his wrists! But you know what they say –”
“Coulda been worse. Right, right.”
“Exactly,” said Wheeler. “So Jimmy is hot potatoing this goddamn shell around and finally tosses it to Weatherly and Weatherly gets so pissed off that he drops the fucking thing on the ground and goes after Jimmy. Starts beating the blessed snot out of the poor kid. Meanwhile, the shell is just sitting there next to the powder magazine hissing and smoking, looking for an excuse to go off. But Jimmy and Weatherly are rolling around next to it, completely oblivious.”
“Jesus Christ. So does the shell go off?”
“Shit, man, if it had, we’d still be picking bits of Jimmy and Weatherly out of our hair. No, fuckin thing was a dud.”
“Those guys are seriously lucky bastards,” said Kamloops. “What are the odds?”
Another nearby explosion caused the two men to jump.
“Can’t we just fucking surrender?” asked Wheeler. “We should just surrender.”
“That’s the spirit, J.K.” Kamloops said, sarcastically.
“Oh come on. I mean, look at it this way – after this we’re going to be at war, right? No way Abe’s going to let them get away with this, even if they apologize real sweet. Secession was one thing. Yeah it was ‘legally void’ or whatever he called it, and sure it pissed him off, but you’ve got to think that at this point, they’ve crossed the fucking line. They’re attacking United States property. You think you can do that and get away with a slap on the wrist? Fuck no.”
“Fuck no, hoo-rah,” Kamloops grunted.
“Yeah, yeah, hoo-rah. U.S.A. U.S.A. My point is this: we are now well behind enemy lines. There are hundreds of Confed troops out there and thousands more all around us. How many guys do we have here, Addleborough?”
“Dunno. Eighty?”
“Eighty-six all told. Eighty fucking six. Cut off from the country we so dearly love and which holds us close to her heaving bosom. All alone in the wilderness and chaos of the Deep South which is full of backwards-thinking lunatics who can’t decide if they’re super tough or super nice. Right now, Southern Hospitality is going to be a stack of Johnny cakes followed by a musket ball in the throat.”
“Still, I hate to just surrender,” Kamloops said.
“Look, A.G., we are going to sweep through the South with the fury and force of the entire – well, half of it, anyway – United States Armed Forces. We will shock and awe the shit out of these fools until they are so scared they’ll shit their grits.”
“Hoo-rah!” Kamloops said.
“Hoo-rah,” sighed Wheeler.

A day and a half later, as Kamloops and Wheeler stood in formation to march from the fort under the terms of their surrender, they grinned at each other.
“Fuckin’ made it through, A.G.,” said Wheeler.
“Damn right we did,” said Kamloops.
“And we’ll be back, goddammit. All you motherfuckers better get ready for us,” Wheeler said raising his voice as though he were addressing the Southern troops, “because we will motherfuckin be back.”

There are no newspapers available in the world today. It’s ludicrous. Everybody on the planet wants a newspaper that says “Obama Wins!” Should have printed my own paper today. That woulda been smart.

So little writing got done today so far. Hope I can push through to a couple hundred more words. Totally uninspired in terms of making some sense of a story. Just writing bits and pieces that don’t go together very well. Gah.

Realize I’ve been posting really long excerpts. Let’s try to keep it shorter today so that someone might actually read it.

This is a silly scene between Lincoln and Mary. It’s fun writing them together — somehow Mary comes off as a fun-loving, clever girl. Everything I’ve read about her has her as paranoid and temperamental, but hey, it’s fiction for a reason.

Lincoln returned to his own house, all but certain that he would accept Bell’s offer, or at the very least, participate in his plan. He was sure that Bell had not been entirely honest with him – he was a politician after all, was he not? – but that did not overly concern him. He felt sure that with the help of his friends – such as Jesse Dubois here in Springfield and Joshua Speed in Kentucky and his numerous other friends around the country, that whatever Bell had actually planned, he would be more than ready to see through it.
He entered the house, the nurse attending to the children’s bedtime needs, Mary attending to her own in her bedroom. He entered without knocking, finding her in a state of half-undress.
“Mr. Lincoln!” she shouted. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Mrs. Lincoln, how would you like to be the First Lady of the United States?”
“Why, I’m not sure that President Buchanan is looking for a wife, but I suppose I would find it agreeable,” Mary joked.
Lincoln laughed uproariously, nearly shaking the house. He suddenly took his wife into his arms and kissed her. “Oh, Mary, that is why I love you!” he said.
“Because I would leave you for the President of the United States if I thought that he’d take me?” Mary smiled and pressed her forehead against her husband’s. “Honestly, Abe, what is this all about?”
“Would you be too upset if we had to move from here to Washington?”
“It’s an awfully long journey,” Mary said. “I’m not sure my constitution is strong enough for it.”
Lincoln playfully swatted Mary’s rear. “I’d say your constitution is plenty strong enough for that and more.”
“You are a naughty man, Mr. Lincoln,” Mary said coquettishly. “But really, what’s this all about? Stop beating around the bush.”
“I’ll do more than beat around….” Lincoln stopped at a look from his wife. “My apologies, lady. I ask you these questions because I would like to know your thoughts on my putting my hat in the ring for the presidency.”
“For the coming election?” Mary asked.
“Indeed, a mere fifteen months from now, the people will choose a new president. I would have them choose me.”
Mary smiled. “I could think of no better man for them to choose.”