by Wiles, David
“Yes,” General O’Hara replied. “I believe I can explain if… may I speak plainly?”
“Of course,” Washington said.
“And may I count upon your discretion?” O’Hara asked. “In a rather…delicate matter?”
“I can assure you of discretion,” Washington said. “Whenever possible.”
“Thank you, General Washington,” O’Hara said. “It seems that General Cornwallis has been…bitten. By one of his zombies.”
There was an exceedingly long pause where Washington said nothing but simply exhaled a long, slow breath, as if relieved of a great burden.
“That being the case, I can understand why he is not here,” Washington stated at last. “Has he yet…turned?”
“Yes,” O’Hara replied. “He is now a zombie. So you see why he cannot be present.”
The men both returned to the formal surrender ceremony, which unfolded without incident. But as General O’Hara offered Washington the sword of Cornwallis, Washington thought it inappropriate that he should accept the sword from a British subordinate, and had one of his own subordinate officers accept it in his stead.
The ceremony being concluded, Washington wished a final word with British General O’Hara.
“You are certain that ALL the zombies have been destroyed?” Washington asked.
“You have my word they are all destroyed, General,” O’Hara replied. “Ironically, the last remaining zombie in North America is General Cornwallis. He will be taken back to England, where he will be safely locked away in his family estate for the remainder of his…existence.”
“Very well,” Washington replied, taking a long moment of reflection to contemplate the appropriately ironic fate of General Cornwallis.
History records that Lord General Cornwallis, the last zombie of the American Revolution, was indeed taken back to his family estate in London and locked in the manor basement for the remainder of his days. He was fed a steady of diet of roadkill, table scraps and the occasional jelly donut, and remained a disgraceful reminder of personal failure for his family during his final days on earth.
British records state that Cornwallis finally expired in 1789 after a fall down the basement stairs which shattered his skull and ended his sad existence. He was buried in an unmarked grave behind the outhouse of his family estate.
Chapter 73
President George Washington
On April 30th, 1789, George Washington stood proudly inside the second floor assembly room of Federal Hall in New York City. The votes of the Electoral College had been certified, and George Washington had been elected unanimously as the first President of the United States. Surrounded by friends and family, he was about to step out on to the balcony, before tens of thousands of assembled Americans, to take the official oath of office.
Before stepping out, Washington spoke briefly with Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson. His former slave and aide Reebock, now a free man, approached the trio carrying a small bundle.
“Mister Jefferson, Doctor Franklin,” Washington said. “May I present to you my former slave and aide, Reebock, who as a free man has taken the name of Mister Reebock Douglass.” They both shook his right hand as he leaned forward with the small bundle in his left hand.
“I wanted you gentlemen to see this,” Reebock said, pulling down the blanket to reveal a small baby that his wife Beyonce had given birth to just last night.”
“He’s beautiful,” Washington said. “And he’s got his father’s gangsta’ gleam in his eye.”
Jefferson and Franklin leaned forward with many smiles and oochy woochy coochy coos for the child.
“We were hoping you would be the child’s godfather?” Reebock asked. “And give the child your blessing?”
“I would be honored,” Washington replied. “What is his name?”
“Frederick,” Reebock replied. “Frederick Douglass.
Washington put his hand upon the child’s forehead and said, “Young Frederick Douglass, may you grow to become a warrior for freedom, as was your father.”
That child would grow into adulthood and would become one of the true champions in the fight for the abolition of slavery.
“Thank you, Sir,” Reebock said. “My only hope is that he can be a warrior equal to any of you three gentlemen,” Reebock said, smiling at Jefferson, Franklin and Washington.
“Warrior?” Franklin asked. “Whatever do you mean? I am a simple inventor and diplomat and printer.”
“And I,” Jefferson added, “I am merely a writer, and a farmer.”
The four men laughed together for a moment, before Jefferson grew serious.
“I wish Americans could really know what a true warrior and zombie slayer you have been,” Jefferson said to Washington, “How faithfully you fought for their freedom. How much you have sacrificed, even to the loss of your own children.”
“It was my fate to encounter zombies as a boy, and as a man,” Washington said. “But I was given the knowledge and the skills to defeat them. Most importantly, I was given the faithful friends I needed to complete the task.” Washington hugged the three men as John Adams approached.
“General Washington,” Adams said, “it’s time.”
Washington took a moment to kiss his wife Martha, and to inspect his appearance in the mirror. He installed his blingy, gold and diamond dentures Martha had bought him for Christmas those many years past, and he stepped out to the balcony.
A thunderous cheer rose up from the streets of New York City, with a volume and fullness unequaled to this day. Washington placed his hand on the bible with a sparkling smile and took the oath of office, adding “so help me God” of his own volition at the end of the oath. Washington soaked in the love and adoration of the multitude awhile, before retiring inside, where a messenger waited for him.
Washington opened the envelope, and saw the message was from the British Brigadier General Chuck O’Hara. Sent from Britain, it was dated many weeks earlier and had just today arrived by ship.
General Washington-
I have just today learned of your election as President, and this letter may find you already inaugurated by the time it arrives to you in New York City.
It is also my duty to inform you of the Death of General Cornwallis today after he took a nasty spill down the basement steps at home and busted his fucking head open like a god-damn melon.
Best of wishes in your new job and much love,
Sincerely, Chuck
George Washington’s hand trembled as he read the letter and he placed it in his coat pocket. The world’s last zombie was gone, and his task as a zombie slayer was now complete. Washington’s life had come full circle.
“What’s wrong?” Martha Washington asked, noticing his change in demeanor.
“Nothing,” Washington said with a smile, and the hint of a tear in his eye. “Everything is perfect,” he added, hugging his wife before he lit up and puffed a blunt and then handed it to Reebock.
“Everything is perfect.”
