by Mindy

intro by Karen:
Are you ready for this?
Trust me, you’re not.
You might think you’re ready for this…but you couldn’t possibly be.
This is amazeballs.
Enjoy.

A tall man sits at a desk, when suddenly, a chorus of voices can be heard.

“Here comes the General”

He looks uneasy, and replies “This is my office. I’m already here”

“Here comes the General”

“Guys, you can stop saying that.”

Suddenly, a knock is heard at the door.  The door opens before General Washington can reply.  A geeky looking bespectacled young man with a mop of brown hair tentatively steps inside.  The General, irritated, greets him.

“Mr…?”

“Douglas.  Dexter Douglas.”

“Mr… Douglas, I was not expecting you.”

“General, I’d like help you out with a thing or two.”

“Sorry?”

“Yes sir, don’t mean to cause a stir, but I’d like to confer with you.  It’s true – I’m sure that of course you’ll be wary, but I was thinking…?  I bet that you could use an actuary.  You see it’s scary that nary a person in this revolution can seem to carry a count past one or two — um.  It’s just it’s plain to see you need a numbers guy — Cause boss, your budget — well it makes me cry.  No really! I’m a sensitive soul.  So boss-”

“-I’m not your boss-”

“-just bring me into the fold.  If you let me have a look at your books I will cook up a scheme and ream those crooks across the sea.   General, I have figured out America’s path, and I think it ain’t bullets, we gotta use math.”

The General stared at Mr. Douglas for a moment, blinking in disbelief, and wondering what in the hell happened to his bodyguards.  He took a deep breath, and said:

“Look, Mr. Douglas, you come in without appointment. Who went and sent you in here, I don’t know.  But Mr. Douglas it is now past time to go.  I don’t need an assistant, yeah, I got one.  You might of heard of him.  His name is Alexander Hamilton.

“Look, you gotta hear me out boss, — I’m worth a ton.  I can be the superhero of this revolution.  You all got a lot of daring and defiance, but you need me — I got arithmetic and science.  Now, Boss–”

General Washington, who had been turning increasingly red during the course of this last speech, finally slammed his fist onto the table and yelled:

“Call me Boss one. more. time.”

Silence filled the room like a lead weight until Mr. Douglas finally, tentatively, quietly, spoke:

“Listen, I didn’t mean to offend or contend with your authority, I know you fend off people like me constantly.  But see I don’t think that you understand my potential, and it makes me mental that eventually I know you could see.  But sir, I have no doubt that you would be impressed and wowed if you just saw me FREAK OUT.”

General Washington watched in horror as the unassuming man in front of him transformed into a rogueish looking blue skinned …thing? with a shock of black and white hair, and a red jumpsuit emblazoned with an F on it.  Trying to compose himself, General Washington stammered:

“Mr. Douglas, you’ve changed rearranged yourself quite a lot, seems you’re wearing pajamas what is this drama and what do you want?  Whatever this is quite unwelcome, I think it’s time for you to take yourself home.

General Washington watched a grin spread across the blue-skinned person’s face as he waved at the General, and said, “Hi there!”  After a pause, he shook his head, sighed, muttered “When in Rome!” and cleared his throat, looking at you.

“Hey readers, why don’t you give this guy a hand -uh.  He’s almost as good as Lin-Manuel Miranda!  General Washington!  Can’t believe I get to see this — do you know what tickets are going for on Craigslist?  Listen, bud, we gotta fight, like men, kay? Let’s have it out about who’d be a better presidente!”

“Mr. Douglas -”

“You can call me Freakazoid”

“I’m not gonna fight you but I am getting real annoyed.”

Freakazoid sighed, and from no discernable pocket, pulled out a piece of paper.

 

“General, I feel you, yeah I really do, but listen, there was a reader that specifically asked for you.  Check out this email that the foxes in the henhouse got.  We’re basically obligated to fight a lot.”

General Washington grabbed a pair of glasses from his desk, stared at the sheet of paper, reading it several times, and finally shook his head ruefully and sighed.

“Freakazoid, I’m not one to retreat from any obligation, but I got shit to do — Like, I’ve gotta found a nation?  I don’t have time for a fight unless it is a big fish, you know I gotta focus right on the English. Besides, I got no beef with you.  Why risk life and limb if I don’t need to?”

“General, they never said weapons must be involved — perhaps there’s another way that we could get this all resolved.  Would you agree to test who is the best of the two of us?  I have a game that’s famous cross the land to try — it’s insane tests your brain and coordination of the hand and eye. If you’ll agree, you see -no need to punch out lights, and so it’s simple – Winner gets the bragging rights.”

General Washington nodded curtly as Freakazoid pulled out two beanbag chairs, a television, and a console gaming system.  Freakazoid grabbed both controllers, fell into one of the beanbags with an audible thump, and offered one of the controllers to Washington, saying:

“Now don’t don’t don’t let’s start, except I’m about to kick your ass at Mario Kart.”

General Washington selected Mario, and Freakazoid played Yoshi.  They began to drive down the Jungle Parkway.  Freakazoid threw banana peel after banana peel, and General Washington swerved round each one, nonetheless falling off the track multiple times as he struggled to get hold of the gameplay, finally coming in in fifth place.  In Yoshi Valley and Banshee Boardwalk, the General rallied, and strategically used shells to defend his position, much as he did in real life.  Finally, Rainbow Road.  The two were neck and neck, when General Washington finally pulled ahead, and Freakazoid cried out:

“I don’t like the tone of how this might end, so hey, I think I need to phone a friend.”

He paused the game and pulled out a car phone the size of a brick, muttered into it, and hung up.  A moment later, a man who looked suspiciously like a young Freddie Prince Junior walked in the door.  On his arm was an attractive young woman.

“Hey Freakazoid, did you call?”

“Hey, Zach Silar, thank you for coming by — did you manage to try to comply with my request, for the best powerup that there is?”

Zach’s brow furrowed as though to say “Why are you rhyming, Freakazoid?” Freakazoid shrugged slightly as though to say “Crossovers, man. Whatcha gonna do?”  Zach nodded, reaching into his backpack.

“Yup!  It’s ice cold.  Guess you got an urge?”

“Indeed, Mr. Siler, please hand me that can of Surge.”

Freakazoid popped the can open, and chugged it down.

“It ain’t flat! Uh, don’t mean to be a copycat, but I gotta tell you, this soda sure is all that.”

Zach Silar shrugged, and left.

Freakazoid unpaused the game, now fortified by corn syrup and bubbles, and the two continued down the final loop of the Rainbow Road, their eyes intent, their gaze unwavering.

While focused on the screen, Washington quietly sang “One last time….”

Freakazoid belched so loud he may have been heard on the Continent.  He looked somewhat embarrassed, and more than a little proud.  He turned to see if any of the readers noticed, when his car flew off the road!  As it was lifted back to the track, Washington flew past him …to victory.

Washington stood, and nodded silently and slowly.

Freakazoid wept loudly.  And wetly.  As he wiped his nose, Washington reconsidered the dignified handshake he had planned.  He nodded again instead, and declaimed,

“Mr. Freakazoid, you have fought with honor and with bravery.”

“General, for sure it was a good game –your name remains number one, and you’re lots of fun.  Yes sir, it was a pleasure, though someday I’d like a rematch, we’ve scratched only the surface of what I can do.  But for now, before I get too attached, General, I’m gonna use this escape hatch.”

Freakazoid bowed gallantly, stuffed beanbags and games into a smart looking valise, opened a doorway in midair, and stepped through it, closing it behind him.  As the door closed, it disappeared.

The General, mouth slightly agape, shook his head and, after a few moments, sat down behind his desk.

“Here comes the General!”

“GUYS.”