• Carl Knowles woke up and chucked his alarm clock at the wall. The sleek black plastic that surrounded the electronics shattered into a million pieces as it collided with the plaster. A few fragments stuck into the wall like little reminders that Carl was not a morning person. He threw back the covers, put on the slightly starched bathrobe that hung on his door, and went down stairs to have a mug of the coffee he knew he didn't have.

    It was a Monday, which would've been bad enough if not for the events of the day before. On Sunday, he was getting the paper from the slot in his front door when he noticed that his dog seamed to be missing. This fact was made a bit more worrisome by a dog that looked exactly like it was lying dead in the center of the road. Deeply saddened and armed with a garbage bag and shovel, he removed the lifeless animal and gave it a proper burial beside a dry patch of ground where he used to garden zucchinis. He didn't have enough money for a tombstone, so he opted instead to nail the dog's food dish to a wooden stake that was planted firmly above the grave. And it was for this very reason that he decided to take the day off from work the next day. He wouldn't even bother calling, for he knew that they would understand his grief.

    He was thinking about maybe renting a movie or something when a sharp knock came from the front door. Confused, for the mailman had given him his mail earlier, he went to the door and opened it to find a tall man in a top hat and frock coat standing on his welcome mat. The man smiled past the bushy beard that sat on his chin and calmly said "Yo, what up, G?" Now horribly confused, Carl replied with a quick "Huh?" The tall man cackled and replied "I am Abraham Lincoln, and your country needs you!" A moment of silence passed between them and Abe awkwardly asked "Err... can I come in?" Not one to refuse company, Carl invited him in and offered to get him a drink. "Got any coffee?" Abe asked. Carl replied "No." Now enraged, Abe knocked over a table and screamed "What do you mean 'No?' Dammit, I wasn't president just for you to drink some friggen' water!" Carl apologized and suggested a cup of tea. Abe howled with rage "Tea? TEA?! WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT SOME TEA?! TEA IS FOR SISSIES AND THE ENGLISH!!!" He collapsed onto an overstuffed chair and played with a piece splintered wood from the now demolished table. "I guess I'll take a juice box or something..." Carl poured him a glass of apple juice and handed it to him. Abe drank the amber liquid in a single gulp and sighed before leisurely throwing the glass at the wall behind him. He belched loudly and seemed to be rather happy with himself.

    "Mr. Lincoln?" Carl inquired, "Why does my country need me?" Abe furrowed his brow for a moment as if he were trying to remember something important and then jumped to his feet with a smile on his face. "You must take me to Giant Eagle!" he bellowed joyously. Carl frowned a little and replied "We don't have one; we only have a Rite-Aid." Abe shrugged and replied "Should be good enough. We only need to get a few supplies anyway." Another slightly awkward moment passed and Abe asked "Do you own a car?" Carl replied "Yes I do." "What kind is it?" asked Abe with a quizzical look across his face. Carl sighed and said "It's a Ford." Abe tossed a TV through one of the bay windows with a howl of rage. After that short outburst was over, Abe merely stated "I met Ford once. He was a d**k." He frowned a little when he noticed the horrified expression on Carl's face. "Well," he boomed, "are you just going to stand there gawking or are you going to take me to Rite-Aid?" Carl continued staring as Abe crossed over a large pile of debris that had gathered on the floor, picked Carl up onto his shoulder, and carried him through the front door and into the garage where he hot-wired the vehicle in a matter of seconds. He flashed Carl a wicked smile and peeled out of the driveway without even bothering to open the garage door. A hole shaped like Carl's Taurus was left behind.

    About five minutes later, after parking in a handicapped space ("I think you have some emotional trauma and those cripples are just faking." Abe insisted), Carl and Abe walked down the medicine aisle in Rite-Aid. After inspecting every item on the shelves, Abe declared that they did not have what he wanted. "Do they have one of those pharmaceutical pick-up places or something?" asked Abe, drinking heavily from a bottle of children's cough syrup that he had just opened. Carl raised an eyebrow and said "Yeah, it's just two aisles over." Abe dropped the bottle and wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. "Then let's get a move on." He walked towards the area Carl had pointed to but stopped short of walking up to the counter. He glared at the man who worked there and reached into his pocket to remove a wad of cash. He handed it to Carl and instructed him to "Go buy an assload of oxycotton." "Why?" asked Carl, confused by what was going on. Lincoln rolled his eyes and said "Would you believe me if I said it was for the Civil War?" "No." replied Carl. Abe smiled and said "Good, because I'd be lying. Just go get the drugs."

    Carl sheepishly approached the pharmacist and said "I'd like to buy some oxycotton." Without looking up from the magazine he was reading, he boredly suggested "Don't you mean OxyContin?" "YES, DAMMIT!" shouted Abe with a fist raised into the air. Carl shrugged and said "I guess so." The pharmacist finally looked up and immediately spied Abe standing a little ways back. He looked at Carl with a feeling of slight resentment and said "Am I being punked or something? Because your friend over there looks a bit like Abraham Lincoln." "Well," said Carl, "that's because he kind of is." The phamacist continued to stare blankly at Abe and then soundlessly pressed the button below the counter that was reserved for calling the CIA in case Abraham Lincoln showed up. Apparently, this had happened before. A few minutes of awkwardness passed when a large amount of solid black vans pulled up to the curb outside of the store and opened to reveal an even larger group of heavily armed CIA agents in matching black suits with a few of them wearing sunglasses. They quickly entered into the store, spread out, and met back up at the pharmacutical area. Abe sniffed the air a few times, as if he were a dog trying to pick up a scent. He growled a bit with a wicked smile and said "Fire up the grill 'cause I smell bacon!" One of the lead agents ordered "FIRE!!!" and the whole place opened up with the cacophony of gunfire screams and shattering jars. The pharmacist, in the midst of all this choas, nonchalontly pulled down the bullet proof glass over the counter and continued reading.

    The gunfire continued while Carl was ducking behind a display of Tylenol. Abe had opened another bottle of cough syrup and was chugging it vigorously. He finished off the bottle and and sighed with satisfaction. He then grapped Carl by the front of his shirt and demanded "Are you packin'?" Carl, not understanding what he meant, said "Packing what?" Abe rolled his eyes and dropped Carl onto the floor. He then removed his hat and reached deeply into it and searched around until he pulled out a fairly large gatling gun. Happy with this new toy, Abe proceded to open fire on the agents. The CIA ducked and retreated a bit as Abe laughed maniacly at the destruction he was creating. That is, until he ran out of bullets.

    Abe frowned as two of the lead agents rolled out from their positions with their guns trained on him. "We have you now, Abraham Lincoln!" they said, "You will be stopped!" Abe laughed a deeply and explosive laugh before declaring "You fools! No one can stop Time Lincoln! No one!" He stretched his hand up and pressed it down on his hat, which collapsed with an audible click. "EVER!"

    "Shoot him before he transports!" yelled one of the agents, but it was too late. Abe had disappeared as mysteriously as he had came. There was complete silence until one of the lead agents swore loudly. "Every time we get close to nailing that guy he transports and we're sent back to the drawing board!" he yelled. He was infuriated even further when the other lead agent suggested "He could just be invisible. We don't really know for sure that he transported again." Another moment of silence passed before a gunshot interrupted it. "If anyone asks," said the first agent, "Lincoln did it." They left and Carl told the pharmacist to cancel his order.

    The drive back home was the longest Carl could remember taking. He mind was racing and trying to make sense of what just happened, but it was no use. Everything that he had thought was true before had disappeared along with Abraham Lincoln. He continuously asked himself questions like "Was he a ghost or an imposter? Is it possible that he was the real Lincoln?" He stopped to get a cup of coffee at a gas station, but upon discovering that the cups were all shaped like top hats for a promotional thing, he decided that he wasn't thirsty.

    When Carl finally got home, he opened the door to find his dog alive and taking a nap on the overstuffed chair that Abe had sat in earlier. Carl cautiously approached the sleeping animal and discovered a note tied on its collar. He removed it and opened it.

    Dear Carl,
    Thanks for nothing, jerk! Honestly, how damn hard is it to get drugs in your time? Then again I may be thinking of the 60's. Anyway, I actually made a time copy of your dog and threw it at a bus this morning (don't ask how, it's complicated (the dog part I mean, the throwing part was easy)). Why you ask? I needed you to stay home because I figured you were American enough to be able to help me, but now I see that I was wrong and you are a communist.

    Up Yours Truly,
    Abraham Lincoln

    Carl folded up the letter and threw it in the trash when he noticed that he had a message on his answering machine. "Hey, buddy." began the message. It was Mr. Louis, his boss from work. "I was actually going to promote you to executive Vice President and get you out of that cubicle today. Seriously, I ordered a cake and pizza for you to celebrate. But you weren't here and didn't call in, so you are obviously either dead or you don't care about the wellbeing of the company and its employees. Remember your buddy Joel Spielberg from accounting?" Carl did remember him, for Joel had stolen his girlfriend about a week ago at the company Easter party. "Well, he was here today and he seams to genuinely care for people, so he's your new boss. Don't worry, though, there is some good news because you are being moved to the basement division so you can work better when and if you decide to come back. Have a nice day, Mr. Knowles, and tell that girlfriend of yours that I said 'Hey.'" The next message was from his mother, she wanted him to help her program her VCR. Carl unplugged the phone and took his dog for a walk. He thought that if he had owned a cat, it never would have left the house and he never would have taken the day off of work. He later was struck by a bus and killed.



    The End