SEGMENT 2: CHARLES LEE TRIES TO TAKE OVER WASHINGTON'S JOB
Muffled shouting filled Washington's ears as soon as he stepped out the door of his study. It seemed to be coming from the conference room.
"I SWEAR TO GOD JEFFERSON, IF YOU TELL HER –"
"CALM DOWN, ALRIGHT? I DIDN'T EVEN LEAK THE LETTERS! IT WAS BURR! YOU KNOW HOW HE IS, ALWAYS SNOOPING AROUND AND POKING HIS NOSE WHERE IT DOESN'T BELONG –"
"I'LL DEAL WITH HIM LATER! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO TOLD HIM WHERE THEY WERE, AND YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S GONNA PAY! SO FIGHT ME!"
"FIGHT YOU? DUDE, LOOK AT YOUR SIZE! WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO, KICK MY ANKLE?!"
Washington slammed open the conference room door just in time to see Hamilton kick Jefferson really hard on the ankle.
"OW!"
"What the hell is going on here?!" Washington demanded.
At his icy tone, Hamilton immediately scrambled off of Jefferson and retreated into the farthest corner of the room. Jefferson clambered to his feet from his position on the floor, rubbing his ankle and glaring at Hamilton.
"Well?" said Washington.
Neither of them said a word. Hamilton fidgeted uncomfortably with his sleeve, while Jefferson was looking at everything but Washington.
The President sighed. It was clear he was getting nowhere with this. "To your desks – now," he said wearily. "I have an announcement to make."
His two most infernal Cabinet members followed him out into the corridor, and went obediently to their workspaces. Madison, Lafayette, and a few others looked up and gave them quizzical looks.
Washington cleared his throat. "Attention, everyone."
This time, they all looked up.
"It has come to my notice that this afternoon I'll be out attending," – Washington glanced down at the many papers he held in his hands – "93 meetings. Because apparently, every time anyone called and requested a meeting with me, someone – ahem, Hamilton – just went ahead and scheduled it for March 31st, instead of spacing it evenly throughout the month like any normal person would do. Why is that, Hamilton?"
Everyone in the office turned to look at Hamilton, who seemed to be shrinking further down into his seat with each passing second.
"Um, because I didn't think March 31st existed," he mumbled.
"Precisely," said Washington. "And now, because my top aide failed at the one simple task I gave him, I will be fully booked for the next two weeks. Thank you, Hamilton."
Hamilton's cheeks went very red.
"Now, I expect each and every one of you to be on your best behavior while I'm gone, as I have left a very special person to be in charge of this place." Washington beckoned to someone behind him, and a man stepped forward, dressed in full military uniform with a face and powdered wig that vaguely resembled King George. "Introducing, Major General Charles Lee of the Continental Army."
Lee smiled and waved at them. "Hi, guys!" he said enthusiastically.
Washington nodded, apparently satisfied with his appointee's excitement. "I'll leave you to it," he said, and left the room.
"Okay, let's get started!" said Lee, once Washington had gone. "I want to know all of your names. Let's start with," – his eyes fell upon Hamilton, who had stopped paying attention when Washington left and was now writing furiously on a piece of parchment – "you, ginger."
Jefferson giggled. Hamilton looked up.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
Hamilton crossed his arms, clearly unhappy at the slight to his hair. "My name is Alexander Hamilton," he said, eyeing Lee warily.
"And there's a million things he hasn't done," someone added from the far corner of the room. "Also, he and Jefferson hate each other."
"Jefferson?" Lee asked. He looked around.
"Me," said Jefferson.
"Ah." Lee nodded knowingly. "I see. Well, I have a solution for that." He beckoned for Jefferson to come closer. "Jefferson, you switch places with – um, what's your name?"
"Burr."
"Jefferson, you switch places with Burr, so you can sit next to Hamilton, and that way you guys can –"
"I'm sorry, WHAT?" Hamilton and Jefferson said at the same time.
"That way you guys can get over your differences," Lee said.
Hamilton and Jefferson looked from each other to Lee and back again, utterly horrified.
"Whoa, whoa, hold up," said Hamilton. "I really don't think that's necessary. I mean, we're all grown men here. I think we're fully capable of 'getting over our differences' from afar."
"Yeah," said Jefferson, for once agreeing with him. "We're not schoolchildren."
Someone let out a derisive snort.
"Come on now," Lee said impatiently. "We don't have all day."
Jefferson sighed. Motioning for Burr to get up, he switched places and sat directly beside Hamilton. Hamilton assumed an expression of utmost disgust and shifted as far away from him as possible.
"There," said Lee, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"
Hamilton and Jefferson glared at each other.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Burr muttered, watching them.
Surprisingly, Jefferson and Hamilton didn't argue with each other for the whole day. They didn't even talk. They just sat there, giving the occasional murderous glance and then returning to their work.
It was strange to think that Charles Lee could control them better than the President of the United States could, but no one was complaining. Whatever worked, they supposed.
Everything was all peace and quiet until…
"OHMYGOD!"
They looked up. One unfortunate soul accidentally knocked over his inkpot, spilling ink all over his paper.
"Dammit!"
Everyone was wondering what the hell was going on when suddenly they saw Charles Lee run out of Washington's study, screaming like a girl,
"WASP! IT'S A WASP! IT'S GOING TO KILL US ALL!"
Then there was chaos. Everyone in the office started screaming and running around. Poor John Jay ran right into the wall and was out like a light; John Adams raced to the bathroom and locked himself in; and Thomas Paine dove behind his ever-present pile of books, hiding as if he were a fugitive from King George's redcoat army. The only people who weren't going crazy were Hamilton, Jefferson, Madison, and Burr.
"Calm down!" Madison was saying, trying to establish some order in the crowd. "It's just a teeny-tiny wasp, it's nothing to be afraid of –" He was cut off as John Barker Church, who was making his way toward the exit, accidentally slammed into him, causing him to lose his footing and fall to the ground.
"EVERYBODY SHUT UP," Hamilton yelled in his loudest military voice.
The office went silent. Madison threw his hands up in a "are you kidding me" gesture.
Hamilton went to his desk and picked up his (predictably) empty coffee mug. Then he walked to the door of Washington's study. Opening it, he said, "I'm gonna go kill the wasp. Anyone want to come with?"
No one was brave enough to respond.
Hamilton rolled his eyes, and entered the study.
Five minutes later, they heard a bang and a yell, and Hamilton exclaimed, "Ow! Dammit!"
Burr rushed up to the window and peered through it to see what was going on. "What happened?"
"The stupid thing stung me! Ouch, that hurts…a little help, please?"
Burr looked back at the others. "Someone needs to go in there, and it's sure as hell not gonna be me," he said.
Jefferson gave an exaggerated-sounding groan. "Alright, I'll do it," he said. "Since you guys are just a bunch of spineless cowards." He shoved Burr out of the way as he went to the window. "Hey, Hamiltrash, I'm coming in."
"Okay well, hurry up!"
Jefferson went inside. Hamilton was standing by the desk, clutching at a big red welt on his hand. The coffee mug stood upside-down beside him.
"Is the wasp in there?" Jefferson asked.
Hamilton nodded.
"Okay. Be right back."
Jefferson went to the breakroom, opened the cabinet, and pulled out two more mugs. Then he went back to the study and put them on the desk next to the first one.
Hamilton's eyes widened. "Please no –"
An evil grin spread over Jefferson's face as he started shuffling the mugs.
"NO!" Hamilton cried. "Damn you!" He tried to push Jefferson back, away from the mugs, but it was too late. They were already rearranged. The wasp could be anywhere now.
"Now we don't know where it is!" Hamilton yelled. "Nice going, Jeffershit!"
Jefferson shrugged. "Oops," he said flatly.
Hamilton groaned and put a hand to his forehead, looking as if he were going to actually die from stress. Taking a deep breath, and mumbling what seemed to be a prayer toward heaven, he cautiously lifted one of the mugs, the one on the far right, off the desk.
The wasp flew out, buzzing viciously. Hamilton yanked off his shoe, intending to smash it, but not before it had swarmed around and stung him right in the face.
"ARGH!" Hamilton staggered backward and fell, covering his face with his hands. Jefferson quickly grabbed the shoe and went over to where the wasp had perched on a nearby shelf. Stretching up slightly on his toes, he angled his position and prepared to make the killing blow.
Fortunately, because of his tall height, he did not need to stretch far. Within seconds, he had raised his arm and brought the shoe down upon the wretched creature. It squirmed pitifully, but Jefferson twisted the shoe until it was no more. He then proceeded to smack it once or twice for good measure.
When he was done, he admired his work and dumped the wasp's corpse in the trash. His gaze then fell upon Hamilton, who was curled up on the floor in a fetal position. He still hadn't removed his hands from his face.
"Okay, Hamiltrash," said Jefferson. "I killed the wasp for you. Time to get up now."
Hamilton shook his head.
Jefferson rolled his eyes and forced Hamilton's hands away. What he saw made him immediately wish that he hadn't.
"Oh, shit," Jefferson said softly.
George Washington's eyes were livid as he surveyed the mess of toppled desks, spilled inkpots, and overturned chairs in the workroom. He was silent for a long moment, and Jefferson resisted the urge to shudder when he finally did speak.
"Now explain to me, Secretary Jefferson, why General Lee has vacated the premises and is nowhere to be found. And where on earth is Hamilton?"
Jefferson gulped. "With respect, sir," – he cleared his throat, for his voice sounded like an agitated frog's – "I've told you already. Lee ran for it as soon as he saw the wasp; he must have left the building in all the chaos. Hamilton went to the hospital because he got stung in the eye –"
Washington stared at him incredulously. "The eye?"
Jefferson nodded. "He was trying to kill it and it stung him right in the eyeball. It was pretty bad, his eyelid was flipped and the stinger was sticking out –"
"Spare me the details, please," Washington interrupted, holding up a hand. He sighed. "Are you sure you didn't just punch him? You two have been fighting an awful lot these days and I feel as if –"
"No, sir!" Jefferson said quickly. "Nothing like that. He really did get stung, maybe he'll show you when he gets back –"
"No, thank you. I have no desire to see a mutilated eyeball." Another sigh. "Very well, Mr. Jefferson. You are dismissed."
Grateful that he hadn't been given a worse reproach, Jefferson rushed off as fast as he could in the direction of the exit. Although the Virginian prided himself on not being afraid of his superiors, Washington could be an intimidating man.