Honest Abe's Ghost is haunted by the Tea-party

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Reports from the White house staff said that unknown objects somehow were being moved around the Lincoln bedroom. Lamps,and a TV appeared to be moved and then turned on. At first, they blamed Barbara Walters and her kleptomania.
Babs claimed they were just souvenirs she bought at the gift shop, although she never had a bag or receipt from the past incidents.

All previous Presidents looked the other way. The staff checked and found that Ms. Walter had been covering Kim Kardashian's latest plastic surgeries
and their dating schedule when the movements occurred. Could it be there was any truth to the Lincoln Ghost? This of course was being hushed up

Submitted: August 15, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 15, 2014







By: Mike Dietzel & Paula Erica Jobs



Reports from the White house staff said that unknown objects somehow were being moved around the Lincoln bedroom. Lamps,and a TV appeared to be moved and then turned on. At first, they blamed Barbara Walters and her kleptomania. Babs claimed they were just souvenirs she bought at the gift shop, although she never had a bag or receipt from the past incidents.

All previous Presidents looked the other way. The staff checked and found that Ms. Walter had been covering Kim Kardashian's latest plastic surgeriesand their dating schedule when the movements occurred. Could it be there was any truth to the Lincoln Ghost? This of course was being hushed up by the government, but seeing Lincoln floating around Washington was not something that was not unheard of.

Going back to the First Lady Grace Coolridge actually seeing the ghost and even bucktoothed Eleanor felt Abe's presence to the night Margaret Truman peed in her pants when Abe started complaining about her singing. Even in more Modern times LBJ's daughter actually spoke to the ghost, but decided to keep the talks secret for a later possible book deal.

Abe was now up and about again. It happened when he started hearing his name on that new fangled device the moving picture box that had been left on. The Lincoln bedroom was cool, and a fog appeared on the windows, as the blue image of Abe reappeared to look at the TV that was left on. It was near Christmas of the year 2012 and President Obama had been taking a nap in the room to recover from another stalled negotiation on the fiscal cliff. Abe sighed as he saw the Potus suffering with headaches as the rebels were trying to remove him from office. Abe wanted to tell the President that

“It must be the remaining relatives of Jeff Davis stirring more madness.”

After watching the new President sneak a smoke, he decided that his talking may cause the President to think he was losing his marbles. As President Obama headed off to another useless meeting with the Orange man who Lincoln noted seemed to be wearing a strange new makeup, he wondered if this colorful sissified lavender politician named Boehner would allow this dark President to heal the union.

Abe watched a commercial for the Spielberg movie. He watched to see if his poor wife would not be made to look completely mad. Being a lawyer, he realized that his name was now a product, and he knew that they were going to make a killing on his name.

“Wait a minute, I should have changed my will, so that they couldn't keep on selling me as bale of cotton.” Abe stumbled around going from room to room grabbing food, petting the dog and searching for books and newspapers.The new Lincoln Movie trailer appeared in the break room of the staff, and he saw his image, and his wife's image looking better than he remembered. Abe now watched the Fox news that came on next and his big ugly jaw fell open.

“The Confederates must have their own TV station, since all they do is spew hatred of President.”

“That poor Negro President should take heed and suppress these treacherous traitors, even he has to suspend the writ of habeas corpus”

“All those men dead and we are still a house divided.”

Once the maid left, and Abe laid down and took a nab in his bedroom. His depression was back with a vengeful headache, and tiredness that crippled him many times in his life. The blues enveloped him. He was now back visiting the soldiers who had been wounded at the soldiers' home.The smells of the city, horse dung, mingled with the houses cooking the baked bread, meat bones being browned for soups filled his nostrils. Now he saw the cottage where he moved into to be closer to the reality of the war that had tested his will, soul, power against his depression.

The building held the wounded, the armless, the legless, and he gripped his top hat tighter.

Mary's voice shrieking and wailing voice broke the dream, as she was reliving the death of her sons.

Abe's ghost woke up from his slumber, and he shuddered. Now, is the time to get out of the White-house limbo. I have to get out of this damn terminal prison.  Can I lift this spirit out of this place, get back to Springfield and float around some fields instead of this hellish place, of problems, devils, ass kissers and lobbyists?

“I am going home. By god, I am going to get my spirit on a train headed toward Illinois.”

Atoms and the essence of Abe now floated him down the stairs the smoke like image of honest Abe floated past the staff who did not take notice. Bo the dog did bark and ran like he had seen the ex-president who startled him.

“Sorry Doggie, but got to get out of this place.”

As Abe left the gated prison of his past, he looked around and marveled at all the horseless carriages. He was surprised to see all these people walking and staring at a thin little device that they talked into.

Did all these Americans just leave some sort of asylum? He saw people almost get killed walking and talking while crossing the intersections into their thin rectangles. Abe noted that people no longer talked face to face .

Looking at his pocket watch, Abe noted it would take about thirty minutes to get to the train station.

“Hmm, maybe I was wrong about America?”

“I am flummoxed about all this talking to oneself.”

Abe made it to the Washington's union station which was lovely and elegant. He smiled that at least something seemed going right direction ascetically in America. Nothing seemed foreign for him to find the right train and since was a ghostly fog he could get on the train with no problem. Honest Abe enjoyed train travel not realizing that it was now considered the lowest forms of travel. His brain processed the old mode of train travel and didn't realize that the best mode of travel would have been a private jet. For a current politician or wanna be Presidential candidate the Jet even one owned by a rich lobbyist was like good ole Abe's horse.

The train itself was sleek, and made of what appeared to be from beer cans. Abe was intrigued but was used to Trains being plush and works of craftsman. He noticed the passengers get in line and start boarding the train set to go to Chicago.

His image floated next to a rather large lady carrying a shopping bag overflowing with blankets pillows, and junk food.

Abe had mingle with the people before, but this would be his first taste of the citizens of the 21st century.

Abe slides his ghostly imagine in an empty seat of the lounge car, while people of all shapes and brown, black and a few beige colored individuals got on board and hustled for the seats. Ironically, Abe the great emancipator of black folks spent little time with blacks in his life. It was a shock to see how the interior had no polish, or the class of the old Pullman days of train style and comfort. The seats were only comfortable for about one hour, along with stale air and the smells of the crowded masses huddled took Abe back to his days before the white house when he tried his hand at being a store owner.


As a Republican his record as a business owner was a dismal failure, Abe was no Mittens Romney that created empires with endless streams of money from tiny corporate mergers and chaotic looting of companies forced into bankruptcy. These Bankruptcies, unlike Abe's, somehow ended up in favor of Mittens and his blue suited men. Abe was a miserable business boneheaded failure,as he lost his shirt on his grocery store/ bar. Basically, Abe spent his days bullshitting,or  reading law books while his business partner piled up debts. Lincoln spent many of his days there sprawled out in the grass doing mathematical problems while his customers looked on in wonder. Trusting Abe's business partner Berry a minister's son was now drinking up what little profit they had.

The towns' folk noted: “Abe ain't much of a business man; he is doomed for failure.” In life, failures are not appreciated as learning methods. Being on this train, some noted as a failure with trains in America will teach Abe how little the working class gets for their monies.

If only Abe could have seen the new European trains, even the Chinese trains, he would have cried or laughed. Could he as president pushed for more efficient modes of transport?

Abe looked around and noted that these were working-class folks, more blacks than whites, clothes that were not fancy, but practical. He waited and waited for service, but sighed and nodded off. It was not unique, but certain people could actually see his image or ghost. People with open minds or with that childlike innocent had reported his image in the Whitehouse. “Hey mister, you look like that President.”

“Hey Mister!”

The teenage boy had started tugging at the image of Lincoln's sleeve. Abe snorted at the incessant jabbering and woke up. Looking to his immediate left Abe peered at the kid, a twelve year old boy who was the same size of the President, both tall and lanky. The teenager was named Malcolm Glover, a citizen and ancestor of the wrong side of the confederacy, the slave side.

“Hello, young man. Nice to meet you.”

“What is your name, sonny?”

Malcolm looked a little taken back by the friendly old gent dressed up for some sort of Halloween celebration.

“Malcolm, and yours.”

Abe, chuckled and replied with his normal Southern Illinois high pitched twang.

“If you promise not to go telling anybody, I will tell you my name.”

“Hmmm, ok, but what is it worth to you?”

“Ok, Kid it is worth a five dollars.”

“Ok sir, shoot!” “Ops!”

Malcolm had a business mind or a future politician. Abe chortle and slapped his knee.

“My name is Abraham Lincoln.”

“You may have heard of me?”

Malcolm laughed. “Uze, are just an actor. Abe was killed by that Booth guy, that pissed-off KKK actor.”

Abe winced and joked while replying to Malcolm.

“Yep! I don't remember that, but remember the play, when all of sudden I got blasting damn headache.”

“You know kid, the weird thing, I was happy that day, like a little bird taken out of his cage.”

“If I had known that day, was going to be so bad,I would have picked a new vice-president, as I made the mistake of picking Andrew Johnson, who turned out to be a drunken boob and Rebel sympathizer.”

“Hmm, Okay you are Abe Lincoln, I think your nuts, but give me my five dollars.”

“Well, son I am ghost, but an honest ghost. So here is your five dollars.”

Abe reaches in his vest pocket and pulls out his five dollar bill.

Malcolm takes the bill,and looks and it with wonder. “HOLD ON! Look this is a fake bill.”

“This is not American money.”

“Well, Malcolm it is Southern money, that maybe still worth something, may be even more than five


“I was honest, Malcolm, because I never said it was going to be Northern greenback. As a lawyer, I just stated it was going to be five dollars. I never stated that it was anything but five dollars, not the currency itself being from any state or country.”


Malcolm looks up at Abe in disgust while stating his contempt for feeling cheated.

“Honest Abe, my ass, you gave me squat.”

Abe laughed heartily at the teenager.

“I took the bill for history and as a souvenir kid,so it should be worth something.”

The kid's eyes light up. Unlike Abe, Malcolm was a born business man.

“Hmmm, You got me thinking Abe; I mean Mr. dead President.” Malcolm pulls out his ipad from his book bag and starts typing. Lincoln looked on with an innate curious smile.

“Hey Malcolm, what is that darn thing.”

“That strange looking thin book.”


“Oh, it's an iPad, a computer, phone and a status symbol.” “What's it do?” Abe loved inventions and building stuff, as even during the civil war. He built a rail system to connect east and west. Abe looked on to try to figure out what he mistook for as a writing tablet. “So it calculates things and lets you communicate with other people from far distances.” With a chuckle, Malcolm, replied.

“Most people just look for dirty pictures or chat with friends, but it can be used to educate and get information for maps, music.”

“So you can search for books and newspapers on that darn little box?”

Lincoln was intrigued. “Can I give it a try?”

“You know. Most people don't remember how I felt about building stuff.”

Malcolm handed the iPad over to Abe, who was stunned. The thin little box brought

a smile to Abe, who said. “Now how do I ask my question to it?”

“You can type in your question or ask it the question.”

Abe hunted and pecked on the keyboard, cussing on occasion when he made a typo.


“Well I will be damned, there it is.”

“Here is my patent for lifting boats from getting stuck on shoals.”

Abe ugly mug smiled broadly, as he showed Malcolm a picture of his patent.

“You see Malcolm the tubes on the side would be inflated when the craft was stuck, and tubes would raise the ship up without having to unload the ship's cargo.”

Malcolm looked trying to figure out how the device worked.

“See Malcolm this is my patent number.”

The registered patent No. 6,469

Be it known that I, Abraham Lincoln, of Springfield, in the county of Sangamon, in the state of Illinois, have invented a new and improved manner of combining adjustable buoyant air chambers with a steam boat or other vessel for the purpose of enabling their draught of water to be readily lessened to enable them to pass over bars, or through shallow water, without discharging their cargoes;[8]

“You know President Lincoln you are the only President to hold a patent.”

“ It now seemed to hold the future boldly, that maybe this computer was fortuitous for the world.”

Abe scanned the train and noticed that the passengers had milled about and were getting grumpy and antsy.Pulling out his pocket watch,which said that they had been traveling for one hour.

Now confused by the wonders of the computer, Abe had thought that the train was moving faster than reality.

“Malcolm, we should be in Chicago shortly?”

“You are funny, Abe; we have twenty-four more hours to go.” Malcolm laughed as

Abe sat stunned.

“But isn't this train moving faster than trains of my generation?”

Malcolm sadly, needed the train with no driver's license, but realized that it was about as hip as an

eight-track player for one's tunes.

“Well, sometimes, but we are on Amtrak, so we move at the speed of government.”

Abe sighed and replied with his usual humor,“with the tea-party that means that our speed is currently the speed of a dead snapping turtle.”

The dead ex-president couldn't help but flash back to his time when he earned money in representing the wonders of industry, the Railroad companies, the face-book of their time.

“Holy Jeff Davis, Malcolm, I was a lawyer for the railroads, the Illinois Central, that is how I made my money.”

“I would have been dead broke again wouldn't I, son?”

Malcolm chuckled. “Sorry Abe trains are now lame.” “ You would have to change and become a

divorce attorney, as that has never gone out of fashion.”

Lincoln slapped Malcolm's knee, “ you are quite a cut-up and smart young man.”

“Well, I have mixed feelings since the Illinois Central tried to cheat me out of my fees.”

“You know Malcolm; I had to sue them to collect my money, even though I saved them a boatload of money on getting them free from paying local taxes.”

The McLean County case also is well known because Lincoln had to sue the railroad to get his then unheard-of fee of $5,000.

It is not entirely clear why the railroad delayed payment, though it is known that Lincoln brought suit before McLean County Circuit Court, and case was heard for a last time in June 1857. The court ruled in Lincoln's favor, and he received $4,800, less the $200 retainer. In today's dollars, that $5,000 paycheck would be worth some $110,000.

It was the highest legal fee Lincoln received in his two-plus decades before the bench.

Just as Malcolm looked up the case, he lost his wi-fi connection, and the train slowed down to a crawl. The passengers were now becoming an angry mob. Lincoln noted the drunks coming from the bar chuckling, “Andrew Jackson or Andrew Johnson's ghost must also be on this train.”

“Hey, Malcolm did you know that my Vicepresident showed up drunk during my second inaugural.” Malcolm checked his wi-fi connection and reconnected. “You know; most Vice-presidents really end up disappearing into the fog of history.” “Being Vice-president isn't worth a warm bucket of spit.” Abe noted as a drunken man fell into his ghostly lap. “Sorry, sir.” The drunk pushed himself up and tried to walk back into the front of the car.


“I am hungry Abe. Do you want a hot dog? Mr. President.” Malcolm said this not knowing if ghosts eat.

“Thank you, Malcolm and I am famished.”

“I would like some nuts and crackers or maybe a slice of apple pie.” Malcolm laughed. “I have been on this train before, so I will treat you to what most Americans eat in the twenty first century eat, it is called Junk food.” “Junk Food?”

“Malcolm that doesn't sound good unless you are feeding pigs?”

“Welcome to the new America, Mr. President.” Malcolm laughed while replying to this old guys lack of knowledge.

Abe waited and glanced around the passengers were eating drinking, grousing, and laughing took his mind back to his store, but it was all different, the food itself was not in form of his reality. Most of the people were eating out of transparent bags with logos stuck everywhere. The glowing food orange worm shaped crisps and large cups of brown liquid were making Abe wonder if human's physiology had changed. Do humans now eat different foods for bigger brains.

What happen to apples and nuts his favorite and portable snacks? Is this science?

Did we lose the apple tree or is there a plague that prevents vegetables from being consumed?

The train slowed down and bumped, chug a dump, through the night, as Malcolm carried back a two cans of the Pop from Atlanta, and two infamous hot-dogs wrapped in napkins, potato chips. Abe looked on waiting to see a food he recognized, then he remember he had seen those weird objects before. Those tubes on a bun. “Thank you, Malcolm for the dinner.”

“Well, Abe I bet you never had one of these. Abe chuckled and crackled. Now Abe remembered when he has walked around years ago.

He was shocked to find the British back in the White-house; but was pleased they were not trying to burn the place to the ground this time. “Malcolm I remember when that crippled President had English Royalty in the White-house and fed them those darn things for lunch. I tried the leftovers, but I seem to agree with the Queen, who fed hers to the President's dog, when no one was looking.”

“Not to offend you, but I will give it another try.” Abe took a bite and chewed with almost a look of disgust.” “It sure is a salty meat, let me try that beverage.” Malcolm handed the can of Pop to Abe, who took a swig, surprised by the metal can and was overwhelmed by it's sweetness and bubbly nature of the liquid.

“Strange, Malcolm the American diet is made up of salt and sugar, plus some sort bear grease that makes the food go down faster.” Malcolm laughed, “So you are not impressed with our modern food treats. Well, the only thing worse in my day, was Hardtack, but I would rather have just food that is made by nature.”

Abe looked out the window, then looked at his pocket watch. “Aren't we in Chicago, yet?”

“Abe we have twenty more hours to go.”

Malcolm laughed as it reminded him of when he was a kid riding in the car saying. “ARE WE


“You are joking right?”

Disappointed for his country and traveling in what now would be third class now plagued the

long-dead President, as the train ride seemed to go on forever, like a bad meeting in the White-house.

Malcolm and Abe both fell asleep.



The booming message from the PA woke up Malcolm.

“I am going for walk Malcolm; I feel if I am still stuck in that coffin.”

He unfolded his long legs and started his ramble. Some people saw him, but he had removed his hat, tie to blend in. To some he was just another strange hillbilly looking man with a bad beard and a bad haircut.

He strolled and spied on the new Americans, were they up to the task of fulfilling his dreams of true Union. Abe noticed that in way it the train was more integrated then in his time. Although he perceived that Black Folks sat with Black Folks and whites stayed with their beige brothers, with some slight intermingled with the younger people never minding the hue of their neighbors. Abe was shocked to see Mexicans working in the bar area emptying trash and washing dishes from the dining car,as he was against the war against Mexico and was wondering what their status was? Victims of a new version of slavery?

In the lounge car, he noticed a picture box on with images of some sort of political debate. Abe was a political junkie that loved debates so he found an empty seat, sitting down gingerly.

People had been mulling around and drinking. Ironically, Abe a tea-teetotaler didn't touch the stuff even in his most stressful times.

Abe listened carefully as a politician on the boob tube denounced the colored President and talked about succession. “My god, nothing ever changes.”

“Those southerns are such a pain in the ass once again.”

It was a Fox news special which caused Abe to stop with his ghostly mouth sprung wide open.

A rally of the new Tea-party with their signs was displayed with arrogant beliefs and spelling error galore befuddled Abe to point of wondering if it had been worth all his time effort to save the Union. Not only was America's train travel a slow nightmare, but all the tea-party signs had such glaring spelling errors and illogical complaints that Abe wondered what happened to the miracle of America and democracy.

Abe wondered if there was no longer any public education left in America. Abe also noticed the same damn theme from his days in the white-house; they wanted to secede from the Union. Although Abe was self-taught,he was amazed how illiterate the public had become. Spelling must be out of vogue. Abe mumbled to himself: “It looks like you can fool most of the people all the time.”

Depressed now, Abe walked back to Malcolm, who had fallen back to sleep. The train moved slowly down the track. Twenty hours later they made it to Chicago.

“Hey Abe, we made it.” “Chicago the windy City, home of deep dish pizza and the Cubbies.”

“Thanks Malcolm, it was very nice meeting you,and I hope things go great for you.

I am sorry to tell you this son, but it looks like the Union might not hold up again, but you have my prayers for a good future.”

“Thank you, Mr. President. I hope your journey back to Springfield helps you. I know that Washington DC is certainly a mess.”

“Yes, Malcolm it reminds me of the bad ole days.”

“Malcolm, would mind trading with me that coat of yours and a sports shirt for my old coat and shirt, since I tired of wearing these same clothes from all those years ago. You and me are about the same height and weight.”

Malcolm wasn't actually enthralled with losing his clothes, but he did realize that he would be getting a piece of history. Plus, Abe was President. (Plus, he figured that Abe's clothes could fund his college fund, if auctioned them off.)

They swapped shirts and jackets without anybody even blinking, as the Amtrak train passengers' thoughts of privacy and etiquette went out the window along while ago. Malcolm got up to go to the bathroom and took his phone with the built in camera.ABESGHOSTBOOKSIE.jpg

What a strange trip this was.

Nobody would believe him, but if had a picture,maybe this ghost story could be vindicated. All the cat calls and punches he would get for telling what appeared to one of those shaggy dog stories would be put to rest.

As Malcolm came back to his seat, he noticed the ghost President lost in his depressed thoughts.

He lined up his shot and prayed that the image would be captured. Bingo! There it is:

Now both Malcolm and the ghostly Abe got up and headed for the exit. Malcolm had instructed honest Abe on how to get the Bus to Springfield and Abe took out a piece of paper and left Malcolm a thank you note.

“Malcolm, you helped me find out the truth and made my journey back home, a pleasant and wondrous experience, with the exclusion of those inedible things you call hot-dogs.”


Abraham Lincoln.”



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