I start to freak out, but then I realize that between Tyler and FDR, pretty much the only sure bets are Lincoln and Teddy Roosevelt.
Then there are guys like Grant and Coolidge—not guaranteed to stay, but definitely more likely than me—and if we’re really being rigorous, we can probably throw Wilson in that category too. Hoover and Buchanan might squeak in, just on account of how bad they were, and people love hearing about how Garfield and McKinley got shot.
So that leaves only eleven presidents, including me. Could I be a bigger draw than ten of them? I make a list and I run through them over and over:
Polk
Taylor
Fillmore
Pierce
A. Johnson
Hayes
Cleveland
B. Harrison
Taft
Harding
These are the guys I’ve gotta beat. Tough, but definitely doable. Most of them probably don’t even realize they’re on the chopping block, and if any of them do, they might figure—like Harrison did—well, what’s the point in trying if I’m already getting sacked?
* * *
—
Next day, I show up on time and ready to work. From my angle on things, I’m thinking I need a three-pronged approach here.
The first prong is all about projecting an air of professionalism and respect in front of Mr. Gupta. Good morning, Mr. Gupta, I’m like. It’s a beautiful day to educate our guests about presidential history, I’m like.
The second prong is about driving up interest in Chester A. Arthur with park visitors. There’s only so much I can do on this front, because most people aren’t starting their day thinking, Boy, I can’t wait to meet Chet Arthur and possibly buy some Chet Arthur–related merchandise. But the truth is I can leverage what I know about how the park functions to my advantage here. Like, for example, Teddy Roosevelt is always complaining that he gets slammed in the afternoons, right around one, because that’s when mini-Rushmore opens, but Lincoln doesn’t show up until after the Emancipation Celebration, and now that Washington and Jefferson have been replaced by a barely sentient drooling man-wall who needs to remain tied to his post—for the safety of the children—well, it creates a lot of work for Teddy Roosevelt.
Roosevelt already sort of likes me, as it happens, because one time he saw me riding my bike to work before it got stolen, and then for like a week, whenever he saw me on the other side of the Bridge to a Better Tomorrow, he would shout, Hey! Bike! And I’d be like, Yeah! You said it!
So it isn’t hard to start a conversation with him now where I’m like, Hey, man, I think I can help with your one o’clock crunch. I’m barely doing anything at one—like my area completely empties out—so if you send people my way, I can totally handle them.
And he’s like, Sure, but how am I gonna do that?
Here’s what you gotta do. You gotta tell people: Used to be, only way to get ahead in politics was through crooked dealings. Myself, I’m a mad respectable individual, but I never would have been president if not for the Pendleton Reform Act. And when people say, What’s the Pendleton Reform Act? you say: Why don’t you go ask Chester A. Arthur?
And he’s like, Is that true? About me not being president if not for the whatever whatever act you just said?
And I’m like, Look, man, there’s no way to know for sure what would have happened without the Pendleton Reform Act—time is a many-forked river that flows in one direction only—but we do know that there was a reform act passed, and then years later you became president. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say those two things are definitely related.
And he’s like, All right, well, at this point, I’ll try anything.
Great. So say all that, and then if people are still on the fence, you can say: Perhaps no one changed the course of U.S. presidential history more than Chester A. Arthur.
And he’s like, Yeah, I’m not going to say that.
And I’m like, Yeah, that part’s too much, but the rest of it?
And he’s like, Yeah, the rest of it, fine.
The third prong of my plan—and this is the prong I feel not so hot about—is throwing some of those other guys under the bus. We have these anonymous Ask Not What Your Country Can Do for You cards that we’re supposed to fill out to report other employees when we witness violations of park policy. Everyone treats them like a big joke, but the truth is there are a lot of violations that happen every day. Like, for example, everyone knows Hayes is vaping in the park, even though the park has a strict no vaping policy. I fill out an Ask Not What Your Country Can Do for You card about Hayes vaping, and that night, Mr. Gupta calls him into his office.
I feel gross about this on the one hand, because like is Hayes really hurting anybody by sneaking vapes? And is Pierce really hurting anyone through his repeated Use of Anachronistic References, which I also write a card about? Or what about Fillmore letting three kids go at once on Fillmore’s Flume, even though Fillmore’s Flume is expressly designed to be enjoyed by two Friends of Fillmore at a time? But on the other hand, park policy is clear, and it’s every man for himself out there, and I’m not just looking out for me at this point—I’ve got people depending on me—and if other presidents are going to leave themselves vulnerable by making stupid mistakes, then maybe they don’t deserve to be presidents in the first place.
The one guy I don’t write up is Benjamin Harrison, even though he definitely breaks park policy all the time, like when I see him talk to guests about his sword collection, and it’s unclear if actual Benjamin Harrison had a sword collection or if he’s just talking about himself. But he’s always been regular decent to me, and I feel like loyalty has to be good for something in this cutthroat world, because otherwise what are we even doing?
So like after a week of my three-pronged approach, Mr. Gupta calls me into his office. I’ve been really impressed by how you’ve been performing lately, he’s like.
And I’m like, Just doing my job.
And he’s like, The guys at corporate are really impressed too. There’s been an uptick in sales of Arthur merch. I want you to know that the right people are noticing.
And I’m like, That’s really great to hear, sir.
You treat me with respect, he’s like. You treat this job with respect. Not everybody does that.
And I’m like, No?
He’s like, I know everyone wants to have a good time, but this is a job, and people need to recognize that.
Oh totally. That’s always been my thing, one hundred percent, it being a job and all.
It’s not like I like being the bad guy, he goes. I know everyone thinks I’m a hard-ass, but I’m getting pressure from all sides, you know?
And I go, Yeah, I know what you mean.
And he goes, Okay, well, keep it up.
On the bus ride home I think about Mr. Gupta for the first time not just as a boss, but also as a person who exists and has feelings. I wonder if when he was hired to run the park, he realized what a bunch of assholes all the presidents were going to be. I know that by doing a good job I’m making his life easier—and even though making Mr. Gupta’s life easier is not why I do a good job, I’m not mad at that part of it. It also feels nice to know that my efforts have been noticed, because so much of the time the lesson of life is that everything’s built on bullshit and nothing you do matters. It’s cool to feel like I have some control over my own destiny for once, especially because Ramona’s condition has taken a turn for the worse and she has to spend a couple days in the hospital, for observation and possibly another surgery.
* * *
—
The next day I feel motivated to go in early, just to keep up my streak of going above and beyond—and also because without Ramona in the apartment, it turns out my apartment is a real bummer. I catch the first bus before it even ge
ts light out, and when I show up at the park, the only people there are Amir in Security and Emika.
You’re here early, she’s like.
And I’m like, Yeah, sorry. I know you like to be alone in the mornings.
And she’s like, This is perfect actually, because I want you to meet someone. Remember when I told you I was in love?
And now I’m really regretting coming in early, because I can already tell this is going to be a whole thing.
She takes me to the Extra Office Where No One’s Allowed, and I’m like, Emika, I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to be back here.
And she’s like, It’s fine, no one will know; I do this every day.
In the corner, chained to a wall, is Waj’m Maj’vht, glaring menacingly, breathing heavily.
Hi, baby, Emika’s like, and Waj’m Maj’vht continues to do his thing, which is sitting on the ground, chained to the wall, glaring menacingly and breathing heavily.
I’m like, This is the guy you’re in love with?
Emika smiles. You see it, right?
Waj’m grunts: Prolonged conflagration…self-evident…Abigail!
He curls into a squat and starts whittling a stick.
And I’m like, Don’t take this the wrong way, and I’m not always the best judge of character, but he kind of seems like a wild monster.
He’s not a monster! I love him. I feed him whole onions that he eats like an apple.
And now I’m thinking, If this is the kind of guy Emika is into, then I really never stood a chance with her.
And Emika’s like, I know it’s hard to understand. I was afraid of him at first too, but he’s really a gentle soul, and he has the heart of ten men. Isn’t that right, Waj’m?
Waj’m looks up at us and grunts: Abuse of liberty is the bone and sinew, Abigail!
Emika goes, That’s right, Waj’m.
And I go, You know, we’re really not supposed to be in this room. We could get in big trouble.
And for some reason, Emika starts crying and is like, He knows he doesn’t belong here, but it’s not his fault he exists. He’s not the one who made him in a lab.
And the most fucked-up part is now I love Emika more than ever, seeing how worked up she gets over this other guy, who isn’t even really a guy, hardly, as much as a weird deformed historical mishmash. I want to hold her and stroke her hair and tell her everything’s going to be okay, but we are at work, after all, and the park staff behavioral guidelines are very clear on appropriate and inappropriate touch ever since Eisenhower goosed the girl at the deep-fried Oreo stand.
Just do me a favor, Emika’s like. Look into his eyes and tell me you don’t see what I see.
I look into his eyes and I see love. I see hate and anger. I see revolution and honor and dishonor all at once.
And I go, Okay, yeah, he seems like a cool guy.
He vomits into a bucket.
I’m scared, she’s like. The white lady keeps talking about this new mega-president they’re building. Bigger. Smarter. Better. When that new guy’s ready, what’s going to happen to Waj’m?
And I’m like, I’m sure there’s a plan.
And she’s like, Yeah, the plan is they’re going to kill him.
You don’t know that.
She starts shaking: I do know that. They’re going to kill him. We need to do something, we can’t just let them…
And seeing her all agitated like that is making the monster agitated, and he starts shaking and growling menacingly.
And I’m like, Emika, you need to calm down. I take a step toward her and Waj’m full-on freaks out, roaring and yanking on his chain, face all red.
TYRANNY AND OPPRESSION, ABIGAIL, he’s like.
What the fuck? I’m like.
Emika goes, It’s okay, Waj’m. Shh. It’s okay. I’m safe; you’re safe.
And Waj’m whimpers softly.
See, Emika says. He wants to protect me. That’s what love is. And we need to protect him.
And I’m like, Why we? I got enough problems just trying to hold on to my job. Why do I have to be involved with this part of it?
And she’s like, Because you have a good heart.
And I’m like, Yeah, I don’t know about that. I definitely don’t have the heart of ten men.
And she goes, No, but maybe two or three men.
And she smiles through her tears, and I think, How could I say no to that face?
You look really beautiful, I’m like.
I cringe as soon as I say it, because “You look really beautiful” is one of the things you’re not supposed to say to your coworkers as outlined in the park staff behavioral guidelines, and also, just in general, that’s a pretty dumb thing to say to a girl as she’s telling you how much she loves another man—no, ten men in one man’s body.
But Emika smiles at me, and she’s like, Of course I do. I’m in love.
So I’m like, Well, let’s see what happens, but just in the meantime, don’t do anything crazy, right?
And she’s like, Yeah, no, of course.
* * *
—
Mr. Gupta calls me into his office during my lunch break. White lady from the Frank and Felicity Fielding Foundation is there too, all smiles.
This is good news, he’s like. We’re very happy with the work you’ve been doing with Chester A. Arthur.
And I’m like, That is good news. Thank you!
And he’s like, Yeah. But we’re discontinuing the character.
What?! Why? How are people going to learn about the Pendleton Reform Act?!
And the white lady smiles and says, FieldingCorp is building a new hybrid president. We’re about a week away from completion.
Mr. Gupta goes, When the new hybrid comes in, we’re going to transition you to a new role. We were thinking…Jimmy Carter?
So now I’m thinking, Hot shit, I’ve hit the big time. But also, I did not realize that the new president-monster was going to be done so quickly. That is not great for the current president-monster, and any women who happen to be in love with him.
And Mr. Gupta’s like, By the way, please don’t tell anyone about the conversation we had in here. This information is obviously very delicate.
And I’m like, Oh, totally, yeah.
* * *
—
That night, I go to visit Ramona in the hospital, and I tell her the whole story.
I feel like Emika’s about to do something rash, I’m like, but her heart is so pure and good.
And Ramona’s like, Yeah, I don’t know, this chick sounds crazy. I think you just got the hots for her.
And I’m like, Maybe…but what if she’s right and Waj’m’s in real danger?
And Ramona’s like, Yeah, that’s a good point, I didn’t think about that. Okay, do what the hot chick says.
But on the other hand, Mr. Gupta’s a good guy too, and it feels shitty to lie to him, especially since now he’s giving me this promotion.
And Ramona goes, Yeah, this is what the guy at the deli counter calls a real pickle. Oh, I know what you should do!
What?
And she goes, Just think—who’s your guy again?
And I go, Well, Chester A. Arthur for now, but next week they’re moving me over to Jimmy Carter.
And she goes, Wow, okay. So just think—what would Chester A. Arthur and/or Jimmy Carter do?
How the fuck should I know? They never had to deal with this bullshit.
Okay, I’m going to go to sleep—I think they’re going to do surgery on me again in the morning.
And I’m like, Again? Why?
And she’s like, I don’t know, I’ve lost track. Maybe last time one of the surgeons left her engagement ring inside me, so now she’s hoping to get it back. Anyway, let me know how your t
hing all shakes out, okay?
I think about Ramona’s advice. The truth is, if Chester A. Arthur ever found himself in this situation, I think he would probably suck up to the higher authority and tell Mr. Gupta that Emika’s been having a secret affair with the mutant creature chained up in the white lady’s office. Chester A. Arthur was always doing shit like that—I mean, not exactly like that, but similar.
On the other hand, Jimmy Carter seems like a softie and I feel like he would probably protect his friend’s secret, so I guess if I’m going to be Jimmy Carter, I should probably do it the Jimmy Carter way.
* * *
—
Next day, I show up to work and the police are there.
What’s going on? I’m like.
And Benjamin Harrison’s like, Waj’m flew the coop.
And I’m like, No shit?
Harrison goes, Amir showed up this morning, and Miguel was totally out of it. They think he got roofied. The whole thing’s pretty hilarious.
Why’s it hilarious? I’m like.
And he’s all, ’Cause the park was working good before all these big-money tech people started playing God. Serves ’em right. You can’t replace real people with artificial people.
And I’m all, Tell that to your extra-large fuck-doll.
And he goes, That’s a completely different thing and you know it.
Everyone gets called in for meetings with Mr. Gupta and the white lady, one at a time.
Do you know anything? Mr. Gupta’s like.
And I’m like, I never know anything about anything.
The white lady leans in, like, You understand that was company property, right? That hybrid is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.
And I’m like, Really got your money’s worth, huh?
Someone Who Will Love You in All Your Damaged Glory Page 20