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Six Founding Fathers and a scribe go into a bar

Rob Larrikin

Thunderstrzok
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Scene: Washington, 18th C., Six Founding Fathers and a scribe in bar

Adams: What we need to include is the right for all men to have a broom.
Franklin: A broom?
Jefferson: Why a broom?
Madison: Adams, what are you going on about man?
Scribe: [scratches quill on sheet of paper. Has another beer. Belches.]
Adams: Brooms are vital. If they were ever banned, how would people clean?
Washington: That is nonsense.
Hamilton: Why would anyone want to ban them?
Adams: You never know.
Franklin: Seriously Adams, are you joking?
Hamilton: He must be.
Adams: All right then, how about doors?
Jefferson: Doors? You want the right for all men to have doors?
Scribe: [scratches out first sentence; starts a new one. Has another beer. Belches.]
Madison: Ha, now I know he’s joking.
Adams: I’m serious! If doors are ever banned it will be very bad for people.
Washington: Adams, are you alright? [feels Adam’s forehead]
Adams: Get your hands off me sir! [brushes Washington’s hand away]
Franklin: Steady there Adams – that’s my ale.
Jefferson: Nobody is going to ban doors Adams. Nobody. Ever. Is that clear?
Adams: Then how about…
Madison: Oh not another!
Washington: Enough man!
Adams: …muskets!
All together: Oh shut up Adams!
Hamilton: Really man, what is wrong with you?
Scribe: [scratches out second sentence; starts a new one. Has another beer. Belches.]
Adams: What if private muskets are banned by a tyrant? How will private people survive?
Franklin: Nobody’s going to ban muskets Adams. Why would a tyrant do that?
Hamilton: After all, who would he tyrannize when everyone was dead?
Jefferson: Dead?
Hamilton: Well without their muskets people would starve, be killed by Indians, bears, mountain lions and wolves.
Madison: Not to mention robbers and highwaymen.
Washington: Yes Adams, who would the tyrant tyrannize when everyone was dead?
Adams: Surely not everyone would die…
Franklin: Okay, so there’d be a few left, but the tyrant would get hardly any taxes. That would be a brilliant plan!
All together: [Roar with laughter]
Jefferson: No, sorry Adams, it wouldn’t make any sense at all to ban private muskets.
Adams: Couldn’t we include the right for all men to have a musket, anyway? Just to humor me?
Madison: No. Absolutely not. The constitution is not a game, Adams!
Washington: We will be putting one in about the right to a Militia, won’t we Jefferson?
Jefferson: Indeed we will, George.
Washington: How will it go again?
Jefferson: I think it goes ‘A well regulated Militia, being necefsary to the security of a free State (the right of the people to keep and bear Arms), shall not be infringed.’
Scribe: [scratches out last sentence; starts a new one. He writes ‘A well regulated Militia, being necfesffsary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed’. Has another beer. Belches loudly.]
Washington: That’s a little confusing. Can you say that again?
Madison: Give me a turn. ‘A well regulated Militia, being necefsary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed’
Scribe: [screws up paper and starts new one, writing ‘A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.’ Has another beer. Falls asleep.]
Franklin: Let me have a look at that [snatches paper]. Hmm. I guess that will do.
Hamilton: Where are you glasses Franklin?
Franklin: I left them at home.
Jefferson: Aren’t you blind without them?
Franklin: Whatever. I’ll get my scribe to write this up and send it over to you Madison.
Madison: Thanks Ben – I’ll have my scribe re-write it for Jefferson and Hamilton.
Washington: How is your scribe these days, Ben?
Franklin: Not the best. He’s got syphilis, poor man. Almost blind, and has to drink two bottles of brandy a day to stave off the pain of his toothache.
Hamilton: Why doesn’t he get the tooth pulled out?
Adams: He’s afraid of dentists. Would rather suffer, poor bastard.
Madison: Ah hell, he sounds like my scribe. 63 years old, fat as a whale, constantly farting and his feet are so filled with gout they look like beetroots.
Washington: At least he can see though.
Madison: Not since he got conjunctivitis. His eyes are in quite a state at the moment. They look like to pussholes in a pile of ****e.
Franklin: Still, the good Lord will look over us and make sure there are no mistakes.
Jefferson: That is certainly true, George.
Franklin: It’s Ben, Tom. Ben.
Jefferson: Isn’t what I said?
Franklin: No, you called me George, Tom.
Jefferson: Sorry Ben. It’s these new glasses damn it. They aren’t much good.
 
:inandout:
 
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