Hamilton | There's Nothing Like Summer In The City

The Lesbian, The European, And The Audacity Of Macaroni

10/10/2020, 11:23

324 Emerald Drive, [REDACTED], United States of America, Earth

"And so, in short, whatever your reality was like, this one is much worse. Unfortunately, to my knowledge, we have no way of sending you back, so you're stuck with me."

"That is unfortunate," Lafayette groaned.

"Shut up. Anyways, do you want a snack or should we move on to political theory?"

"Snack."

Ash laughed. "Cookies?"

"Absolutely."

"Chocolate chip or snickerdoodle?"

"I thought snickerdoodles were German, not American."

"Didn't I just tell you this?" Ash sighed. "We're American. We take everything."

This was, of course, an entirely true fact. My girlfriend has complained about it to me on more than one occasion.

America, as far as I can tell, is a useless piece of shit. I know at least five people who are thoroughly convinced that Broadway is the only good thing it's ever produced.

(Caroline is very vehement in the belief that Starbucks is a close second, but she doesn't come into this story yet, so we'll just ignore her.)

"Fair enough," Lafayette conceded, standing up. "Are you going to bake them?"

"Yeah, probably. Why?"

"You mentioned that as capitalism grows more controlling in America, more and more people buy things instead of making them."

"Oh my god," Ash gasped. "Wait, you actually listened to all of that? Most people don't do that! Listen to me, that is."

Lafayette stared at Ash. "What the hell is your life like?"

"Very traumatic."

"That makes sense."

"Yeah. It usually does. So, um, get out the sugar. And cinnamon. And flour, eggs, milk-"

"Calm down. I'll get there, mon petit idiote."

"Connard."

"You speak French?" Lafayette shrieked, ignoring the fact that Ash had just called him an asshole.

"I speak a lot of things," Ash shrugged. "English, Russian, French, German, some Irish and Norwegian, and a bit of rough Scottish. Keeps me busy. There was a whole year where learning languages was all I hyperfocused on. Terrible for the CIA, fun for me."

"CIA?"

Ash tossed a spoon at him.

"Oh, right, right. Your caretakers."

"I prefer the term 'involuntary parental figures'. Mainly because my parents never gave a shit about me, and neither does the CIA."

"Christ, you are traumatized."

"Welcome to hell!" Ash sang.

"From the sound of America, I'd say we're already there."

And then-

crack

and Ash's world changed again, a bit for the worse.

"Fucking hell!" she screeched, jumping on top of the counter.

"What was that?"

"I don't know, you're tall, look out the window or something!"

Lafayette wandered to the window and peered out. "Mon dieu!"

"What?"

"It's Thomas!"

"Thomas who? Thomas Paine? Thomas Edison? Thomas Eliot? Thomas Moore? The apostle guy? Thomas Cromwell? Tom Holland? Tom Hiddleston? Tom Cruise?"

"Thomas Jefferson!" Lafayette laughed delightedly, clapping.

"No."

"What?"

"Get him off my property," Ash demanded.

"But-"

"No buts. I refuse to have a slaveowner on my property. Let alone that one in particular."

"Thomas wasn't a- oh. Right. Alternate history."

"Wait, hang on, is it Hamilton the Musical Jefferson or Historical Piece of Shit Jefferson?"

"The one who looks like me," Lafayette sighed. "Christ."

"Oh, okay, let him in," Ash agreed. "I'll just antagonize him more quietly."

"Why antagonize him at all?"

"Because fuck Thomas Jefferson."

"Mm, fair enough. How does the door open?"

"Turn the knob at the same time as you slide the latch." Ash hopped off the counter. "Otherwise it won't work."

Lafayette opened the door, and in came the man who would make our dearest protagonist's life a living hell.

Well, even more of a living hell than it generally was.

"Gilbert!"

"Thomas, mon ami, how have you been?"

"Where the fuck am I?" Jefferson demanded.

"Earth. 2020. I'm not going through the PowerPoint again until I'm certain no other annoying motherfuckers are gonna pop up. Just roll with the shit, okay?" Ash said, bursting into laughter at the sight of Jefferson's very disheveled bright magenta coat.

"Ash, are you-" Lafayette began.

"God, it's worse than I imagined."

"Earth?"

"No," Ash snorted. "The coat."

"My coat is perfectly fine!" Jefferson sniffed.

"Sir, I hate to inform you of this," Ash began, "but you dress like a millennial lesbian in an antique shop."

"A what?"

"Anyways," Lafayette intervened quickly, "Thomas, this is my new friend, and our host, Ash. Ash, this is-"

"I know who the fuckface is."

"Right, okay, then."

Jefferson stood awkwardly between Lafayette and Ash, who was still glaring at him.

"Er, well, I'm Thomas Jefferson," he said anyways, ignoring Lafayette's very drawn-out sigh. "Secretary of State-"

"And professional quiet bitch, I know," Ash deadpanned. "I'm Ash Jameson."

"You live here alone?"

"No, I have a dog somewhere. And there used to be an Alexa but I broke it."

"No husband or father?" Jefferson pressed.

"Jefferson, my dear sir, I would advise against angering me." Ash cracked a knuckle casually. "I will both destroy you in a debate and throw you through a window."

Lafayette nodded. "And I wouldn't test her debate skills if I were you."

"Well, at least Hamilton isn't here."

Jefferson, of course, would be proven wrong within the next half hour.

"Absolutely. Fuck Hamilton," Ash agreed, nodding wildly and tapping her foot.

"You dislike him?"

"Oh, I hate him. Almost as much as I hate historical you."

"What?"

"I'll explain later. Laf, are the cookies-"

"Shit," Lafayette gasped as the smell of burning cookies filled the air.

Jefferson laughed.

And outside the house, with a nearly imperceptible crack, King George Frederick William the Third appeared.

Welcome, one and all, to the shitshow that Jameson's life is about to become.