George Washington: General, President, Time Traveler, Asshole

The following entries are taken from a journal written by one of General George Washington’s soldiers during his time stationed at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania from December 19, 1777-June 19, 1778. What follows is a harrowing tale of one man’s descent into lunacy and some shocking revelations about one of the greatest military and political leaders of our nation's history.

December 19, 1777-My name is Nathaniel Patrick Jefferson, husband, father, patriot and a farrier by trade. I have been serving in the Continental Army under General George Washington for just shy of a year and have reluctantly arrived at the conclusion that the man is out of his fucking mind. Tactically, he’s brilliant and has yet to meet his equal in the field of battle. Personally, he’s a few troops short of a garrison. Kind of a dick, too. Many of the men, myself included, have marched so far and so hard that our shoes have all but worn through and our feet have taken to bleeding out upon the trail. Lord knows if the British wanted to track us they need only follow the tell-tale sets of bloody footprints. Washington keeps riding up alongside us on his horse, often shouting “Cold enough for you, boys?” He laughs every time, and it’s not even that funny. We laugh along with him, though, for fear that our refusal to do so might result in us being executed out of turn. It’s rumored that he once stabbed a man to death just for looking at his horse. And the horse…he talks to it all the time, as if the horse were able to hold polite conversation with him! No matter. Today we arrived at Valley Forge and can finally stop all this marching. It’ll be nice to sleep in a proper bed again.

December 21, 1777-Valley Forge is on some old bullshit. The cabins we’re quartered in do nothing to protect from the damp conditions and we’ve not enough rations to make it to the end of the year. Many of us have taken to eating “fire cake,” a disgusting mixture of flour and water. Many of the men are suffering from exposure and infection, their uniforms practically threadbare. The fires in the camp are burning, but the flames in our hearts have long since been extinguished. I wonder if this war is even worth it. The British aren’t so bad. At least they don’t do naked handstands in the snow like certain generals commanding the very unit I’m stationed here with.

December 31, 1777-While all the men gathered and attempted to celebrate the coming of the new year, General Washington was nowhere to be found. Myself and two other men, James from Virginia and Smith from New York, searched the camp for our leader. We found him naked and dancing around a fire, chanting incantations of some sort. He kept repeating the words “Cthulhu” and “R'lyeh,” and in the night sky a terror of indescribable nature began to spill forth-or at least it would’ve had James not cried out and interrupted the general’s ceremony. General Washington looked up to see the monstrosity disappear back into whence it came and merely shrugged, walking away and whistling to himself.

January 3, 1778-Just got back from the future. General Washington said he’s something called a “Time Lord,” a being with the means to travel between different time periods and dimensions. He took me in some flying, magical box to what he claimed was the year 2011. We watched moving pictures, or “movies” as the natives of that time called them, that depicted the future. According to most movies, explained to me as “science fiction,” advances in technology were supposed to have resulted in horseless carriages capable of flight, but alas, the fiction had not been made a reality yet. The future is on some old bullshit.

February 5, 1778-Have been getting headaches since returning from the future. General Washington explained this was a result of chrono-distortion, something that apparently only affects time-travelers who aren’t Time Lords. When I confronted him that it would have been nice to know that prior to agreeing to time travel, I would’ve declined his offer. He just said “Whoops.” The general’s an asshole.

February 39, 17XX-Not sure where I am. I think I accidentally teleported. Another effect of the chrono-distortion, probably. Seriously, there’s nothing here, just white space as far as the eye can see.

March 10, 1778-Pretty sure I saw myself walking around the camp today. I must be seeing things. Stupid chrono-distortion.

March 10, 1778-Time traveled two minutes back in time to freak my past self out. Not sure if it worked. Wait, two entries for March 10? Who the fuck wrote in my journal? Oh, right. Past Me.

March 17, 1778-Currently in a makeshift brig. Wrongly imprisoned. In tradition of St. Patrick’s Day, I thought it would be funny to shoot every man not wearing green as opposed to pinching them. Nobody else thought it was funny. I only shot one person, I was apprehended while reloading for my second. Stupid muzzle loaders.

March 28, 1778-Impromptu trial resulted in me being found not guilty due to the fact that General Washington thought the guy I shot was kind of a shit bird anyway. No harm, no foul! Maybe the general’s not so bad after all.

April 1, 1778-The general’s a fucking asshole. He told me he traveled to the future and had sex with my wife and daughters.

April 2, 1778-The general told me he was just joking about having sex with my wife and daughters, it was an April Fool’s Day joke. We laugh about it.

April 3, 1778-General Washington takes me to the future and makes me watch him have sex with my wife and daughters.

April 4, 1778-I have been made a cuckold. General Washington keeps calling me his "Eskimo brother," and my patriotism is no longer strong enough to silence my anger and disgust with this man. I can only hope that cannon fire or musket or saber or anything all takes me away from this world before I ever have to look into the eyes of my wife and daugters again.


Dustin is a comedian, writer, and failed musician.