“Sir!”

“Not now, Colonial Jenkins. I’m symbolizing.”

“Anything in particular, General Washington?”

“You name it. Freedom, masculinity, sneakiness. There’s a lot going on right now.”

“Yes, sir. But you really need to sit down.”

“Speak to me that way once more, Jenkins, and you get bit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will take my teeth right out and bite your dick off. I’ll make a fine gnash of your nethers.”

“Begging your pardon, General, but we’re in a tiny boat. We need to keep our center of gravity as low as possible.”

“Gravity?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Has that been invented yet?”

“200 years ago.”

“You don’t say.”

“General, you’re rocking the boat back and forth. At least take your leg off the gunwale.”

“Have those been invented, too?”

“That depends. Do you think I said ‘gunwhale?'”

“I hope you did! We should buy as many as we can. War’d be over in two weeks.”

“Gunwhales aren’t real, General.”

“Well, have the boys in the Culper Ring build one.”

“Sir, do you see that we’re using oars to propel the boat? And that you’re wearing a sword? We’re nowhere near technologically advanced enough to weaponize cetaceans.”

JANKY-ASS BOAT NEARLY CAPSIZING NOISE

“Sir! For the sake of America, please sit down!”

“How dare you blame me for your poor seamanship! Row more vigorously! Jib your sheets! Mizzen your masts to the lash of the fo’castle!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hop to it, then.”

“General, you’re not much of a boat person, are you?”

“Only been on three so far. Do not understand the appeal. Now, horses? I’ll ride the fuck out of a horse, Jenkins.”

“Yes, sir. But getting thrown out of a boat is so, so, so much worse than being thrown off a horse. Especially with all the ice.”

“Ah, thank you for reminding me. Have my slaves gather up all the ice they can and sell it to the French.”

“Yes, sir. What about crouching? If I can’t get you to sit, can I get you to crouch down? Even just a little bit would help.”

“Jenkins, I didn’t buy this new cape for you to look at. I want Cornwallis to see how good I look.”

“It’s the middle of the night, sir.”

“Clearly not. Look how bright it is.”

“Just in the painting, General. Lot of factual inaccuracies in there.”

“They call that ‘artistic license,’ Jenkins.”

“I read that, yes. Sir, please sit down.”

“Fuck you, Jenkins. I’m jumping!”

FATHER OF OUR COUNTRY JUMPING UP AND DOWN IN A ROWBOAT LIKE A LOON NOISE

“Whee! I’m the jumpiest boy in the colonies!”

“What the fuck, dude?”

“YAAAAAAY!”

…

“Hey, jackass.”

Yes, Jenkins?

“What happened there?”

The characterization went a bit sideways on me. I’ll admit that.

“You’re just not trying lately.”

I’m sick.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I have brainosis.

“Next time you involve me, I need you to have a thought-out premise.”

Sorry, Jenkins.