WARTTRG

“Where am I?”

I didn’t get an answer, but I looked around and saw that I was in a field. Alone.

“OK, how did I get here?”

Obviously, there was no one around to answer. Last thing I remember, I was in the Danger Sled with Professor Xavier and Private Hudson and on my way to Pittsburg.

“Something tells me I’m not in Kansas anymore.”

There ya go, Jon. Make with the yucks.

“OK, first thing I gotta do is quit talking to myself.”

Pause.

“OK, that’s better.”

I took another look around me and noticed that I wasn’t just in some field. I was in a field filled with amber waves of grain. And off on the horizon were purple mountains, and off in the other direction I saw fruited plains.

“I’m in America.”

“Of course you are,” said a voice behind me.

I turned towards the voice and looked at the living embodiment of the United States himself. The spirit of America personified.

“Uncle Sam,” I said.

“The one and only,” he nodded slightly in reply.

“Wow. Hey, I just want to say that when I was in the Army, I sometimes called you Uncle Spam. I hope you’re not too offended.”

“No, of course not,” he laughed it away. “America has strong shoulders and a thick skin.”

“So I’m dreaming again, right?” I asked.

“Yes,” Uncle Sam answered. “Professor Xavier was talking about harmony between human and mutantkind and you dozed off.”

“This is pretty cool. I’m not usually cognizant of my dreams, you know. Except for that one time I dreamt that I was a gargoyle. That was pretty cool, I was flying around in the full moon and everything.”

“I brought you here to tell you that you are at the end of you dream quest.”

“OK, but I have one question,” I answered. “WARTTRG. What does that mean?”

“WARTTRG?” My companion looked at me with a furled brow. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Well, I figured that if I put all the names together of the presidents of my dreams, I’ll get their powers like Shazam.”

“Well it doesn’t really work like tha—”

“Wait! Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Roosevelt, Taft, Harry Truman, Roosevelt, Grover Cleveland. WARTHRG. That almost makes sense.”

“Jon, I don’t think that you’re getting th—”

“I got it!” I snapped. “It’s the Oh is Franklin Roosevelt which makes it WART HOG! So all I have to do is yell out WART HOG!”

“I’m trying to tell you tha—”

“WART HOG wouldn’t be my first choice,” I continued. “But I guess it works. There’s the A-10 Warthog and the Ramones song and that one warthog from the Jungle King. Warthogs are kind of cool, I guess.”

“Jon, you’re not getting it!” Uncle Sam yelled.

“What?”

“The names don’t matter,” he said. “They never mattered. “What matters is the knowledge and abilities that are conferred upon you. Washington’s strength, Lincoln’s courage, Theodore Roosevelt’s tenacity, Taft’s justice, Truman’s resolve, Franklin Roosevelt’s Longevity, and Grover Cleveland’s stick-to-itiveness are all yours now. Use them wisely.”

“Oh. OK,” I answered. “I will, don’t worry.”

“With all of these abilities combined,” Uncle Sam continued. “You will be the greatest president this country could ever hope for. Use them and they will lead you to the answer to any problem or challenge this country will face during your term.”

“Cool, so I’m gonna be the best president evah?” I felt the knowledge and the resolve and everything flow through me. It felt pretty good. “This is going to be great. For the country I mean.”

“Of course,” Uncle Sam answered. “There’s just one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to get elected first.”

“D’oh!”