Oh crap oh no oh crapcrap. It's really happening!
What's really happening?
They're going to get loose!
Who's getting loose?
We should probably back up.
Yeah, we probably should.
Where are you?
I'm trapped in an SUV in the middle of my futuristic theme park.
OK, obviously. And you're being stalked by one of your creations. What is it? Velociraptor? Sabre-tooth tiger? Velocitiger?
I don't know either, but having thought of it, I don't think I'll be sleeping well tonight.
No. It's worse.
There's nothing worse than what I'm imagining a velocitiger to be.
I've cloned all of the presidents.
You've cloned important law-clarifying judicial rulings?
Oh! That's impressive. Unprecedented, even.
OK, so using DNA you've collected through your own innate nefariousness, you've got cloned Jeffersons and Clevelands and Fillmores and so on. And having defiled their crypts and unleashed the Presidents' Curse ...
You probably didn't know that every president was buried in the same grave, stacked on top of each other like Jenga blocks, did you?
... you're now reaping the consequences.
I guess. Are you here to help me or make me feel bad?
Making you feel bad IS helping you. Stupid.
So you're trapped in an SUV, you say? Try opening the doors.
Yeah, thanks. They won't work.
Try unlocking the doors.
I can't, genius-sausage. This isn't a real SUV; it's an electric one that runs on rails. Somehow the power got cut, and now I'm stuck.
Hmm. Do you have a computer scientist working for you?
He has betrayed you.
People who work with computers have no sense of right or wrong.
"Morality.dll kept throwing exceptions, so I just commented it out. Seems to work fine."
I imagine that, having seen some opportunity for personal profit, your computer programmer has shut off the power.
You're right! He's going to steal one of my presidents!
Leaving you un-presidented.
-An eerie howling sound disturbs the night air-
What was that?
It sounds like Teddy Roosevelt. I'm right near his enclosure.
Wait. Are you keeping the presidents penned up?
They're pretty nice pens.
-The howling takes on a new pitch. It sounds almost like an animal-
He sounds pretty incoherent.
None of them speak English very well. They're actually pretty disappointing in the flesh. Pretty unpresidential.
A man is more than his genetic material; we're the sum of all our past experiences. If you took Thomas Jefferson and raised him in another time, in another way, is he still Jefferson? I'd think not.
Raising presidents is expensive, OK?
Why didn't you just start with one?
I wanted him to have friends.
Maybe start a softball team.
"You pitch it high and inside one more time, Hoover, and I'm taking your fucking head off."
And then all of a sudden you've got 30-odd presidents in a pen and it got a bit out of control.
Exactly. And then they go through puberty together.
Right! And when they started mating, well, you can imagine.
What am I imagining now?
They started mating.
With who? Each other?
It's not what you think.
No, it's OK. I've read a lot of things on the Internet. I can handle this.
Some of the presidents are ladies.
Just having trouble handling it over here. Just handling ... bits of it at a time. Hoooooooooo.
I didn't get it, either. They were all dudes to start.
When you were cloning the presidents, did you by any chance happen to mix their DNA with frog DNA?
I have gender-bending presidents.
You sure you're OK?
I don't have the training for this. President-on-president action is someone else's bag.
There he is!
Who? Teddy Roosevelt? Lady Teddy Roosevelt?
No! It's my computer programmer! Outside the SUV! Hey! Hey, Alex! Oh my God! He's escaping with Woodrow Wilson!
What'd I tell you?
So he's not stealing money from you. He's stealing presidential kisses.
That's really, really dangerou ... OH HOLY SHIT!
Teddy Roosevelt just burst into the clearing and tore Alex in half!
Is President Roosevelt ... attached to President Wilson?
She's one of his mares.
What should I do?
Die in infamy? Jesus, I don't know. Duck down so they can't see you, I guess.
What's happening? What's that primal sound that's filling my ... nostrils?
The water! It's shaking!
What's that sound? It's like a washing machine with a shoe in it. The washing machine is also getting fucked by a bison.
Clone Teddy Roosevelt is taking Lady-Clone Woodrow Wilson.
All the windows in the SUV are breaking.
That's your chance to escape! Go now!
-sound of breaking glass and frantic scuffling-
OK. I escaped into the jungle.
Is there a way off this island?
There's a helicopter! But I have to get back to the control center first.
Get back to the control center!
OK! I ... uh ... I probably didn't need your advice for that.
Get back to the control center and get on the helicopter!
Are you doing it?
Yes. Oh shit!
What is it?
I hear someone.
Is it Teddy?
No, I think it's another of his mares.
Can we pick another name for that? 'Honorable Lady-Presidents' or something?
Oh thank goodness. It's just Millard Fillmore.
Foxy Millard Fillmore?
Is he ... dammit all to hell. Is she dangerous?
I don't think so.
OK. Just be careful. It's not the lady presidents you see that concern me.
It's the ones you don't ...
OH HOLY SHIT LADY MARTIN VAN BUREN IS SNEAKING UP ON ME FROM BEHIND!
OH GOD HELP ME HELP ME ADVICE GOD.
OK. Let's just slow down here and think.
NO WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT.
You're going to have to seduce your way past the lady presidents.
How's your ... milkshake? Are you, you know, bringing it?
I AM NOT SEDUCING THE LADY PRESIDENTS.
Easy with the "nots." Don't talk yourself down. You're going to need self-confidence to pull this off.
Hey! They're backing up! They're leaving me alone.
This sounds like good news, but I wonder if it's the kind of good news that immediately precedes bad news.
OH GOD NO. TEDDY ROOSEVELT IS BACK.
There it is.
All the presidents are here now! They're going to watch Teddy Roosevelt kill me.
I guess so. Huh.
Could you at least pretend to give one single leaping goddamn?
It's funny, because I'd have thought they'd have quite a bit of fear and respect for you. You're their creator, after all, their feeder, their master. They should recognize your scent and defer to you.
You're right! They've never attacked me before.
OK. Here's what you're going to do. You're going to re-establish yourself as the dominant male.
I want you to slowly lower your pants.
You'd better hurry up.
Now pee on the ground. Beat your chest while you do so. Show them your scent.
This had better work.
According to pee scientists, the most territorial of scientists, it will.
At the very least you won't piss yourself when you get the Executive Grope. What's happening?
Teddy Roosevelt seems wary. So do the other male presidents.
And the presidentresses?
What is it?
The lady presidents seem ... excited.
I knew you were bringing huge milkshake.
I think I'm just going to run.
Leave your pants! There's no time!
I think there's time!
Not now! Not after we've spent all this time arguing!
Dammit! They're still chasing me!
Still? Are you still peeing?
Run faster than your pee!
Now it's getting on me!
Run backward then!
This is going much much slower.
Run faster backward!
Are you nearly there yet?
Yes, finally. The helicopter pilot waited for me!
Pee on him! No! Don't!
I didn't, thanks. But he still doesn't look impressed.
Is it cold out?
What? Fuck you. Oh no!
What is it?
Lady Martin Van Buren has jumped into the helicopter with me! He/She is speaking!
I didn't know they could do that. What's he/she saying?
She loves me and wants to come back to America with me.
So what should I do?
Congratulations on completing this guide. You're no longer trapped in a theme park out of control. Should you require any further assistance, please consult our guide So Your Sin Against Nature Has Proposed to You.
Most rich kids just want to be pop stars.
How did these hyper-specific tropes spread so quickly?
The Hollywood rumor mill has been playing games with celebrity deaths for at least a century.
It's easy to work the system and win these awards even if you don't deserve them.