THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY IS MY FRIEND
Introductory
Vice President Thomas R. Marshall as of October 7th, 1919.
Introductory
Vice President Thomas R. Marshall as of October 7th, 1919.
Vice President Marshall sat at his prescribed desk in the Vice President's office, trying to focus on the papers given to him by Colonel House in lieu of an ailing President Wilson. However, his day dreamy mind and the light of the chandelier that had been placed there during the Roosevelt administration had distracted him, and again he found his mind drifting off to mysteries unanswered...
Why hadn't the President spoken to him recently? Or, a better question, why hadn't his closest friends (which he had thought he was one of) let Marshall at least see his degree of health?
These questions continued to stoke the animosity in Marshall's heart, as he had remained true to his President, attempting to ward off pressure to usurp the Presidency by the Secretary of State and others hoping to pass Wilson's precious peace bill without the serious opposition it currently faced, yet he still remained an outsider from the group catering to the President's daily needs during the times of severe sickness.
Marshall yawned, waved away this dangerously hostile thought from his consciousness, and lazily attempted to bring his focus once more to the papers on his desk. It was night, and the light of the chandelier seemed to grow brighter brighter as time seemed to be getting slower and slower. Finally, his vision blurred and darkness overcame his sight.
A sudden burst through the door woke up Marshall, and he quickly shook his head in an attempt to stop the shaky picture that his eyes provided him.
"Who-?", Marshall attempted to inquire, but was quickly cut off with a voice that the Vice President would recognize anywhere:
"It's Wilson, Mr. Vice President. He's dead.", Lansing stated, his own emotions in half disbelief and a disturbing feeling of gratefulness. "Died two hours ago in his bed. The physician said it was a major stroke that killed the man. Poor Wilson. Never did want to admit he was seriously ill."
Marshall felt a shock surround his body as a sort of aura: the issue that had most beleaguered him through the recent months was now solved in that Marshall must assume the Presidency.
He stood up, put on his glasses that had been sitting on the desk before him, and uttered only a few words.
"Come, Lansing. We must decide how to present this to the public."
With a breath, Lansing looked Marshall dead in the eye and nodded.
"Of course, Mr. President."
Mr. Wilson was buried, a day of mourning was declared, and a day later, Thomas Riley Marshall is inaugurated President of the United States the next day, on October 8th, the year of our lord 1919.
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