Big Head on the MountainThis is a story we received through the wormhole from Mark Fritz, a citizen of the future.
The gears of their well-worn Chinese-made Schwinns were grinding as Dante and his kid sister Uma rounded a steep curve on a wilderness trail in the Black Hills. A gap in the forest foliage gave them a direct view of the mountain known as Rushmore, and they squeezed their handbrakes and came to an abrupt stop, as if the awesome sight before them was the visual equivalent of a roadblock.
â€œWow,â€ said Uma.
â€œTold ya,â€ said Dante.
â€œI thought the Big Heads on the mountain was just a legend.â€
â€œTold ya. There they are.â€
Uma gazed silently up at the mountain for at least a minute, and Dante gazed at Uma. Heâ€™d never seen her so quiet for so long.
Finally, Uma broke the golden silence: â€œWho the heck are they? Important guys, I suppose. Big heads of big shots.â€
â€œThe old guys I work with at the distillery told me all about the heads. They know lots of history because theyâ€™re old. Gideon, the mash-master, is, like, 59!â€
â€œWow, Iâ€™ve never met anyone that old. Our parents arenâ€™t even that old.â€
â€œGideon told me theyâ€™re the heads of past Presidents of what used to be called the United States of America.â€
â€œThe one to the left looks familiar.â€
â€œYeah, did you ever see an old paper dollar bill?â€
â€œWell, heâ€™s on the dollar. And thatâ€™s him on the old quarter coins. Youâ€™ve seen them?â€
â€œYeah, Brianna has a necklace made of one; but I thought that was a woman on the coin.â€
â€œNo, itâ€™s George Washington wearing a wig â€“ both on the coin and on the mountain.â€
â€œWashington? As in ...
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