Dr. Lyman Hall walked into the room, not knowing what to expect. Not only was he new to Congress, a sapling among redwood trees, but he was sent with instructions that conflicted his own personal beliefs. Dr. Lyman Hall was not thrilled.
"Ah, you must be the new Georgia delegation," a voice said from behind him, and Hall turned around. He saw a man dressed in a sexy, studded, white outfit walking towards him with a certain confident glide to his gait.
"Er, yes, I am," Hall stuttered, wondering why this man was looking at him through lowered sunglasses, which hadn't been invented yet.
"My name is Edward Rutledge of South Carolina," the man drawled in a delectable Southern accent, "and might I say, you are looking very fine today."
"T-thank you, sir," Hall's eyes widened. "But why—?"
"Edward, are you terrorizing this poor man?" Another delegate, dressed in green this time, sidled up next to Rutledge, ignoring the dog-like man following him.
"I'm only inviting him into my harem, Mr. Dickinson," Rutledge replied with a sly smile and a wink.
Dickinson narrowed his eyes and pouted. "Do you mean to tell me that the rendezvous we planned earlier, to take place in your room, is being replaced by some new delegate?"
Wanting to avoid any quarrels, Hall slowly backed away from the two men, and made his way over to where he was told Georgia sat. He was, however, rudely met with the spat between another two men.
"Good God! Incredible!" one man, the short one, spewed various interjections while the other, tall and lanky, sat perfectly silent before him.
"If you stare at them for too long, your face will be stuck like that," a voice came from behind Hall, and the doctor turned around. "Benjamin Franklin at your service," the man continued. "Did you know I invented the stove? I'm very smart. Here, let me recite pi for you. 3.14159265358979—"
Hall did not hear Franklin finished, as he decided another part of the room might be better to stand in.
His head was spinning; the room was too noisy, filled with shouts of "I NEED MAH BOOZE, MCNAIR!" and "New York abstains, courteously. Courteously!" and the strangest spewings of an odd, very-hyperactive man who was walking towards Franklin.
"Is something wrong, young man?" Hall noticed he had ended up standing next to an old man, weak and gentle.
"I did not expect my fellow Congressmen to act in such a strange manner," he said, ducking as a flyswatter zoomed over his head, apparently aimed at a fly behind him.
"Do not mind them, it is probably the heat getting to them. It is quite warm," the man said, "My name is Caesar Rodney, young sir," he bowed.
"Dr. Lyman Hall, at your service."
"Now," Mr. Rodney began. "Would you be—" He stopped suddenly.
"What?" Hall asked, but jumped back as Rodney fell to a heap at his feet. A pulse check told him the man was dead, but no one around him seemed to care.
But through the shouting and mayhem, a voice stood out. "Is this the Congress? I looked everywhere, and…" It was a tall, squirrelish man standing in the doorway – or, it would be, if Hall hadn't, at that moment, sprung forward, knocking the man away from the Congress's room.
"Save yourself!" he screamed, and was promptly answered by Brother Sherman's "That's MY job, spawn of Satan!"
Congress did not often keep its new delegates.