Debate prep

Pretend Aaron Sorkin wrote it.

[The candidate’s office at JOE BIDEN’s presidential campaign HQ in Philadelphia. It looks no more lived-in than in our previous Biden episode: no dust, no disarrangement, even the industrial carpet seems brand new. The only change from last time is a podium at the center of the room at which stands BIDEN, dressed in a ridiculous tan tracksuit and athletic shoes so bulky you worry he’ll trip on them; he’s paler than usual, and a bit sweaty; his eyes are wide, as if he’s just had a surprise or a stroke. Former TRUMP Dr. Feelgood HAROLD BORNSTEIN and BIDEN’s campaign aide STEFAN stand nearby. BORNSTEIN is holding up two inhalers of the kind you’d see in a drug store, but with no labels: One has an “up” arrow on it and the other has a “down” arrow. STEFAN applauds.]

STEFAN: Outstanding! You did great, Joe, just great.

BORNSTEIN: Very, very nice, sir.

STEFAN: I pitched the hardballs and you kept hitting them out of the park.

BIDEN: [As if reacting to something totally unrelated] Wow. Boy.

STEFAN: When I said, I mean when Trump said, that your wife was a prostitute, man, you just took the top of my head off! And you did it without swearing! Much. Just a few f-words. [To BORNSTEIN] I think we can take, what do you think, a little off the top there, don’t you think so, Doctor?

BORNSTEIN: [Holding the “down” inhaler aloft] That’s what this one’s for.

[STEFAN goes in close to BIDEN, talks in a low voice.]

STEFAN: I figure if things get hairy we can give you a little tiny version of the inhaler. Maybe make a ring with a tiny inhaler in it and you just bring it up to your nose and sniff it. [Demonstrates.] See? Like it’s a keepsake of some kind, maybe your dead wife’s hair, you can tell them, it’s sentimental, and they know you like hair. Or you could tell people it’s DeMolay. The Catholic thing.

BIDEN: Listen, Stef, I’m —

[BIDEN rocks back on his heels a moment, laughs.]

Woo, forgive me, feels like I just got off a roller-coaster! Can’t says it wasn’t fun! But look, seriously pal, I’m still concerned about this thing getting around. I mean that Trump is such a liar nobody believes what he says, but what if we —

STEFAN: Joe, Joe, not to worry, listen, you know about nootropics?

BIDEN: No, can’t say as I do.

STEFAN: Well, it’s some bullshit brain pill Republicans sell to rubes. They tell them it makes them smarter, quicker, it’s, it’s, well it’s sad, really. But now, we don’t want to make money off that garbage, that would be immoral, but listen — what if we had our own line of these nootropics and we said that you were using them and that’s what making you so sharp? The Trump people wouldn’t be able to say anything, because it would spoil their grift!

BIDEN: Uh huh. I see. But —

STEFAN: Good! [Yells] Send him in!

[The door opens and MIKE CERNOVICH, dressed in an expensive suit jacket and shirt that don’t quite match and no tie and a day’s growth of beard he thinks makes him look sexy but just accents his nose hairs, comes in carrying a jug of something labelled BIDEN BOOST with CERNOVICH’s face on it.]

CERNOVICH: [Shaking BIDEN’s hand] Mithter Biden, it’s thutch an honor to meet yew! We have a thaying at Thernovitch Induthtries, “Politics thtops at the profith’s edge.” Tho: I rethpect you, you rethspect me, leth do bithness! [Holds up jug] Thith thooper product harnethes the banking power of Delaware, wraithes your nitric ockthide and boothes your brain power, it —

[SHOCK CUT to TRUMP’s rehearsal room, a hastily-constructed hangar outside one of his golf courses. Almost lost in the vastness of the hangar is TRUMP, dressed in his usual golf clothes, standing at a podium. His bloodless, tiny hands grip the top of the podium; his face winces and contorts like a lap dissolve of a series of MadBalls. There is a large plastic bin behind him, in which something splashes around. Nearby stands an array of misshapen GOONS wearing sweatshirts marked GOON #1, GOON #2, etc., sweatpants and derby hats cocked at jaunty angles; COREY LEWANDOWKSI, wearing a nice suit and flexing his jaw and shaking his fists like he’s pretending to be a college basketball coach from the ‘70s; and STEVE BANNON, naked and floating a few feet off the ground in some sort of smoke-filled plastic bubble.]

TRUMP: Nnnnhhhdddggastastts. Nggdshhdhhhhuh!

COREY: [to BANNON] Steve, he’s losin’ it! Request permission to abort!

[BANNON’s voice emanates from the bubble, whispery but loud and reverberant.]

BANNON: This agon has been foretold. As our Lord suffered in the desert, so our Führer must suffer on the back nine.

TRUMP: Gnnnahhhhahhahnnnndgh.

BANNON: Observe how I direct his essence! Mister President: “our country deserves better.”

TRUMP: NIIII FUCK CUNT DRRRETTTTCHH GAHHHH

BANNON: It is time for the sacrifice!

[One of the GOONS goes to the bin, fetches a very young baby seal, and hands it to TRUMP, who grabs it and bites deep into its belly, gushing blood, snarling and gnashing. TRUMP hurls the corpse to the ground, wipes his mouth, staggers in place with blood dripping down his chin; then he starts making his traditional chopping gestures, and roars:]

TRUMP: Gah what kinda a country ya live in — ya walk down the street ya get shot by tha Black Lives Matter an Antifa an bums an thugs they’re, they’re all — they’re Black Central Park Lives Matter, Bernie Goetz, Al Sharpton, the hard hats knew how ta take care of a fuck shitgrrr NIGGERFUGAHHHHHH GAAAAAAAHHHH —

[One of the GOONS sprays TRUMP with a hose, causing blood to splatter on everyone; this seems to calm TRUMP, who adopts a slightly more measured tone:]

The crime in the cities it’s out of control, out of control. Animals. They’re ANIMALS! [Deep, juicy sniff.] Ya can’t drive to the store for a quart a milk, can’t go ta church! Ya kids can’t go ta, ta, ta marbles, baseball cards, pogs, Benson, the ice cream frozen chocolate Serendipity, East 60th street, church! That’s why we sent the federal authority agents. [Deep, juicy sniff.] Because the cops, the statues, beloved statues, beautiful statues, they’re outnumbered by the Black Lives Matter and Antifa, Amy, Amy Coney Barrett [Deep, juicy sniff, with unconscious dipping of his head and raising of his hand to his nose as if taking a bump; his voice becomes low and urgent], beautiful girl, beeeauuutiful, beautiful girl, woman, wife, mother, woman, loves Jesus, loves the babies, and Jesus loves the beautiful girl, woman, wife, beautiful family, beautiful Jesus beautiful girl I eat my little cracker and I feel it’s all, yeah, it’s all, yeah, we’re all alright, we’re all alright. HELLO WISCONSIN! YEAHHH! YEAHH! YEAAAAHHHHH —

[They spray him with the hose again.]

LEWANDOWSKI: YEAH! YEEEEAH!

[They spray LEWANDOWSKI with the hose. LEWANDOWSKI laughs maniacally, vibrates his hands with fingers splayed wide open at TRUMP in a brotherhood gesture; TRUMP, stupefied, stares at him uncomprehendingly and pretends to drink a glass of water, then to throw the imaginary glass over his head behind him. ]

BANNON: Excellent. Excellent.

[TRUMP tries to pick up the podium, falls backwards. Respectful silence.]

TRUMP: [Screaming from a prone position] ME GO POOPIES.

ONE OF THE GOONS: (sotto voce to another GOON) I wish Bornstein was here.

[BLACKOUT.]