Feeling it

Jared takes a lesson

© 2018 U.S. Embassy Jerusalem via a Creative Commons license

[The Oval Office, night. The sofas have been moved back to make room. Academy Award™ nominee JAMES WOODS has returned to the Oval; wearing neutral-toned slacks, a button-down shirt, and navy Allbirds, he paces the floor. Presidential son-in-law JARED KUSHNER is standing nearby. He is dressed like Tom Cruise in a Mission: Impossible movie, in black and off-black shoes, slacks, and shirt, with a close-fitting black leather jacket. He watches Woods warily.]

WOODS: See, the thing is you don’t really have to do — anything. You know the lines. And congratulations, that’s huge. Lot of people can’t. And your voice is fine.

JARED: Really? Because that was something everybody hoped, well I hoped we could work on.

WOODS: When I say your voice is fine, I mean you don’t have to change it artificially, you don’t have to try to make it gruff or deep.

[WOODS does the classic JAMES WOODS sidemouth thing.]

Though between you and me, a pack or two of Marlboros couldn’t hurt, you know?

JARED: Ewww.

WOODS: But you can get the same effect by going in a sealed room and yelling for a few minutes. Dustin Hoffman, Little Big Man. Great perf. But it’s not your instrument. It’s what you believe. Look, I’m not gonna lay a lot of arty-farty bullshit on you, but there’s no getting around it, when you know who you are and what you are and what you’re about, it’s gonna read.

JARED: I... need an instrument?

WOODS: You need to know that you’re the fucking king of the jungle!

[KUSHNER flinches slightly at this.]

And it’s true! You are! C’mon, just who are these fucking pipsqueaks mouthing off about you? Who are they? Tell me.

KUSHNER: Um, Charlie Pierce, Chris Cillizza, Drew Griffin, my tenants in Jersey City, my tenants in —

WOODS: NOBODIES! They’re all a bunch of pansy sissy poindexter know-it-all good-for-nothing limp-wristed sissies! I said sissies already. Well, I’m saying it again! Sissies!

[WOODS frames KUSHNER up with his fingers like an old-fashioned movie director.]

While on the other hand, you! Jared Kushner! Publishing magnate! Man about town! Total fucking stud hot shit SAVIOR of the Coronavirus Task Force! You rule and pencil-necks drool! C’mon, Jared, show me some swagger! Let’s take a walk.

[WOODS pulls out his phone, clicks it — a sound system starts playing Thelonious Monk’s “Locomotive,” starting about twelve bars in. WOODS starts walking with a jaunty bop around the space.]

C’mon, J! C’mon and move it around. Feel it!

[KUSHNER follows, tries to put his hips into it, but he really looks like he’s trying to squeeze through a narrow turnstile.]

Good! Now tell me who you are.

KUSHER: I’m Jared Kushner.

WOODS: You’re Jared motherfucking Kushner!

KUSHER: I’m Jared motherfucking Kushner!

[WOODS goes to him, hits him on the shoulder.]

WOODS: Who da man!

KUSHNER: Oww!

WOODS: Who da man you da man! Who da man!

[WOODS hits JARED in the shoulder again. JARED hits WOODS in the shoulder.]

KUSHNER: You da man!

WOODS: No, you da man!

KUSHNER: I’m da man!

WOODS: You mean it, SAY it like you mean it!

KUSHNER: [Heartily] I’M da man!

WOODS: YOU’RE A KING!

KUSHNER: I’M KING!

[KUSHNER throws his arms up, grins madly.]

WOODS: YOU’RE A BEAST!

KUSHNER: GROWWWWRRR!

WOODS: GROWWWRR YOU’RE A STUD!

KUSHNER: I’M A MOTHERFUCKIN' STUD!

[KUSHNER is grinding his hips in place. He does sound excited, but in a tween-girl-with-Rihanna-tickets way.]

I’M A STUD! GROWWWWRRR! I’M A STUD GROWWWRR!

[WOODS gets into a wrestler crouch, his pelvis fluid.]

WOODS: DO YOU FUCK, MY MAN!

KUSHER: I FUCK!

WOODS: BULLSHIT! TELL ME YOU FUCK LIKE YOU FUCKING FUCK!

KUSHNER: [Brighter and more yappy] I FUCK!

WOODS: [Bellowing from the gut] FUUUUUUUUCK!

KUSHNER: [More like WOODS] FUUUUUUUUUCK!

WOODS: FUUUUUUUUUCK!

KUSHNER: FUUUUUUUUCK!

WOODS: WHO DO YOU FUCK!

KUSHNER: I FUCK VANKY!

WOODS: YOU FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES!

KUSHNER: I FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES! I'LL FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES!

[It’s like a button got pushed — KUSHNER’s jaw practically unhinges, his eyes get droopy and he’s jacking his body almost like he’s dancing.]

I’LL FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES! I FUUUUCK. FUUUUUCK! I FUCK ANYTHING THAT MOVES! I FUCCCCK! I FUCCCCK! I’M A FUCK BITCH CUNT CUM FUCK A BITCH! FUCK A BITCH FUCK A BITCH! FUUUUUCK!

[KUSHNER starts doing ridiculous kung-fu moves.]

I'M JARED FUCKIN’ KUSHNER THE KING, THE KING OF YOUR CUNT BIIIIIITCH. I GRUNT AND GRUNT AND I CUM IN YOUR CUNT! BIIIITCH.

[WOODS uses his phone to cut the music.]

WOODS: FANTASTIC! NOW GIMME THOSE LINES!

KUSHNER: [Roaring] WE HAVE COME TO A CROSSROADS IN OUR FIGHT AGAINST THE VIRUS!

WOODS: SAME ENERGY, LESS VOLUME!

[KUSHNER is still pumped and grinning, but decreasingly wild and increasingly Jared-like.]

KUSHNER: We have endured much but we have achieved much, and MY plan brings us through the last stage of the wilderness into the bright, healthful sunshine of a new day. All of the victory belongs to the American people and to Donald Trump, whose wisdom and patience brought us to this heroic day.

WOODS: Now throw it away! Say it like you don’t care.

[KUSHNER now sounds like Drippy Jared, talking about some TV show he watched but didn’t like or complaining at length about lumpy marmalade. Occasionally he shrugs one shoulder.]

Our plan calls for an ever increasing amount of freedom, with liberties we thought lost returning and increasing day by day until before you know it, life and the stock market come roaring back as never before. Food will taste better and the air will smell cleaner. We will have killed millions of people, but we will have emerged victorious.

[Pause. WOODS claps once.]

WOODS: BETTER! Good adjustment. I think we have something to build on.

[KUSHNER shakes all over like a dog drying off.]

KUSHNER: Whoo! That felt good.

WOODS: Is there really a line in there about — killing millions of people.

KUSHNER: [Fingers to mouth] Ooops. That was subtext, sorry!

[A door opens and TRUMP walks in. WOODS and KUSHNER freeze.]

WOODS: Mr. President!

TRUMP: How's it goin’, Jimmy. You know you’re the best in the business, but some people can’t take direction.

KUSHNER: You were watching?

TRUMP: [Pointing around the ceiling] Cameras all over the place. We got it on tape if you guys want a laugh.

[KUSHNER is mad, sputtering.]

KUSHNER: Goddamnit! I try and try and try and TRY to do better and all I get is insults! Well goddamnit, no more! I quit this stupid White House!

[KUSHNER stomps out.]

WOODS: Well, I guess I’ll be —

TRUMP: No, stick around. I need a little brush up.

[TRUMP crosses to desk, sits.]

WOODS: Sir?

TRUMP: Yeah. People been saying I’m a little too relaxed, you know. So I need some tips, you know. From someone who knows. Knows, get it?

WOODS: Say no more.

[WOODS crosses to the desk, pulls a razor and a bag of coke out of his pocket, dumps a bunch of coke on the desk and starts chopping.]

TRUMP: Attaboy.

WOODS: I thought you had your own private, uh —

TRUMP: Formula, yeah. But I think they’ve been cutting it. Baby laxative, I figure, because I been getting the runs. Anyway you always have the best shit.

[TRUMP pulls a metal straw out of pockets, prepared too snort.]

Here’s to millions of dead. Poor bastards.

[He commences to hoover as the CURTAIN falls.]