[The Oval Office. There are discarded tissues, Diet Coke cans, and pizza boxes all over the place. DONALD TRUMP is at the Resolute Desk, wearing his ridiculous white-and-gold bathrobe, snorting a long line of his “formula.”]
TRUMP: [Gasping] Cleans the sinuses right out.
[Coughing, TRUMP struggles to his feet, mashes a button on the desk.]
Fuckers think they got me beat. They don’t know what they got by the tail. They got a gorilla by the — a tiger by the tail.
[Secretary of Health and Human Services ALEX AZAR enters. He is wearing a Level A Hazmat suit — like JARED KUSHNER’s, only with no duct tape — and approaches TRUMP with small, cautious steps, smiling nervously. TRUMP groans.]
Not you too! Christ, what’s wrong with people?
AZAR: [Through the speaker in his helmet] It’s just to fool the press, sir! We all know you’re fine.
TRUMP: [Braying] Better than fine! With them pills the doc gimme, I’m like a new man. Speaking of which —
[TRUMP reaches into his robe and pulls out some pills and a little flask, the top of which he unscrews.]
Time for my medicine, like my brother Fred would say.
[TRUMP pop the pills and slugs from the flask.]
One’s good, two’ll get you off. C’mon, Al, take that goddamn helmet off, I got plenty of pills for us both.
AZAR: Sir, I have to be scientific about this — I’m, you know the Secretary of HHS is sort of the science secretary —
TRUMP: [Enraged] Bullshit! That’s what everyone says when they don’t wanna get high with me now! [Effeminate voice] Ooooh what does the science say what does the science say! You know what we called nerds with lab coats back in Queens, right? Nerds! What are they president of? You think you’re better than me? PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!
[TRUMP makes to grab for AZAR’s helmet — AZAR draws back, yells:]
AZAR: Sir I have Swine Flu, sir! Swine Flu! Bad case! Don’t want you to get it! I’m protecting you the from Swine Flu, which I have, sir!
TRUMP: [Puzzled, backs up a bit] Wow. Swine flu, really? That’s some rough shit. Wow. Obama give it to you, right? That fucker, he give you swine flu?
AZAR: I think so, sir.
TRUMP: [Urgently] You’ll swear to that, Al? To Bill Barr and the DOJ?
AZAR: I think so, sir.
TRUMP: [Bellowing] Not you think so, you know so! We gotta get the goods on Obama before the election! You’re gonna swear!
AZAR: I’ll swear, I’ll swear!
TRUMP: Good! You got the bribes ready?
AZAR: Bribes, sir? I don’t —
TRUMP: The gift cards! You’re gonna send gift cards to the old people! Jesus Christ, do I gotta think of everything around here!
[TRUMP fishes a tissue out of his pocket, blows his nose, throws it on the floor.]
AZAR: Ah, the prescription cards, yes, Mr. President, yes, they’re coming along great.
TRUMP: Better be! By Election Day! Cause if we don’t win this thing you know what happens to you and everyone else. Because I’m not going quiet. If the feds don’t get you my buddies in the militia will! I ain’t foolin’ around! I —
[Trump starts coughing, takes an inhaler out of his pocket, snorts. Outside the office we hear a woman yelling “let me go.” AZAR notices; TRUMP seems not to. AZAR is terrified.]
AZAR: Sir, that reminds me, we have a meeting on the prescription cards and they can’t start without me! I’ll give them your best, I’ll tell them what you said and I’ll swear out Obama!
[AZAR runs out of the room. A second later the door flies open and we see a TWO MILITIAMEN in camo and leather vests and fake military patches on either side of White House counselor HOPE HICKS, holding her arms. HICKS, wearing a short purple coat-dress and powder blue pumps, looks at TRUMP, tries to smile.]
TRUMP: Hiya, toots. Long time no see. They keepin’ you comfortable?
HICKS: I’m fine, Mr. President.
TRUMP: No you ain’t. You got the bug same as me.
[The MILITIAMEN look at each other. TRUMP comes closer. HICKS looks scared but tries to keep it together. TRUMP voice becomes low and menacing.]
But with the right drugs it’s not so bad, huh, toots? I got it all set up for you. Why not? You and me, we’re in this together. You got the Regeneron, the plasma, the steroids. You probably don’t want the steroids — nah — they make your face puffy.
[TRUMP puts his hand to HICKS’ face. With a gasp she jerks her head away. TRUMP’s voice gets harder.]
You better get wise, lady. You and me are like Adam and Eve on a desert island. The last two on the dance floor. There’s nobody else left, just you and me --
[He lunges. With a scream HICKS wrenches away and flees. The MILITIAMEN run after her; there are sounds of a struggle, and two bodies hitting the floor. Pause. A MARINE pokes his head in for moment, then slowly closes the door.]
[TRUMP tries to open the door; it’s locked from the outside.]
HEY! HOPE! REMEMBER THE NDA!
[TRUMP pants, then coughs. He starts to wander, then grabs a corner of one of the bookcases and tries to knock it over, but after a couple of seconds just goes “ow” and shakes out his injured hands. He runs to the Rose Garden door, but sees something outside that make him think better of it. He pants, coughs. Then he pulls his phone out of his pocket, hits two buttons, puts it to his ear.]
Hey Junior. Listen, I’m cured now, so why don’t you bring your old man a pizza?