Post Mortem

When life hands you catastrophe, make catastrophade!

[The Throne Room at Mar-a-Lago. The Throne itself has a tarp over it, and on the first landing of the steps to the throne is a yellow plastic “Wet Floor” sign. Downstage DONALD TRUMP, wearing his gilt-edged white fluffy robe with ribbed wife-beater visible, sits in a replica of Archie Bunker’s chair from “All In The Family” and soaks his feet in a galvanized tub with steam coming out of it.  Sitting facing him on the Supplicants’ Bench, trying to be as far from one another as possible, are Rep. MARJORIE TAYLOR GREENE, wearing a tropical pink Lilly Pulitzer Amryn blazer with matching flared trousers, metallic gold Palermo leather sandals, and a MAGA hat; and famous rightwing nut and Trump traveling companion LAURA LOOMER, wearing a smoke grey Eleventy turtleneck cable-knit midi sweater dress and Mary Janes. The Filipino flunky PINSY is walking away carrying two buckets. TRUMP reaches into his robe pocket, takes out an inhaler of The Formula, and snorts.]

LOOMER: I knew that pilot made the cabin too cold! Did you see him? Another DEI hire!

GREENE: Quit nagging him!

[GREENE runs over to TRUMP and offers him a tissue.]

You want to wipe your nose, Mr. President?

LOOMER: There’s nothing wrong with his nose!

[Without looking at her TRUMP takes the tissue, blows his nose in it, then drops it in the water.]

GREENE: Oopsie! Here.

[She kneels to fish the tissue out of the tub.]

LOOMER: He’s not gonna go for it, sweetie. Maybe if you turned around.

[GREENE stands, drops the tissue on the ground, runs to LOOMER and starts beating her. They wind up rolling on the ground, clawing and punching. TRUMP pays no attention. Entering on the run and clapping his hands is former Presidential aide/current Nazi STEPHEN MILLER, wearing his traditional travel suit. The other flunky DIBS, in his usual shabby butler outfit, stalks in behind him.]

MILLER: HALT! HALT! STILLGESTANDEN!

[MILLER gets right up to the wrestling women, but stops with his hands up, seemingly unsure of how to proceed; DIBS arrives, reaches down, grabs each woman by the ear and pulls; they both shriek and clamber to their feet, breathing heavily.]

Was ist los? You are making a mockery of the Leader’s illness!

LOOMER: He’s not so sick! Just a little tired, aren’t you, Mr. President?

TRUMP: Tell the truth I could use a Diet Coke.

MILLER: [To DIBS] Do you not hear him? Bring the Diet Coke! Schnell!

[MILLER smacks DIBS’ shoulder with the back of his hand; in a flash DIBS grabs MILLER’s skull and pushes his thumbs into his eyes. MILLER screams, and DIBS releases his grip, turns, and walks away. MILLER, rubbing his eyes, turns to TRUMP.]

MILLER: Your Diet Coke will be here momentarily, Mr. President. I trust the Fußbad is helpful to your condition?

[PINSY enters with the two buckets which, by the way he carries them, appear full of water.]

TRUMP: The bucket? Nah, I just like a good soak.

[With difficult TRUMP pushes himself erect and starts to step out of the tub — GREENE charges over to him and takes his arm. PINSY notices and, with a sigh, puts down the buckets and wipes his brow. TRUMP looks at GREENE, jerks his arm back.]

The fuck? What are you doing here? We got a Polaroid of you at the gate!

GREENE: Just a loyal soldier to the cause, sir!

TRUMP: [to PINSY] Take care of this, willya.

[GREENE spins toward PINSY just as he applies a taser to her jawline; as she spasms and totters he grabs her and drags her offstage.]

[To MILLER] Go find me a hall in Pennsylvania where they don’t need a deposit.

[MILLER clicks his heels and marches off.]

LOOMER: [Steps to TRUMP, breathlessly] Thank you so much for sticking up for me, Mr. President.

[TRUMP is waddling around, taking occasional, heavy snorts from the inhaler.]

TRUMP: Don’t get any ideas. It’s all nines and tens in here. You’re like negative numbers. You’re just here for your brains.

[Suddenly TRUMP turns on LOOMER.]

Speaking of which, what the fuck with the dogs? I looked like a fucking idiot.

LOOMER: We just have to do the follow through.

TRUMP: Follow through? What follow through? What are you talking about?

LOOMER: Well –

TRUMP: Talk fast, ‘cause I’m gonna get the Filipino guy back here with the zapper.

LOOMER: We have to get the Party behind the story. Mike DeWine did his bit sending the state police to Springfield — now we have to get Mike Johnson and the House to pass legislation.

TRUMP: [Gesturing offstage] Well, I hate to tell you, but we just lost one vote.

[DIBS arrives with a Diet Coke on a platter; he stands near TRUMP impassively, holding it.]

LOOMER: Oh, but surely —

TRUMP: Hey. Listen. Mike Johnson is like some kinda hermit when I call. Up in the hills. No one can reach him. None of those Congresspeople do shit for me.

[TRUMP enters the hypermanic phase evident in the recent debate.]

LOOMER: Then Elon Musk —

TRUMP: Elon Musk, lemme tell you something, Elon Musk, very loyal, absolutely, on our side, all the way, but you know what, he talks a lot of bullshit, like he’s gonna go to Mars and his square cars nobody wants, nobody believes it, it’s like a bum handing out flyers on the subway, it’s disgusting, nobody wants it.

[PINSY returns, stand next to DIBS; as they wait for TRUMP to notice them, PINSY pretends to try and snatch the Diet Coke, and he and DIBS engage in collegial dumbshow.]

LOOMER: There are other influencers —

TRUMP: Influences, what are you talking about, influences, the girl who spits on the guy’s cock, this is an influencer? That fucking idiot Vance? Wrote a book and the retards in Bumfuck made him a Senator and everywhere he goes he farts and goes “duh bluh duh bluh what’s a donut, is it like a croissant” and they all spit at him? How about I get the guys who made the Reagan movie to make a movie about the dogs and cats? Like the Amazing Journey. Make it so the dogs and cats are running away from the Haitians — don’t you hear how stupid it sounds?

[TRUMP lifts the inhaler to his nose and actually tries to talk while snorting.]

Bunch of catshhhnn and dogshnnn and Haitianshhhhn, I been, you know I been, you look, the Mexicans, boons, I know what scares ‘em, why the fuck did I listen, why the fuck – the fuck — fuck —

[TRUMP attempts to bring the inhaler to his nose, but he trembles and suddenly collapses. LOOMER covers her face in her hands. PINSY and DIBS set aside the Diet Coke; DIBS gets out his phone, dials a code, and puts the phone back in his pocket and helps PINSY drag TRUMP by the shoulders to the steps of the Throne and prop him up against them. Presently a golf cart with a police car party light stuck to it speeds in; three factota gets out and load TRUMP aboard, then drive away with him. PINSY goes up to LOOMER and strikes a louche pose.]

PINSY: You want drink in lounge, Missy Loomer? I know all the good things.

[LOOMER makes a disgusted noise and storms off. PINSY picks up the Diet Coke and opens it, goes to DIBS, who is leaning on the stairs smoking a cigarette; DIBS takes out the pack and offers one to PINSY, who accepts.]

DIBS: You shot your shot.

PINSY: Next time I go like this:

[He makes a V with his fingers and licks between them.]

DIBS: [Nods] That’s how I met my first wife.