© 2015 Roseworthy Agricultural College under a Creative Commons license
[The “Winter White House: in Gulchville, Kentucky that MITCH McCONNELL set up for the Trumps last week. Since the family’s last visit, the furniture has gotten kind of banged up, and there’s a definite funk about the place. TRUMP sits in the only really nice chair, playing with his phone. DON JR. is laying on a pile of straw; ERIC is sitting on the floor playing a video game; TIFFANY is lying on a couch, earbuds in, gazing at her tablet; JARED is sitting on a kitchen chair at a little antique-looking desk, tapping away at a laptop.]
DON JR.: You know what, I like this casual lifestyle! Seriously, country life for me. You don’t have to shave or pay attention to your hair.
ERIC: LOL, when did you ever. [Gestures] Look at you! You’re like a great big “before” picture. Except there’s no “after.”
DON JR.: I’m not the one with the hygiene issues.
ERIC: LOL why, because you drench yourself in cologne. I bet people see you on TV and think, “I bet that guy smells like cigars and cum.”
DON JR.: [Makes buzzer noise] Try again loser. Least I have a girlfriend.
ERIC: Oh yeah, where is she then.
DON JR.: She’s busy.
ERIC: Is she getting more plastic in her butt?
DON JR.: You have plastic in your butt, like a dildo up your butt.
ERIC: You’re a dildo, that’s why she likes you, dildo.
[They grow increasingly loud.]
DON JR.: Least she likes me!
ERIC: ‘Cause you’re a dildo!
DON JR.: You’re a dildo!
ERIC: Your girlfriend likes dildos!
DON JR.: That’s why she likes me!
ERIC: Ha ha you said you were a dildo!
TRUMP: SHADDAP!
[The boys are silent.]
Christ, how long I gotta stay in this nuthouse? Jared, when can we get the fuck out of here?
JARED: [Intently working] Just a minute.
TRUMP: “Just a minute”? What the fuck are you working on, your resume? 'Cause I gotta tell you, kid, this is as good as it gets for you. When I go down you’re the guy that runs the shirt press in the prison laundry. Now shut the goddamn computer and tell me when we can get out of here.
[JARED closes the laptop.]
JARED: The car will pick us up at three o’clock.
TRUMP: That’s hours from now! I’ll go nuts!
JARED: It’s literally ten minutes from now.
[JARED reopens his laptop. TRUMP puts away his phone, fumbles in his jacket pocket.]
DON JR.: Dad, really, it’s great politics to rub elbows with these people.
TRUMP: Great politics? What are you, Mark Penn? Some politician you are — you get heckled and you freeze up! You hadda get your girlfriend to defend you!
[TRUMP gets what looks like Dristan Nasal Mist out of his pocket.]
What’d I tell you? You get a little muscle in there to crack heads!
[TRUMP snorts a shit-ton of Dristan Nasal Mist.]
That’s how you get respect! Now everybody think you’re a pussy.
ERIC: [In a low, funny voice] Pusssssssssy.
TRUMP: [To ERIC] You shut up! People think you’re a retard! In fact you’re all retards. All except my girls. Tiffany! Tiffany, you listening to this?
[He looks at TIFFANY who has noticed nothing.]
Fucking phones will be the ruin of this generation. Jared, how long now?
JARED: [While typing] Same time as when you asked the last time minus thirty seconds.
[TRUMP, his face very red, waddles over to JARED.]
TRUMP: Don’t get cute, Jared. Don’t get cute. I’ll break your goddamn Jew skull.
[JARED is surprisingly unfazed.]
JARED: Why don’t you get Benzedrine to help you pass the time?
TRUMP: That bitch! Last time I did her she lifted my wallet.
JARED: Are you sure?
TRUMP: Absolutely. Every time I pull my pants back up I check for my wallet and it was gone. I said “bitch, where’s my wallet?” She made like she was throwing up but I knew it was her. I woulda smacked it out of her but tell the truth I worry about the old lady. I don’t think she’s right in the head.
JARED: Maisie Belle the cook? What do you mean?
TRUMP: She keeps asking me about shit I know nothing about. You know, Southern shit! Like [imitates her voice], “Mistah Preznit, how you like Yamushrat?” I said, what is this “Yamushrat,” one of those Muslim chicks the Democrats put in Congress?
JARED: I think she means what she served us for lunch.
TRUMP: Yamushrat? I thought it was beef stroganoff. So what is it really, Turkish? Sounds Turkish.
JARED: No, not Yamushrat, “your muskrat.”
TRUMP: [Disgusted] Muskrat? I ate muskrat?
JARED: I was wondering why you were eating it. I just hid mine in my lap and later me and Tiffany got some chicken from the Piggly Wiggly.
TRUMP: Help! I’m gonna be sick!
[He starts retching.]
ERIC: Look, everybody, Pop’s throwing up!
[SECRET SERVICE floods in, surrounds the President. Two agents support him. Everybody gets up and prepares to leave. Enter MAISIE BELLE, wiping her hands on her apron.]
MAISIE BELLE: Mister Preznit, I shore am sorry ta see ya go, but the Good Lord willin’ an’ the crik don't rise —
TRUMP: [As they haul him away] Her! That’s the bitch that poisoned me!
[A bunch of SECRET SERVICE pile on MAISIE BELLE, who puts up a terrific struggle. TRUMP and the others leave hurriedly. Finally MAISIE BELLE throws up her hands.]
MAISIE BELLE: Okay, fellers, I give.
[As an agent puts the cuffs on her, a bruised and battered MAISIE BELLE turns to the audience.]
An’ I'm still a-gonna vote for him over thet there Pocahontas!
[CURTAIN.]
Nice! Minor correction--I don't think the last line is spoken by Trump.
I like the shift in the Kush, and it makes me wonder if it's headed somewhere. Also, the serial is fantastic. This version of Trump reminds me of Ignatius J. Reilly in many ways. I would totally pay real money to read this in collected form on paper