Return to the Winter White House

The Trumps get back to the land

© 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.]