Secret Ceremony

This was probably Bannon's idea

© 2005 Shane Evans, used under a Creative Common license

Donald Trump’s newly installed leadership team at the Republican National Committee on Monday began the process of pushing out dozens of officials, according to two people close to the Trump campaign and the RNC.

All told, the expectation is that more than 60 RNC staffers who work across the political, communications and data departments will be let go…

— Politico, “Bloodbath at RNC: Trump team slashes staff at committee”

[The Throne Room at Mar-a-Lago. Secret service agents skulk the perimeter. The room is unusually dark, with pools of light on the principals. TRUMP is wearing his Jackie-Gleason-in-Miami-Beach outfit, but with the additional of a red ceremonial sash with the Mar-a-Lago emblem on it. He stands to one side of the Supplicants’ Bench, on which is lain a purple cloth with two lit candlesticks in holders at either side, with his goons — PINSY, a young man of apparent South Asian descent whose hair appears to have been cut with a steak knife, wearing sweat pants, a “Blacks for Trump” shirt, and flip-flops; and DIBS, an elderly Trump factotum dressed, as in previous episodes, like a butler from old movies. Kneeling on the other side of the bench is celebrity murderer KYLE RITTENHOUSE, wearing camouflage pants, vest, and boonie hat with a black t-shirt and Timberland Pros. RITTENHOUSE seems never to have been to a church service nor even to know what that is, and does not adopt a prayerful attitude.]

TRUMP: Kid, ya gotta look like you’re praying.

RITTENHOUSE: For what?

TRUMP: Whattaya mean for what? ‘Cause you’re grateful! You pray ‘cause God give you a job. You never had a job, right? A real job where you punch a clock? There’s a reason for that.

RITTENHOUSE: ‘Cause I’m not a loser.

TRUMP: You know we could call the whole thing off. That what you want? Huh?

PINSY: [to RITTENHOUSE] You listen, eh?

TRUMP: Shaddap.

[TRUMP swats PINSY across the back of the head; PINSY makes a show of pain, then looks at TRUMP and shakes his fists in front of his face like a child pretending to box a grownup.]

[To PINSY] Stifle. [To RITTENHOUSE] Take your hat off.

[RITTENHOUSE does.]

Now put your hands up like this.

[TRUMP folds his hands in front of his chest. RITTENHOUSE does the same.]

OK. Now what Dibs says, you say. Let’s go, Dibs.

DIBS: [Reading off a piece of paper in a raspy voice] I do solemnly swear.

[Pause.]

RITTENHOUSE: I swear.

TRUMP: The whole thing! Jesus Christ, it’s four words! Dibs! Again!

DIBS: [Slower] I do solemnly swear.

RITTENHOUSE: I do sal-am-en-y swear.

DIBS: That I will be faithful.

RITTENHOUSE: That I will be faithful.

DIBS: To Donald Trump.

RITTENHOUSE: To Donald Trump.

DIBS: I will be loyal and brave.

RITTENHOUSE: I will be loyal and brave.

DIBS: Obedient unto death.

RITTENHOUSE: Obedient unto, unto death.

DIBS: To Donald Trump and those he appoints to lead.

RITTENHOUSE: To Donald Trump and those he appoints to lead

DIBS: So help me God.

RITTENHOUSE: So help me God.

TRUMP: OK, get up. Arise, I mean.

[RITTENHOUSE does so. TRUMP reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out something and pins it on RITTENHOUSE’s vest.]

TRUMP: OK, you’re in. Now what are we gonna do with him?

[TRUMP looks around.]

The fuck? [Calls] Donnie!

[Pause.]

[Yells] HEY FUCKFACE!

[There’s a loud clattering behind the staircase to the throne. Emerging, rubbing his unshaven face, is DONALD TRUMP JR., wearing this ridiculous navy herring open button overcoat with the middle two buttons done up over a white shirt, blue jeans, and cowboy boots.]

TRUMP: Asleep? We’re havin’ a ceremony here.

JUNIOR: Sorry, Pop.

TRUMP: [To DIBS and PINSY] Up all night with whores is what it is. [To JUNIOR] I told you leave the waitresses alone. I get complaints!

JUNIOR: [Sneering a little] Not from the waitresses.

TRUMP: Yeah, the waitresses! You make ‘em sick. Only the illegals let you fuck them ‘cause they’re scared we’ll send ‘em back to Guatemala.

[JUNIOR looks around quickly, moves close to TRUMP.]

JUNIOR: [Quietly] Pop, please, not here in front of these people.

TRUMP: You smell like an old cigar. You got it in your pocket like a bum?

[TRUMP backhands JUNIOR’s lapel.]

And what the fuck is this thing? You look like a major domo. OK, this is business, the kid signed up, we gotta know where to put him.

JUNIOR: [Giving RITTENHOUSE side-eye] Put him in the canal for all I care.

TRUMP: Hey. Hey. Look, you’re all set. Nobody’s taking nothin’ from you, OK? You’re my boy. Be nice. We got rid of the dead weight, now we gotta get our people in there. Maybe we give this kid some little job like comptroller.

JUNIOR: How come he gets to be comptroller?

TRUMP: [Gently] You don’t know what a comptroller is, do you?

JUNIOR: [Sullenly] No. It sounds badass though.

TRUMP: Believe me, it’s nothing compared to what you got, OK? We’re the Royal Family and all these comptrollers and groupie-fuhrers and lord high executioners, they’re like the muscle, see? Now go over to that kid and shake his hand and say congrats.

[He gestures to RITTENHOUSE, and notices he is immersed in a Lenovo Legion handheld gaming console.]

[To RITTENHOUSE] What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t pay attention five minutes? Hah? You got ADHGTV? Hey!

[RITTENHOUSE apparently doesn’t notice this is directed at him.]

[To DIBS and PINSY] You believe this? [To JUNIOR] Go tell this little shit to pay attention.

JUNIOR: Sure thing, Pop!

[JUNIOR walks over to RITTENHOUSE and smacks him across the back of the head.]

Hey, fuckface, heads up!

[RITTENHOUSE reels back, then reaches into his pants and hauls out nunchucks and swings them at JUNIOR’s head. JUNIOR ducks and runs behind the staircase. RITTENHOUSE walks in that direction, but DIBS get ahead of him and solidly punches RITTENHOUSE, who collapses. JUNIOR peers from behind the staircase, sees what happened, runs to his father.]

JUNIOR: Pop, c’mon, let’s feed him to the fishes.

TRUMP: Sorry, kid — we need the youth vote.

[Minsky pickup, curtain.]