[TRUMP, wearing sweatpants, a polo shirt, and athletic shoes, stalks the Oval Office. He looks like a pissy teenager, mad but unsure what to do about it. White House Chief of Staff MARK MEADOWS is back in his rictus-grin mode like a character from the Twilight Zone “It’s a Good Life” episode.]
TRUMP: ‘ja see Rudy in Philly?
MEADOWS: On TV, sir? Oh, yes, sir! He did a helluva job, really socked it to them.
TRUMP: He should be here.
MEADOWS: I can call him.
TRUMP: He should be here, you call him or not. And where’s Barr? Not answering the goddamn phone.
MEADOWS: I’m sure he’ll turn up.
TRUMP: Goddamnit, it’s like they went over the wall! I need bodies. Call Junior.
[MEADOWS gets out his cellphone.]
Wait, no.
[MEADOWS waits upon the President’s pleasure.]
I could go for a hooker. But I gotta be ready to move. My groomers ready?
MEADOWS: Oh, yes, sir, always!
[Knock at the door.]
That must be Mayor Giuliani, sir.
[MEADOWS heads to the door.]
TRUMP: “Mayor.” Y’know, that was a long time ago.
[MEADOWS opens the door and RUDOLPH GIULIANI, in his usual mob-lawyer suit, enters with six or seven children about 12 or 13 years old. They are all wearing grey khakis, polo shirts, sweater vests, and dark blazers.]
GIULIANI: Hey, here I am, home at last. We chopped a lot of wood today, boy. Lotta wood.
[GIULIANI sits on one of the couches.]
Whoa. Gotta sit.
[TRUMP stares at the kids a moment, then goes into that horrible fake grin he does.]
TRUMP: How you kids doing. You doin’ alright?
A COUPLE OF KIDS: Yes, Mr. President.
TRUMP: They feed you? We can get you food.
GIULIANI: [Puts his hand on his head] I’ve been having these dizzy spells, you know I had them as a kid. Doc thought it might be a tumor. No money to do anything. Figured I’d get better or I wouldn’t.
[Breathes deeply.]
Well, that worked out but now I wonder. Maybe I should get a CAT scan. You know I thought —
TRUMP: Hello, Rudy, over here? The President? Needs help?
GIULIANI: [Laughing, waves hand] Don’t worry, we got it all taken care of. We're putting an injunction, judge has the papers, expecting a call any minute. Lemme see if my phone’s charged.
TRUMP: Hang on a minute. [Points at kids] Who’s this?
[GIULIANI looks at the kids, at first like he’s never seen them before — then:]
GIULIANI: Ah! This is our ace. We —
[GIULIANI has trouble getting off the couch.]
Oof — sudden movement — oof — okay, here we go —
[GIULIANI bounces a few times, then heaves himself to his feet, straightening his knees with some difficulty as TRUMP stares.]
Whoo. Gettin' crotchety. OK, [claps hands] these are plaintiffs in McGillicuddy et alia v. Pennsylvania. They’re gonna swing the state for us.
[GIULIANI approaches the kids, who look at him silently.]
OK, guys, which one of you’s McGillicuddy?
[The tallest boy raises his hand.]
OK, McGillicuddy, show the President what you showed me.
[McGILLICUDDY, who looks like Jimmy Lydon in the old Henry Aldrich movies, clears his throat, steps forward, and declaims:]
McGILLICUDDY: Your honor sir! On November the Third Two Thousand and Twenty, in Reading Pennsylvania, I went to my polling place to cast a vote for DONALD TRUMP FOR PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!
[All the other kids applaud and cheer.]
But then, before I could go into the polling place, an African-American man dressed like Be-on-SAY, confronted me, and he scowled like this —
[McGILLICUDDY makes a face.]
— and I thought of all the many, many, many riots in Democrat cities where Black Lives Matter said they would fry the pigs, which means police, like bacon, which means burn them alive with violence, and I did not go to my polling place. I went home.
[McGILLICUDDY makes fists and rubs them under his eyes; in a crying voice:]
And I never got to exercise my right to vote in the Preh-si-den-shul election.
[Silence. TRUMP, whose face had become a mask of bewilderment, snaps back into a grin. To the kids:]
TRUMP: We got burgers and fries for you kids, how about that, you like burgers and fries? [Points to the door] You go through that door right there, there’s a Marine with a nice hat, he’ll take you to the lunchroom, and you get a nice meal.
[TRUMP makes a shooing gesture and walks forward, which hurries the kids, some of whom look scared, out the door.]
That’s it, that’s nice, you have a nice lunch, hurry up now it’s getting cold, go on.
[When they are gone TRUMP shuts the door. On his way back in he sees MEADOWS, seated on a chair and grinning; he makes as if to strike him, causing MEADOWS, still grinning, to cower; then he advances angrily on GIULIANI.]
Are you fucking nuts? What the fuck was that?
GIULIANI: [Cheerfully] What was that? That was our ace in the hole! That’s gonna win —
TRUMP: That kid can’t vote! None of them can vote, they’re fucking ten years old!
GIULIANI: Not true! Every one of them is of legal age.
TRUMP: Bullshit! How do you know?
GIULIANI: How? You saw the girls, right? They’re, you know, developed.
TRUMP: Fuck! Fuck! Did you even check their drivers licenses?
GIULIANI: Hey, better — I have affidavits!
TRUMP: AFFA —
[TRUMP does a massive Edgar Kennedy slow burn, ending by rubbing his hands down his face, in which process his fingers catch his hair and disarrange it, leaving a spectacular lateral mohawk. He advances on GIULIANI.]
You wop son of a bitch, I'll kill you! You fucked me!
GIULIANI: Donny, don’t get excited —
TRUMP: DON’T CALL ME DONNY!
[He grabs GIULIANI, starts to throttle him; MEADOWS, still seated, lifts his head and strains to watch, still grinning horribly; GIULIANI flails, pulls from his jacket something that looks like a bear mace canister and sprays TRUMP in the face with it. TRUMP reels back and falls heavily to the floor. GIULIANI falls too, grimacing, but pulls himself up; TRUMP, however, is down for the count. MEADOWS gets up and crosses to GIULIANI.]
GIULIANI: [Gasping] Don’t worry. Don’t worry. It’s OK. Doc gave it to me. It’s okay. Just knocks him out. Couple of minutes. Like the antidote. To, to, to, whatchamacallit, the coke.
[GUILIANI looks around.]
Shit!
[GUILIANI runs out the door. Pause. Still grinning, MEADOWS look at the prone TRUMP. He lifts his foot and puts it on TRUMP’s forehead, and rolls TRUMP’s head back and forth on the floor.]
MEADOWS: La la la la la la la .
[CURTAIN.]
Can't read any mention of Giuliani now without a paraphrase of the famous apocryphal stage direction: "Giuliani enters in the manner of one who has just tucked in his shirt."
Reading, Pa.: birthplace of Wallace Stevens.