[Old Family Dining Room, White House. Two WAITERS at the back of the room. At the head of the table is TRUMP; to his right is KID ROCK, and to his left are Chief of Staff MICK MULVANEY and Supreme Court Justice BRETT KAVANAUGH. There are a few large buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken on the table, and everyone has a plate with chicken and sides on it, but while KID ROCK is chowing down on KFC, and drinking from a champagne flute (which he refills from a bottle of Armand de Brignac Ace of Spades), KAVANAUGH is only nibbling at his chicken and drinking a Buckler, while TRUMP and MULVANEY are drinking water and not really eating.]
TRUMP: So tell me about this judge idea of yours.
KID ROCK: Okay, so like I really wanted to run for Senate against that fuckin’ bitch whatshername, but my dawgs said yo Kid, it’s rigged, you can’t win. They said maybe go small ball, run for state house or sheriff, but I said fuck that shit.
MULVANEY: Kid, tone it down, alright? You’re in the White House.
KID ROCK: [Stares silently at him; then, gesticulating in a stadium rap star manner] Well excuse the fuck me! [Gestures toward TRUMP] I came here to lay some truth on my dude the President. [To TRUMP] Who is this guy?
TRUMP: Kid, what did you have in mind?
KID ROCK: I dunno, like District Court? That’s something I could totally do, for starters.
TRUMP: How about it, Brett?
KAVANAUGH: Well, Kid, do you have any legal background?
KID ROCK: I been arrested if that’s what you mean. Listen, from what I understand, you don’t have to be a lawyer to be a judge, right? Even on the Supreme Court? [Laughs at KAVANAUGH] Looks like you wasted eight years in law school, huh buddy? So why not the Kid?
KAVANAUGH: Kid, it’s not that simple. When you’re nominated to be a federal court judge you have to be confirmed by the Senate.
KID ROCK: Well if you did it, how hard can it be? I mean you raped a chick and it was no problemo.
KAVANAUGH: [Yelling] How dare you! I did not rape anybody! Witness after witness —
TRUMP: Hey, hey, simmer down, rummy.
KID ROCK: Yeah, don’t spill your Buckler, bitch!
TRUMP: Kid knows how to talk to our people. Like he told me about that line, what is it, “My dog’d probably do it for a Louis belt.” [To KID ROCK] That’s a Louis Vuitton belt, right? A Louis belt. I thought they meant Joe Louis, like a championship belt. Boy, was I off.
KID ROCK: My maaaan! [Attempts to go up top; TRUMP ignores him.]
TRUMP: [To MULVANEY] Mick, you think we can get him through the Senate?
KID ROCK: Faggot says what?
TRUMP: [To KID ROCK] Be quiet a minute. [To MULVANEY] I don’t get it, Mick. I’m riding high with that Mueller report. I should be able to get away with anything.
MULVANEY: It’s the opposite, sir. You want people to focus on this big win, and let the Democrats come after you so you can show how persecuted you are. You don’t want to distract from that.
TRUMP: We wouldn’t do it right away.
KID ROCK: Where’s the toilet?
TRUMP: We spend some time grooming him, teach him what to say.
KID ROCK: Somebody better tell me where the toilet is, I might just piss right here.
TRUMP: [Calls to WAITER] Waiter, go tell the Marine to come in here. [WAITER exits.] Okay, Kid, your night is over.
KID ROCK: What the fuck you talking about, man?
TRUMP: [Pause. Very calmly] See, you think you and me are the same because we both started in the suburbs and got someplace. That’s why you think you can talk to everybody like this. But where I am is someplace you’ll never be, and if you don’t watch yourself, you could wind up going in the wrong direction. Drake’s not the only one got a dog who’d do it for a Louis belt.
[WAITER returns with a MARINE in full dress. KID ROCK seems to have sobered up.]
TRUMP: [To KID ROCK] That’s another thing, Bob. How come Drake is in every goddamn track these days? “Meek Mill feat Drake.” [He pronounces it “feet”] “Travis Scott feat Drake.” Kendrick, BlocBoy JB — well, I guess Drake’s a full collaborator with BlocBoy. But he’s everywhere. Why is that? I mean I like the guy but come on.
[TRUMP gestures to the MARINE, who pulls KID ROCK’s chair out. KID ROCK rises.]
TRUMP: We’ll be in touch.
[THE MARINE and KID ROCK leave. WAITER turns to go back to his position.]
KAVANAUGH: Waiter. I’ll have an IPA, please. [WAITER leaves.]
TRUMP: Yeah, drink up, rummy. Just remember who put your ass in that seat.
MULVANEY: Sir, shall I call the other candidate?
TRUMP: Relax, Bob’s not dumb. Give him a day to think things over, he’ll be fine. And I was never serious about Kanye. But the next seat opens up, we’re giving Don King a call.
[The WAITER returns and gives KAVANAUGH an IPA, which he chugs. CURTAIN.]