Trump is sitting at the resolute desk, scribbling furiously with a black sharpie. Pence enters, and walks up to him. He sees that Trump is crossing out sentences in USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, People Magazine, and J-14. Everything is filled with black lines. Pence waits patiently.
Trump motions toward the open Oval door, and a white, male aid walks in.
Trump: (to the aid) I finalized the edits. Take this back for printing.
The white, male aid walks out, hands it to another white, male aid, who promptly passes it along to a third white, male aid. All of them are wearing New Balances.
Trump: (to Pence) How are my approval ratings?
Pence: You’re doing great with white supremacists, Duck Dynasty viewers, the 30 people who bought Eminem’s last album and anyone who still thinks Joe Rogan is funny.
Trump: Is that all?
Pence: Those are the only people we care about.
Trump: What if we do a fireworks show, to bump ratings? It would be yuge.
Pence: The presidency is not a reality show, Mr. President. You can’t dazzle people with your extremist rhetoric, anymore. We have to actually do work now.
Trump: What if we shot you out of a cannon, and Melania stood nearby, dressed as Betsy Ross, but you know, not looking like a tired old shrew, looking sexier, and grimaced into the camera? A sexy Betsy Ross, you coming out of a cannon, and maybe the cannon is painted like a hot dog with the works and we get Hebrew National to sponsor it. I think the people would like that.
Pence: Hebrew National would never commit. They think you’re anti-Semitic.
Trump: Then we get Ball Park Franks to do it. Screw kosher. A real American eats the whole pig, asshole and all. Man versus beast. It’s very Animal Farm, you know.
Pence: Have you read Animal Farm?
Trump: No, I paid somebody to do Eric’s book report about it when he was in grade school. It was just a bunch of stupid animals, no different than what I already know. And believe me, I know a lot. We used to have a parrot. Beautiful bird, lots of blues in its feathers. I could communicate with it.
Pence: You could communicate with it?
Trump: Oh, sure. Animals love me. They know, they sense a leader. Me and the parrot, we understood each other. It lived 30 years. Saw me through all of my marriages. Great at keeping secrets that bird. So glad they can’t talk.
Ivanka enters, carrying a stack of papers.
Ivanka: Here are the papers you asked for, Dad.
Trump: Thank you, my dear.
Ivanka: Please stop asking me to print out Madlibs for you, dad. I went to Wharton.
Trump: Ivanka, you know next week is Bring Your Kid to Work Day? What do you say – want to come spend the day with daddy in the oval?
Ivanka: It’s over, dad. You won the presidency. I don’t have to pretend to like you anymore.
She storms away, grabbing a crystal goblet of whiskey on her way out.
Trump motions for Pence to lean in.
Trump: (whispering) I think it’s that time of the month.
Both Trump and Pence make the sign of the cross.
Pence: My wife and I will say a prayer for her tonight. I can add it in between the lambasting of the gays and my request that all women who’ve had abortions be immediately swallowed into hell.
Trump: (nodding) That has a nice flow. Thank you.
Pence: Have you given any thought into who you want the new Supreme Court Justice to be?
Trump: Yes, my short list is Bruce Willis, the remains of Ronald Regan, an animatronic vulture from the Splash Mountain ride at Disney or a cardboard cutout of Robert Pattinson circa Twilight.
Pence: Pattinson? Why?
Trump: I think he’s a very nice guy, handsome guy. Really got screwed by that Kristin Stewart girl. Is she gay? Straight? I don’t know. Not attractive. She’s an odd one, no career path anymore, believe me. Robert is a good looking guy, looks a lot like I once did. Team Edward.
Pence: I don’t think we can get any of them.
Trump: Then we host an audition. Only the ones who can help me tame the lion I have chained to the columns out front get a callback. By the way, Pence, can I ask you a question, man to man?
Pence: Of course, Mr. President.
Trump: What are you?
Pence: What am I, sir?
Trump: Yeah, what are you?
Pence: I’m a Christian, sir. And I believe that anyone who does not look like, think like, or love like me is a demon, or Sarah Silverman.
Trump: No, I meant, are you a human? An alien? Because sometimes, I look at you and I think, his face just doesn’t make sense. It’s like aliens built you and said, “here, this hair looks right, this head shape looks right, let’s just laminate the face on now.” You know what, never mind.
Pence: Would you like me to place the order for your lunch, Mr. President?
Trump: Have you memorized it?
Pence: A half-pound of plain pasta noodles with butter, served with Chick-fil-A honey mustard sauce packets on the side.
Pence exits to go place the call for President Trump’s lunch. Trump pulls out his phone, and tweets, “My approval ratings are great. Highest ever, out of any president. Crooked Hillary can’t handle it, still bitter. Sad.”
He smiles, triumphant.
Fade to black. To counteract the black screen, a white, male aid has made sure there is a bold font “All Lives Matter” emblem that scrolls onto the screen. End.