The Donahues Episode 234

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Donald Trump speaks in Vermont, and Ryan is forced to accompany Amber to his speech, but plots to embarrass the Republican front-runner. Meanwhile, Ethan and Norman must save an outraged Mosque account and Jacob is informed that his job is at risk

Submitted: January 07, 2016

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Submitted: January 07, 2016

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THE DONAHUES

 

“MAKE HANSBAY GREAT AGAIN”

 

TV-MA DLV

 

“I don’t need no one to follow, feathers full, get up early just to charm unwaking souls. When the sea called me home. I can’t swim, it’s lucidity! So clear”

  • Julia Holter

 

(We cut to Ethan on the phone in his office)

 

ETHAN: Hi, Norman, I just wanted to touch bases with you.

 

NORMAN: (On the phone) It’s “touch base”, Ethan. I don’t want to, touch bases with you.

 

ETHAN: What are you talking about? Just let me touch your base for a second, okay?

 

NORMAN: Oh my God.

 

ETHAN: The people at that mosque that we signed-

 

NORMAN: Islamic Community Center.

 

ETHAN: Whatever, they’re furious!

 

NORMAN: Why?

 

ETHAN: Well, first off, we sent them vending machines with foods in them that are not halal.

 

NORMAN: What is “halal”?

 

ETHAN: Let’s just say, there were pork rinds in the vending machines we sent to a mosque.

 

NORMAN: Oh, right. Shit. Well, hey, we all know that’s not real pork.

 

ETHAN: Unfortunately, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Due to a mix up, the alcoholic vending machines you approved were accidentally sent to that Mosque instead of the Flynn Center. And the vending machines that dispense Arab foods and drinks were sent to the Flynn Center instead.

 

NORMAN: Oh my God.

 

ETHAN: How do I fix this?!

 

NORMAN: First, correct these problems. Secondly, get a client dinner together where you apologize to these Muslims guys.

 

ETHAN: This is a huge mistake, I think you need to be at the dinner too. Where are you right now?

 

(Cut to Norman lounging by a pool. There is a sign behind him reading “??? ???? ??????” and then “?? ??????? ?? ??????” and finally “No Lifeguard On Duty”)

 

NORMAN: Uh…don’t get mad when I tell you this.

 

ETHAN: (On phone) What?

 

NORMAN: I’m kind of…at an Israeli hotel in the West Bank.

 

ETHAN: ….YOU’RE IN THE OCCUPIED TERRITORIES?!

 

NORMAN: You promised you wouldn’t freak.

 

ETHAN: NO I DIDN’T!! Norman, why the hell are you in Palestine?!

 

NORMAN: Hey! Israel got these in the Six-Day War! It’s rightfully theirs! And it’s because I had frequent flier miles to spend and I love Jewish women. (A Jewish woman serves Norman a Manischewitz) Thank you, Ruth.

 

ETHAN: Norman, if the guys at the Mosque find out about this, we’re screwed! Get back to the U.S. as fast as possible!

 

NORMAN: But me and some friends were gonna go get circumcised and then meet some hookers at the Wailing Wall.

 

ETHAN: COME BACK, NORMAN!

 

NORMAN: Fine! Fine! I’ll tell Netanyahu and the boys to call it off.

 

(Norman hangs up. Cut to Ethan in his office, with the phone to his ear)

 

ETHAN: …There’s no way that’s the same-no, Netanyahu must be like “Johnson” over there. (Ethan puts his phone away. He then opens a drawer and takes out a small bottle of vodka) …No, don’t do it Ethan, remember the twelve steps. (Ethan puts the gin back in the drawer. Pan to a sign hung on the wall reading “Twelve Steps For Making The Perfect Bloody Mary”, and 12 steps are listed thereafter) That’s way too many steps, I don’t have time for that.

 

(Ethan leaves. Cut to Amber driving her truck, with Ryan in the passenger seat, looking out the window, appearing annoyed)

 

AMBER: …What is it, Ryan?

 

RYAN: What do you think?! We’re going to a Donald Trump rally because your parents want you to!

 

AMBER: Well, it’d be a good way to redeem yourself after you made a bad impression on them at my farm.

 

RYAN: Your father showed me a cow corpse lodged under his corvette! And then his secret black murderer son!

 

AMBER: All they want is a selfie with me, you and Donald. I won’t post it on any social media, trust me. I don’t like doing that anyway, because I always look ugly in pictures.

 

RYAN: You’re a Pageant Model.

 

AMBER: A retired pageant model. And trust me, they put so much make-up on me back then that they made me look nine when I was an unappealing thirteen. Ugh. I had not aged well.

 

RYAN: Jesus, that pageant shit fucked you up, huh?

 

AMBER: Why do you think I’m retired?

 

(Cut to Ryan and Amber walking towards the Flynn Center, amongst a crowd of hundreds of other people. The marquee on the building says “DONALD TRUMP- JAN 7 2016 @ 7PM, HERNANDEZ FAMILY QUINCENEARA @ 8PM”. Cut to Chris Hayes hosting a live All In with Chris Hayes outside the Flynn Center. Lawrence O’Donnell is sitting near him)

 

CHRIS HAYES: Here we are in Burlington, Vermont, as throngs of people gather to see Donald Trump speak at the Flynn Center. Crowd estimates range from 2,000 to 5 million. That last estimate was posted on Trump’s Twitter account…about four hours ago.

 

(Ryan and Amber walk over and get in front of the camera)

 

RYAN: Oh my God, it’s Chris Hayes!

 

CHRIS HAYES: Hey, hey Ryan.

 

RYAN: Dude, is this that show you do?

 

CHRIS HAYES: Yeah, yeah, man, I just do it for the-for the shroom money. I like to smoke ‘em up.

 

AMBER: How do you know this guy, Ryan?

 

RYAN: He goes to our college, Amber!

 

AMBER: Really?!

 

RYAN: Yeah!
 

AMBER: He looks, like, seventeen years old!

 

(Chris Hayes clears his throat)

 

CHRIS HAYES: I’m turning nineteen next month.

 

LAWRENCE: Chris, can you tell these people to leave?

 

CHRIS HAYES: Larry, I didn’t peg you for a narc. I’m taking a vape break.

 

(Chris Hayes takes out an e-cigarette and vapes from it, and then hops on a hover-board and rolls away. Cut to Ryan and Amber in line for the Trump event)

 

RYAN: We just show them tickets, right?

 

AMBER: I’m pretty sure.

 

(Amber walks up to the man taking tickets at the door)

 

TICKET TAKER: Can I see your ticket? (Ryan shows the man his ticket) Do you support Donald Trump for the Republican nomination for President?

 

RYAN: Excuse me?

 

TICKET TAKER: Do you support Donald Trump for the Republican nomination for President in 2016? You have to say “yes” in order to gain admittance.

 

(Ryan looks at Amber, and Amber nods. Ryan gulps and closes his eyes)

 

RYAN: Yes.

 

TICKET TAKER: Okay, you may enter.

 

(Ryan enters the room)

 

AMBER: Here’s my ticket. I’m with him.

 

(Amber shows the man her ticket)

 

TICKET TAKER: Do you support Donald Trump for the Republican Nomination for President in 2016?

 

(Amber sighs)

 

AMBER: Yes.

 

TICKET TAKER: Additional question, are you on your period? You were randomly selected to be asked this. For security purposes.

 

(Cut to Ryan and Amber in the venue where Trump is supposed to speak. They are sitting down in the seats, as people take their seats and Flynn Center employees set up)

 

RYAN: So why is Trump in Vermont? Doesn’t he know this is Bernie’s turf? And also one of the most liberal states in the country?

 

AMBER: Hey, we’re also very white. It’s kind of Trump’s market. Plus, we’re right next to New Hampshire.

 

RYAN: Fine, maybe he does have a reason to be here. But I don’t. Unless I can make a stand against this racist asshole.

 

AMBER: Ryan, no! No stands! If my parents hear about it on the news, they’re going to pull me out of college!
 

RYAN: …Really?!

 

AMBER: Well…maybe? I don’t know, I’ve never tested those limits. But they seem to be very liberal with that threat.

 

(Cut to Amber eating a banana in the kitchen of her ranch. Ray comes in)

 

RAY: Amber, that banana’s going to go right to your hips. How is that good for the pageant? Throw it up or I’m pulling you out of college.

 

(Cut back to Ryan and Amber)

 

RYAN: …I haven’t been speechless in a long time.

 

AMBER: Sometimes he would say “don’t make me get the whip”.

 

RYAN: The whip?

 

AMBER: THE BELT! The belt, I said.

 

RYAN: …I’m gonna go to the bathroom. ‘Kay?

 

(Ryan gets up and walks away. Cut to Donald Trump in a green room, looking over some papers)

 

DONALD: Corey! Corey, get over here!
 

(Trump’s campaign manager, Corey Lewandowski, comes over)

 

COREY: Yes, Mr. Trump?

 

DONALD: Where’s my damn speech?! This is all just a bunch of blank paper!

 

(Donald holds up the blank papers)

 

COREY: Sir, you never have a speech prepared. Ever. You always just start talking until they either ask us to leave, or the venue is burned down.

 

DONALD: Oh, right. (Donald tosses the papers aside) Alright, get that pale kid to get me a Fresca from the vending machine.

 

(Donald hands Corey some bills)

 

COREY: Yes sir. (Corey walks away. Cut to Ryan walking towards the bathroom. Corey sticks his head out of the green room door) Hey you, pale kid!
 

(Ryan turns around)

 

RYAN: …Yeah?

 

COREY: Please get Mr. Trump a Fresca from the vending machine.

 

RYAN: Oh, I…will do that immediately, sir.

 

COREY: Great, here’s some money.

 

(Corey hands Ryan two fives and two twenties)

 

RYAN: …How much does Mr. Trump think soda costs?

 

COREY: Between you and me, I’m skimming off the top. Now hurry up.

 

(Ryan nods and walks away. He smiles to himself. He goes over to a vending machine with the fifty dollars, but sees that some workers are putting it on a dolly)

 

RYAN: Whoa, what’s going on here?!

 

WORKER: They told us to replace these vending machines with these alcoholic vending machines.

 

RYAN: Wait, but I just wanted a Fresca!

 

WORKER 2: Here, you can have mine, kid. I think it’s kind of overrated.

 

(The worker hands Ryan his Fresca)

 

RYAN: Thanks, but, I’m like twenty. You don’t have to call me kid.

 

(The worker tousles Ryan’s hair)

 

WORKER 2: Get good grades.

 

(They wheel off the vending machine and replace it with an alcoholic vending machine. Suddenly, Ryan’s eyes light up)

 

RYAN: HEY! Worker number 2!
 

(Worker turns around)

 

WORKER: I have a name, thank you!

 

(The worker points to his name tag which says “Mork Too”)

 

RYAN: Sorry, Mork, but, if you care for me so much, will you let me use your I.D. for this vending machine?

 

(Mork steps closer)

 

MORK: I don’t know you that well, kid, but…you are like a son I never had. So, yes, go ahead.

 

(Mork hands Ryan his I.D.)

 

RYAN: Thanks, man. You look good for forty-nine.

 

MORK: Oh, no, that’s a fake I.D. I use so my son can’t find me. My real name’s George.

 

RYAN: …So you DO have a son-you know what, never mind. I just hope this works. (Ryan puts the ID to scanner, and the LED display reads “APPROVED”) Yes! Thanks, man.

 

(Ryan gives Mork his I.D. back)

 

MORK: Thanks. If a kid named Alec asks about someone named George, say “huh? What? George? I certainly don’t know who that is or anything!” And be sure to rub your neck and look around a lot.

 

(Mork winks and runs off. Ryan shakes his head and selects a mini-bottle of Vodka, which the machine then dispenses. Ryan takes the bottle and pours out half the Fresca into a nearby trash can. He then pours a bunch of vodka into the Fresca can. He then shakes it around and walks to the green room, and knocks on the door. Corey opens the door, and Ryan offers the Fresca to Corey)

 

RYAN: Here’s Mr. Trump’s Fresca, already opened it for him.

 

(Ryan smiles and flips his hair aside)

 

COREY: How nice of you. Thanks-what’s your name?

 

RYAN: My name is, Alec. Alec is my name.

 

COREY: Thanks, Alec. That’ll be all.

 

(Ryan nods, and Corey closes the door. Ryan smiles and walks away. Then, a pale, red-haired teenager comes out of the bathroom and walks over to the door)

 

PALE KID: Mr. Lewandowski? I’m ready to do Mr. Trump’s bidding, sir! Mr. Lewandowski?

 

(Cut to Corey handing Donald the Fresca)

 

DONALD: Thank you, you’re the best, Corey. (Donald takes a sip, but then recoils in disgust) What the hell is this?!
 

COREY: What, sir?

 

DONALD: There is booze in here, Corey! For Christ’s sake, you know I haven’t drank since Fred died!
 

COREY: I’m so sorry, sir, that pale kid must’ve spiked your drink with booze or something! He did give it to me already opened.

 

DONALD: And you just LET me drink it?!

 

COREY: Sir, I’m sorry, it’s just that Stephen Baldwin has become awfully sick from being your Royal Tester!

 

(Pan to Stephen Baldwin hunched over a trash can, with vomit dripping from the side of his mouth)

 

STEPHEN BALDWIN: I would do anything for you, Mr. Tru-

 

(Stephen vomits into the trash can. Pan back to Donald and Corey)

 

DONALD: Bring that little shit in here. It’s time to teach him a lesson.

 

COREY: Yes sir. (Corey leaves. Cut to Ryan coming out of the bathroom. Corey stands before him) Alec, is it?

 

(Ryan gasps)

 

RYAN: Yes! Sorry, you startled me.

 

COREY: Mr. Trump would like to see you.

 

(Ryan gulps)

 

RYAN: Dope.

 

(Ryan comes with Corey, and Corey brings him into Donald Trump’s green room. Ryan sits across from Mr. Trump, and Corey sits to the side)

 

DONALD: What’s this kid’s name, Corey?

 

COREY: Alec.

 

(Stephen Baldwin perks up)

 

STEPHEN: Alec?! Where is that son of a bitch-

 

DONALD: Not your idiot brother, Stephen, now shut up and test that croissant.

 

(Stephen picks up a croissant)

 

STEPHEN: But they’re ALL poisoned, sir!!

 

(Stephen cries as he takes a bite of the croissant)

 

DONALD: Now listen. You messed with the wrong Donald, here, pale kid. You’re a little more Goth than I remember you, but you’re a teen, I get it, your identity fluctuates. But what I don’t get is this. (Donald slams the Fresca on the table) Why the hell’d you do this? Who do you work for? China? Do you work for the Chinese?! HE WORKS FOR THE CHINESE!!

 

RYAN: Sir! Please calm down! Give me a chance to explain myself!

 

DONALD: Fine. The Donald’s a merciful man. Go ahead. Explain yourself.

 

RYAN: Well, sir, I just feel like, sometimes when you speak, you hold back too much. I thought this might loosen you up, so that you can tell America what it needs to hear. I’m such a huge fan of your campaign, but it’d be a pity if you held anything back any longer, sir. America needs to hear about your final solution to all our various questions, like you know, our broken infrastructure.

 

(Donald sits back)

 

DONALD: This is the most proactive young man I have ever seen. Why can’t Stephen Baldwin be this proactive? Huh?

 

STEPHEN: YOU KNOW I’VE GOTTEN MY STOMACH PUMPED TEN TIMES IN THE LAST WEEK, RIGHT?!

 

DONALD: Shush. Alec, you are absolutely right. America needs to hear me unhinged. I mean, unhindered, by political correctness. (Donald chugs the Fresca. Ryan smirks) If this loosens me up, so be it. America needs to hear the truth.

 

RYAN: I am so glad you’ve taken my advice, sir. Go out there and make our country proud.

 

DONALD: Before I do- (Donald stands up) we should take a picture together, so we can post it to the campaign Twitter feed. That’s how much I admire you.

 

(Ryan becomes nervous)

 

RYAN: Oh, you don’t have to do that-

 

DONALD: Please. I insist.

 

(Ryan reluctantly gets up and poses with Donald Trump, as Corey takes out a camera and snaps a photo of the two. Cut to Jacob in his office at the Sullivan Hotel, typing on his computer. Laura comes in)

 

LAURA: Morning, Jacob.

 

JACOB: S’up, Laura?

 

(Laura sighs, and sits down)

 

LAURA: Jacob, corporate is concerned.

 

JACOB: About what?

 

LAURA: Well, it’s just…we just had our best quarter on record. And projections for 2016 are looking very good.

 

JACOB: Well, that is alarming.

 

LAURA: Jacob, it’s alarming for corporate, because you’ve been a very successful assistant director for this property. This while our other properties are slumping.

 

JACOB: Still not seeing the downside here.

 

LAURA: Mr. Pullman has heard whispers of them promoting you PAST his position.

 

JACOB: Oh my God. (Jacob puts his pen down) That’s incredible, I don’t even have a college degree. And I lost my High School degree in a sewer.

 

LAURA: It is incredible, for you. But Pullman sees it as a threat. He wants you neutralized.

 

JACOB: He wants me to be killed? JUST when I bought these- (Jacob holds up a pair of Fox sneakers) Fox sneakers?

 

LAURA: We all know those are bad shoes, Jacob. Come on. You’re almost 22.

 

(Jacob puts the shoes aside)

 

JACOB: I can’t afford to lose this job if I want to pay my mom back for those babies. How the hell would he convince corporate that it’s okay to fire me?

 

LAURA: I’d say, be on the watch for a good framing.

 

JACOB: Damn, what do I do

 

LAURA: Go to corporate. Tell them Pullman’s plan before you get framed. They know how paranoid he is, they’ll believe you.

 

(Jacob nods)

 

JACOB: You sure that’s a good idea?

 

LAURA: Positive.

 

JACOB: …Okay, I guess I’ll call them. (Jacob takes out his cell phone. Cut to Jacob wearing a suit, smoking a cigarette outside an office building in Burlington) You gotta believe me, Pullman is after me-oh God, is that him right now?! Oh no, it’s not. Yeah, that’ll really bring the sense of urgency home. (Jacob finishes his cigarette and puts it out with his foot on the sidewalk. He then combs his hair back) Got my power suit on, carcinogens in my lungs, and a skip in my step. It’s time to save my job.

 

(Jacob walks into the building. Cut to the Sullivan Hotel’s Board of Directors in a board room. Cut to a board member with the placard reading “Ashley Morrison” in front of her)

 

ASHLEY: What do you think Mr. Donahue wants to discuss that couldn’t be discussed over the phone?

 

BRIDGETTE: I have no idea. But it better be good. I have a child beauty pageant to judge.

 

(A secretary comes in)

 

SECRETARY: Mr. Donahue is here.

 

ASHLEY: Send him in.

 

(The secretary leaves and Jacob comes in and goes over and shakes Ashley’s hand)

 

JACOB: Nice to see you, Mrs. Morrison.

 

ASHLEY: Pleasure.

 

(Jacob shakes Bridgette’s hand, and then everyone else’s hand)

 

KEITH: Please, have a seat, Mr. Donahue.

 

(Jacob sits down)

 

JACOB: I’m glad you asked. I’m here today, because Mr. Pullman is out to get me. (Jacob nods furiously) I stayed up really late last night compiling this rough, mostly off-the-cuff spiel. (Jacob loosens his tie) Is it hot in here to anyone else? Can that secretary guy turn the temperature down at all?

 

ASHLEY: Mr. Donahue, what do you mean by “Mr. Pullman is out to get” you?

 

JACOB: I’ve heard from reliable sources that Mr. Pullman is trying to get me fired because he feels I’m a threat to his job. (Jacob pulls out a lighter and puts a cigarette in his mouth) You gotta believe me, he is after my head.

 

BRIDGETTE: Mr. Donahue, you can’t smoke in here.

 

JACOB: Oh, of course, I’m sorry. (Jacob puts away his cigarette) I’m just nervous about meetings like these. I feel like Mr. Pullman could sneak up at any time-oh God, is that him right now?! (Mr. Pullman comes in with a manila folder) Oh wow, it actually is.

 

MR. PULLMAN: Oh, Jacob, I’m glad you’re here. Mrs. Morrison, Mrs. Langevin, Mr. Pingree, this is my letter of recommendation for Jacob Donahue to be promoted to manager of the Sullivan Hotel’s Hansbay property.

 

(Mr. Pullman smiles. Cut to Jacob. His mouth opens so wide in shock, that his cigarette falls out. Cut to the board, who look very skeptical and uncomfortable)

 

KEITH: …Right….

 

(Cut to Laura in her office, writing something down on a piece of paper. Jacob storms in)

 

JACOB: You bitch!

 

(Laura holds up her hands and smiles smugly)

 

LAURA: Hey…let’s not jump to conclusions.

 

JACOB: You set me up! You knew they were going to replace you with me, so you made up this story to make me look paranoid in front of my superiors!

 

LAURA: Yeah, well, sorry Jake, it’s a Hotel Manager-eat-Assistant Director of Hotel Operations world.

 

JACOB: DON’T CALL ME JAKE!

 

LAURA: Well, don’t call me “bitch”, then. You’re fired. (Jacob shakes his head, takes off his nametag and puts it on the desk. Jacob turns around to leave) Don’t forget your Hotel-issued Taser.

 

(Jacob turns around, takes a Sullivan Hotel taser out of his pocket and slams it on the desk)

 

JACOB: You know what, Laura? Someday, I’ll fire you.

 

(Jacob turns around and leaves. Cut to Ethan at a table in a fancy restaurant, wearing a suit. A waiter comes over)

WAITER: Can I get you something to drink, while you wait for your guest, sir?

 

ETHAN: Yes, I’ll have a white Russian-actually, that’s probably a bad call. Get me a weird Arab tea or something.

 

WAITER: Yes sir.

 

(The Waiter leaves. An Imam with two other Muslims by his side walks over, looking angry. Ethan stands up and extends his hand)

 

ETHAN: Abdul, Fazul, Chris, great to see you again. (Fazul, Abdul and Chris each reluctantly shake Ethan’s hand and sit down. Ethan sits down and holds Abdul’s hand from across the table) Thank you so much for coming, I really appreciate it. I first just want to apologize for the mix-up that happened when we sent you the wrong vending machines. I assure you, everything we send you will be halal from now on-

 

ABDUL: (Arabic accent) What are you doing?

 

ETHAN: …Pardon?

 

ABDUL: Why are you holding my hand?

 

ETHAN: …I had read this was customary in your culture.

 

ABDUL: When we’re walking side by side, yes. But not across the table.

 

(Ethan puts his hands up)

 

ETHAN: So sorry. Sorry about that. (Ethan puts his hands down) Um, as I was saying, it will never happen again, and we look forward to continuing this relationship, complication-free.

 

ABDUL: …Fine.

 

(Abdul extends his hand, and Ethan is about to shake it, when Fazul takes out his iPad)

 

FAZUL: Hold on, Imam Abdul, I just got sent a link to a picture you might want to take a look at.

 

(Abdul puts down his hand, and Ethan retracts his hand, concerned. Fazul shows Abdul something on his iPad)

 

ABDUL: Oh my.

 

ETHAN: What?

 

ABDUL: You have a son, yes?

 

ETHAN: Of course, you met when we toured the mosque earlier this week.

 

(Abdul shows Ethan a picture on Twitter of Ryan and Donald Trump)

 

ABDUL: What is he doing with this Islamaphobic monster?!

 

ETHAN: …Oh, dear God.

 

(Cut to Amber in her seat, checking the time on her phone)

 

AMBER: Where the hell is Ryan?! It’s going to start any time!

 

(Ryan runs over and sits next to Amber)

 

RYAN: Sorry about that.

 

AMBER: Where were you!? You weren’t doing a bump in the bathroom, right?

 

RYAN: A bump of what?! I never did coke.

 

AMBER: Then why did you have a coke nail?

 

RYAN: X comes in powder form too, Amber. But forget about that for a second, because when Trump comes out, it’s gonna be a train wreck.

 

AMBER: Well, it always is. He’s not a gentleman.

 

RYAN: But more than usual this time, you see, I got him drunk.

 

AMBER: How?!

 

RYAN: One of this aides asked me to get him Fresca, so I poured some vodka into it, and now he’s gonna embarrass himself so bad that his campaign will be done for.

 

AMBER: He could come out here and slap someone’s toddler for being loud and his poll numbers wouldn’t go down, you have to know by now he’s invincible.

 

RYAN: Maybe so, but I won’t pass up a chance to embarrass him. So here we go.

 

(Donald Trump stumbles drunk onto the stage and gets behind the podium, as the crowd erupts into applause. Amber stands up and applauds, but Ryan stays seated)

 

DONALD: Thank youuuu!!! Thank you, Vermont! Please! Please! Everybody sit down real quick. (The applause dies down and people take their seats) I, I, um, I am so goddamn glad to be back in Vermont. I haven’t been here since that deal to rename Lake Champlain Trump Ocean fell through. I swear, it’s been a really long time. I think I had a winter home here at one point, or maybe I still do, but I’ve forgotten about it. I hope Jeff doesn’t still take care of it for me, because I am no longer sending him checks. (Donald stops to hold in a burp, and then goes back to speaking) Let me tell you something, there was a fine- (Donald shakes his head and closes his eyes) fine young man that has inspired me tonight. He has inspired me to not hold back anymore. How’s that sound? (Applause and cheering) Thank you. Because I know you’ve been waiting to hear Trump unfiltered. So here we go. With everything that’s going on in this world-did you hear about Iran and Saudi Arabia? Saudi Arabia executed one of Iran’s clerics, and then those terrorists in Iran brutally attacked the Saudi Arabian embassy! It’s like, man, Iranians are against the death penalty, no wonder they like Obama so much. (Applause and laughter) And then, Saudi Arabia cuts off relations with Iran! I mean, these Muslims, who do they fuckin’ hate more, us or each other?! (Applause and laughter) I TELL YOU WHO, CHINA! (Silence) But another thing though, with all these threats and all these unstable situations, guess who wins? Nobody! Except for the Chinese! So let me tell ya, no filters, no strings attached, I have a thing for my daughter, and also, expel all the Muslims who already live here! (The audience gasps. They then look around, and all applaud, except for Ryan and Amber) Put them on a ship! Tell them to steer it, because who cares where they go, really? As long as they don’t stay here! Actually, scratch that, putting them together makes it easier for them to organize and plot, let’s shoot them out of a cannon one by one!

 

(Uproarious applause. Cut to outside the Flynn Center. There are a multitude of Muslim protestors, holding up signs like “DUMP TRUMP” and “HATE SPEECH IS NOT GR8 SPEECH” and “SOME TRUMP SUPPORTERS, I ASSUME, ARE NICE PEOPLE”. They are watching coverage of the speech on their iPads)

 

MUSLIM PROTESTOR: That son of a bitch.

 

MUSLIM PROTESTOR 2: That’s it. This time he’s gone too far.

 

MUSLIM PROTESTOR: What do you think we should do?

 

MUSLIM PROTESTOR 2: We have to get in there, make our voices heard.

 

MUSLIM PROTESTOR: ALLAHU AKBAR!

 

(They storm the Flynn Center. Cut to Ryan and Amber sitting inside, listening to Donald Trump speak)

 

DONALD: And I just want to thank that kid for giving me the courage to be straightforward with you folks here today. His name is Alec, Alec, if you’re out there, please stand up.

 

(Ryan sits low in his chair, as the audience members look around. Cut to Mork, in the back of the room, quickly leaving it)

 

AMBER: (Whispering) Alec? Really?

 

DONALD: Where is he? Well, maybe he’s in the john. Let me get back to how 90% of abortion doctors are Mexicans-

 

AMBER: (Whispering) Ryan, this is too painful to watch. He’s embarrassing himself, and quite frankly, humanity up there.

 

RYAN: (Whispering) It serves him right. I gave him that alcohol as payback. He is a disgusting, fascist Islamophobe who thinks all Muslims are terrorists, and I will not stand for that-

 

(The Muslim protestors breach through the back door)

 

MUSLIM PROTESTOR: ALLAHU AKBAR!

 

RYAN: MY GOD, IT’S TERRORISTS, RUN!!!

 

(Ryan and Amber make a dash for the exit as panic spreads in the crowd, and numerous people dash for the exits. Donald leans into the microphone)

 

DONALD: GUYS, I DIDN’T MEAN ANY OF IT!!! NOT A SINGLE WORD!!

 

(Donald runs backstage. Meanwhile, the Muslim protestors are just standing there, confused. Cut to Ryan and Amber leaving the building through an emergency exit. He sees a Muslim man standing outside, wearing a turban and vaping. Multitudes of people continually run out of the exit door as they stand there)

 

RYAN: THEY’RE GUARDING THE EXITS, I’LL TAKE HIM!

 

MUSLIM MAN: What?

 

(Ryan tackles the man and begins wailing on him with punches. He takes his E-cig away and throws it to Amber)

 

RYAN: TOSS THAT SOMEWHERE, IT MIGHT BE A BOMB!!

 

(Amber tosses it in the bushes)

 

AMBER: RYAN, WHERE DO WE GO?!

 

RYAN: LEAVE ME! SAVE YOURSELF, I’LL TAKE CARE OF THE TERRORISTS!

 

AMBER: REALLY?!
 

RYAN: NO, TAKE ME WITH YOU!! (Amber grabs Ryan and they flee the scene. Cut to Amber driving away from the Flynn Center, with Ryan in the passenger seat) Holy shit, that was close.

 

AMBER: Who do you think that was?! ISIS?

 

RYAN: Maybe. Leaving one guy to guard the exit with nothing but a vape bomb sounds like them. (Ryan takes out his phone, which is ringing) Oh look, my dad’s calling me. (Ryan answers) S’up dad?

 

ETHAN: (On the phone) Ryan, why in God’s name is there a picture of you with Donald Trump on Twitter?

 

RYAN: Why? Aren’t you proud of me? For once in your life?

 

ETHAN: EXPLAIN!
 

RYAN: Jesus, relax, just, Amber dragged me to a Trump rally at the Flynn Center, and they mistook me for his aide, so I got him some Fresca, but I poured vodka into it so he would make an ass out of himself. Apparently he appreciated the initiative?

 

ETHAN: Oh my God, Trump’s at the Flynn Center today? Ryan, that’s one of our clients!

 

RYAN: So?

 

ETHAN: My other client is a mosque!
 

RYAN: Oh. Well. Good luck with that.

 

ETHAN: It’s fine, it’s fine, I think your explanation will help me. See ya at home tonight.

 

RYAN: No. No, you haven’t lived at my home for some time.

 

ETHAN: I might make a drunken visit at 2am to re-connect with you.

 

RYAN: Please don’t.

 

ETHAN: It’s happening. Bye.

 

RYAN: Oh, and one more thing-

 

(Ethan hangs up. Cut to Ethan in the bathroom of the restaurant, having just hung up. He puts his phone away, fixes his hair in the mirror, and leaves the bathroom. Cut to him walking over to the table where all the Muslims are sitting. Ethan sits down)

 

ETHAN: Well, sirs, I got to the bottom of this. I’ve determined it was an inside job. I mean-let me re-phrase that. My son pretended to be an intern for the Trump campaign, and he got him to drink alcohol so he would embarrass himself. Even more so than usual.

 

(The Muslims smile)

 

ABDUL: Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.

 

(Ethan, Abdul, Fazul and Chris all laugh)

 

ETHAN: Certainly not, so why don’t we put this behind us?

 

ABDUL: …We can certainly do that.

 

ETHAN: Great.

 

(Ethan, Abdul, Fazul and Chris stand up. They all start shaking hands as Norman walks into the restaurant wearing a Hawaiian shirt)

 

NORMAN: Hey, Fazdul, Abzul, and Chris! What’s shakin’ you guys? Just got back from a trip to Hawaii. Man, was it sunny there. Got drunk as hell. (Ethan glares at Norman) Or, I got drunk as whatever you guys believe in.

 

(Ethan puts his hand on Norman’s shoulder)

 

ETHAN: Man, this guy loves to joke, huh?

 

FAZUL: Yes, indeed he does.

 

ETHAN: We’ll see you guys soon.

 

(Cut to Renee holding the eight-month old Kyle Donahue in her arms while sitting on the couch in Jacob and Renee’s apartment. Jacob comes in)

 

RENEE: Hey, Jacob, how’d your day go?

 

JACOB: I got a promotion-

 

(Renee stands up)

 

RENEE: That’s amazing!

 

JACOB: Shouldn’t have started the sentence that way, I got a promotion, but then I got fired.

 

RENEE: What?! How?!

 

JACOB: That bitch Laura set me up. (Jacob sits down on the couch, and Renee sits next to him) She told me that Pullman was trying to get me fired, when really she was. And she succeeded once I pleaded with the board to prevent Pullman from getting me fired. You see, he was really trying to promote me to Laura’s position.

 

RENEE: Oh my God. So then who fired you?

 

JACOB: Laura. For calling her a bitch.

 

RENEE: Maybe you should’ve kept your head down.

 

JACOB: Fuck her. I knew she didn’t think much of me to begin with, because I’m an ex-con with quite frankly, shocking good looks.

 

RENEE: Well…I still have my Sunday school job, so we could-

 

JACOB: We’re not going to pay for our wedding with a Sunday school job.

 

RENEE: We could always delay the wedding. What was our date? August 5, 2016? How about February 2017?

 

JACOB: Nothing like a winter wedding in Vermont.

 

RENEE: It’s not ideal, but we could manage it.

 

JACOB: No. We might have to ask my mom and her husband for help.

 

RENEE: They’re already helping us. They pay for 60% of our expenses.

 

JACOB: …Shit, you’re right. (Jacob sits back) You know, there’s a man I always used to go and see when I was in a difficult spot. I might have to see him. (Cut to Jacob sitting on a couch, talking to an unseen person) So, I come to you now. Lost. Forsaken. And feeling more dramatic than usual. Will you give me some guidance?

 

(Cut to reveal General DePinto sitting across from Jacob. Noah reaches under his coffee table and pulls out a military enlistment form and sets it on the table)

 

NOAH: …What solves problems even better than alcohol, Jacob?

 

JACOB: …War?

 

NOAH: Oh, God no, war causes almost all problems. But joining the military solves almost all problems. So, it’s a double-edged sword.

 

JACOB: …What wars are still going on?

 

NOAH: Well, you could join the Air Force if you wanted to blow shit up in Iraq and Syria, but if you want to be on the ground, Afghanistan is the place to be,

 

JACOB: Didn’t that war end?

 

NOAH: Not really. There are still thousands of American troops there in a counter-terrorism capacity. But you probably won’t have to go there, young Jacob. Which is a shame, because you could’ve fucked a lot of girls in opium fields.

 

JACOB: I’m engaged, thank you.

 

NOAH: My apologies. But most likely, if you join the military, you’ll be in basic training for a while, maybe two to four months, and eventually they’ll send you to some base in Europe where you have barely any responsibilities-or, MAYBE they’ll send you to Afghanistan, where there were only twenty-two American deaths last year. But they probably won’t, because all American troops are going to leave by the end of this year.

 

JACOB: But Obama said that about 2014 too!

 

NOAH: Trust him this time, I never do, but trust him.

 

JACOB: Noah, I have a family here. A son and a fiancé.

 

NOAH: And they will get financial support from the government if you join the army.

 

JACOB: …Really?

 

NOAH: Oh, yes. Renee and little Kyle will be well taken care of.

 

JACOB: But then I’ll miss Kyle’s childhood.

 

NOAH: Trust me, it won’t be that great, he’ll cry, he’ll shit, he’ll fall down and then he’ll learn to say inappropriate things to strangers. Child development is like Breaking Bad, it’s slow getting in, but it really pays off. And you’ll be home for good by the time he’s in pre-teens. And you’ll be home from tours often for years at a time.

 

JACOB: …It would provide them security…and I love to travel. And I don’t do it enough.

 

NOAH: Jacob, for over three years it’s been my dream for you to join the military.

 

JACOB: Wait, I’m an ex-con, aren’t I disqualified for service?

 

NOAH: Your crime is non-violent, and with my help, you could easily qualify for a waiver.

 

JACOB: …Okay. I think I’m doing this. (Noah smiles widely as Jacob signs the paper. Jacob then looks over the paper) This is really long.

 

NOAH: Yeah, you can do it later if you want.

 

JACOB: I have a tattoo of a bulldozer on my ass, is that against the army’s “no tattoo” policy?

 

NOAH: No, it just can’t be on your face, neck or hands-why did you get a bull dozer ass tattoo?

 

JACOB: My seventh grade teacher said it was one of those kitschy, temporary tattoos.

 

NOAH: Okay, maybe we need to work on what you’re going to say during the mental health evaluation first and foremost.

 

(Cut to Ethan and Norman in Ethan’s apartment. Ethan is on the couch drinking a Scotch while Norman is sitting in a recliner with a beer)

 

NORMAN: Well, good job, Ethan. You saved the account.

 

ETHAN: Yes. No thanks to you. You nearly ruined that.

 

NORMAN: How so? It’s not my fault they don’t believe in Hell.

 

ETHAN: They actually do, Norman.

 

NORMAN: Oh.

 

ETHAN: Whatever, I’m just relieved they stuck with us.

 

(Ethan turns on the television. President Obama is speaking on TV)

 

PRESIDENT OBAMA: So let me outline what we’re gonna be doing. Anybody in the business of selling firearms must get a license and conduct background checks or be subject to criminal prosecution.

 

(Applause)

 

ETHAN: Oh, come on.

 

PRESIDENT OBAMA: It doesn’t matter whether you’re doing it over the internet, or at a gun show, it’s not where you do it, but what you do. We’re also expanding background checks to cover violent criminals who try to buy some of the most dangerous firearms by hiding behind trusts or corporations, and various cut-outs.

 

NORMAN: So this is how liberty dies. To the thunderous applause of, the families of victims of horrible gun tragedies.

 

ETHAN: You know, my daughter lives in a rough part of Warwick, so I told her to buy a gun. And she did. So she can defend herself against, say, some creep that tries to follow her home.

 

(Cut to Madeline in her kitchen, taking food out of grocery bags. Peter comes in, shirtless, holding Madeline’s panties)

 

PETER: Mind if I take these home? My apartment smells like shit and you smell like flowers.

 

(Cut back to Ethan and Norman)

 

ETHAN: And now, Chairman Obama has declared unilaterally that she can’t have that?

 

NORMAN: Well, he said that she has to undergo a background check no matter where she buys it.

 

ETHAN: But he can’t do that without Congress! He’s trying to become a dictator, I swear, it’s like he’s gonna run for a third term or something! Man, the courts are going to strike this down big time, and Obama will have egg on his face.

 

NORMAN: Yeah, it’s a good thing dictators listen to courts.

 

(Ethan looks at Norman. Cut to the TV, where a woman and man named Richard Stovall and Quinn Porter are anchoring the Hansbay Evening News)

 

RICHARD: That was President Obama speaking Tuesday on his new executive orders regarding the reduction of gun violence.

 

QUINN: But here in Vermont, we had some violence of our own today, when Donald Trump’s speech at the Flynn Center was infiltrated by protestors from the local mosque. Man, we make a much better team than Patrick and Fiona did, huh, Richard?

 

RICHARD: Yes we do. Mr. Trump revealed his plans to deport all Muslims from the country, and then Muslim protestors breached the doors and began yelling “allahu Akbar”. Many participants, including Mr. Trump, mistook the disturbance for a terrorist attack and fled. Hansbay 5 News captured this exclusive footage outside the Flynn Center, showing the commotion.

 

(Cut to footage of Ryan beating the shit out of a Muslim man on the ground, while Amber looks on in shock. Ryan takes his e-cig away and tosses it to Amber)

 

RYAN: TOSS THAT SOMEWHERE, IT MIGHT BE A BOMB!!!

 

(Amber tosses it. Cut to Ethan leaning forward in shock)

 

ETHAN: Oh, shit.

 

RICHARD: (In the background) Man, what a crazy mix-up. Police have not been able to identify the woman beating that man up, as of yet.

 

NORMAN: Do you think they’ll…?

 

ETHAN: I don’t know. (Ethan’s phone rings and he picks it up) Hello?

 

ABDUL: (On the phone) IT IS OVER! WE ARE DONE!! I WILL NEVER DO BUSINESS WITH YOU AGAIN!!

 

NORMAN: Tell him to say “no soup for you”!

 

ETHAN: (To Norman) For the last time, he’s not that guy!

 

ABDUL: WHAT?!

 

ETHAN: (To Abdul) Uh, uh, allahu akbar! Are we good? (Abdul hangs up. Ethan puts his phone down, and finishes his Scotch) Well, goddamnit.

 

NORMAN: Hey, we still have the Flynn Center.

 

ETHAN: Yeah, but now word’s going to get around that we’re backstabbers. We need to revamp our image. Maybe with a local ad campaign.

 

NORMAN: It would need to be cheap. We don’t have THAT much money in the coffers.

 

ETHAN: …Well, who do you know that’ll work for cheap?

 

NORMAN: …I think I know some people desperate enough to do it.

 

(Cut to Patrick White and Fiona Cadbury sitting across from each other at a marble table in their home. They are both sipping wine while staring contemptibly at each other. Their home phone rings, and Patrick gets up to answer it)

 

PATRICK: Hello?

 

NORMAN: Hi, Patrick, this is Norman from Sanford-Donahue Vending. Ethan and I were wondering if we could have dinner with you sometime next week.

 

PATRICK: Fiona and I would love that.

 

FIONA: Love it.

 

(Fiona sips her wine)

 

NORMAN: Great. How does next Wednesday night sound?

 

PATRICK: Wonderful.

 

NORMAN: Okay. See you then.

 

PATRICK: Goodbye. (Patrick hangs up, pulls the plug for his home phone out of the wall, and throws his home phone and its stand into the garbage) About time we got rid of that thing.

 

(Patrick sits across from Fiona and continues sipping wine. Cut to Amber in Ryan’s room angrily texting. Ryan walks in, straightening his hair)

 

RYAN: …What are you so angry about?

 

AMBER: I’m angry that you beat the shit out of an innocent Muslim man!

 

RYAN: Listen, I am sorry about that too!

 

(Ryan puts the straightener down on his dresser)

 

AMBER: Don’t-don’t put it there.

 

RYAN: If I would’ve known there was no terrorist attack happening, I would’ve acted much differently, I assure you. I would’ve joined the protestors.

 

AMBER: Ryan, my parents would FREAK if they found out you were behind knocking Mr. Trump off the wagon. And plus, it ust seems kind of hypocritical to slam Trump for discriminating against Muslims when you immediately assumed they were-

 

RYAN: Amber, listen. (Ryan sits next to Amber) You need to stop caring what your parents think. Because I stopped caring a long time ago. We’re both adults in our early twenties, we need to start gaining some independence.

 

AMBER: But your parents still pay for your college, right?

 

RYAN: …Yes. And my bat sanctuary.

 

AMBER: Well, mine do too. For the first one.

 

RYAN: But they can’t tell you how to live your life, or who to date. Can they?

 

AMBER: …Well…

 

RYAN: No, like, I’m seriously asking, can they?

 

AMBER: I…I suppose they can’t.

 

RYAN: Oh, thank God. Because I can’t handle being alone for more than four minutes without cutting myself with my coke nail.

 

(Ryan shows off his sharpened coke nail)

 

AMBER: So you still have a coke nail?

 

RYAN: I just use it to add sugar to my coffee and scare away church donation people.

 

AMBER: …Ryan, I respect you for standing up to Donald Trump like that. That’s something I could’ve never done.

 

RYAN: Thanks, Amber.

 

AMBER: Now let's have sex on the bale of hay.

 

RYAN: Please, not again. It itches.

 

(Amber throws Ryan on a nearby bale of hay, and she starts making out with him on top of it, as she removes her bra. Cut to black)

 

THE END


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