Dear Chuck N Nancy: Tell Donald To Go Fuck Himself Today. Do It.

Welcome, welcome to this edition of ‘TINY SCRIBBLE THEATER’!  Tonight’s Show: “Chuck N Nancy & The Vulgar King: My Take”.

This is MY version of how the scene would play if I were writing it.

The setting — THE OVAL OFFICE — Chuck N Nancy are STANDING between the two sofas by the President’s desk.  As they whisper to each other, the door opens and Donald walks in.

DONALD:  Sit, sit — Ya finally got here — knew ya would–

He sees the serious look in their eyes — but, being a sociopath, he can’t ‘read’ it.

DONALD: Why aren’t you sitting?

NANCY:  Cos we’re not going to be here very long.

CHUCK: Everything goes through us now.  Everything.

DONALD: I don’t know what the fuck you’re even talking about–

NANCY:  We get that.  The government closes down — on your dime — unless we GET the following things —

CHUCK:  That’s ‘get’ as in ‘GET’. As in we’re not negotiating.  As in we get the same ‘sweetheart deal’ you give everyone else on the planet because you are, in fact, the world’s WORST negotiator–

Donald starts to open his anus-like mouth, but — this time, something deep down tells him to HEED the serious look in Nancy’s eyes.

NANCY: If you burped right now, I bet we’d all get a ‘snoot-ful’ of Vladimir Putin’s DNA.

Again Donald opens his anus-like mouth to respond.  Muscle memory is starting to form. He says nothing.

CHUCK: DACA — done.  DREAMERS — Done.  OBAMACARE — done, done and DONE.

NANCY:  We know you don’t care.  You just want your deal — whatever the fuck it is — just to hang it atop your goddamned Christmas tree.

CHUCK:  Well, you can HAVE that ornament, pal.  It’s right here in this box…

From behind his back, Chuck produces a rectangular box — an odd shape for a Christmas ornament.  But Donald’s eyes light up anyway.  It’s a present.  For him.  Does anything else matter?

NANCY:  Go on — open it.

Donald snatches the box from Chuck’s hands.  Rips off the wrapping with his tiny, orange mitts and whips the box top over his shoulder.

DONALD:  What the kind of fuck kind of ornament is this?

He looks to Chuck.  Chuck stares back.  Looks to Nancy.  Same thing.  Finally, we see the ‘ornament’.  It’s a document, it’s signature line already tagged with a yellow sticker.

The rest of the document is quite simple.  It reads like this:  

“To Whom It May Concern:  In regards to the subject of Russia and whether or not I, my family & members of the republican party (whose names I will reveal) conspired with them (and our financial backers) to STEAL the Election of 2016 from The American People — We Are All GUILTY AS CHARGED.”

Now it’s Donald’s turn to stare.

DONALD:  I can’t sign this.

Chuck and Nancy are already heading for the door.

NANCY:  Then go explain to the American People why their government is shut.

DONALD:  Because of you!  I’ll tell them that!  Because of you!  The Democrats did it!  You!  My base will believe everything I tell them!

Chuck stops at the door.  Turns back slowly, a wry smile on his lips.

CHUCK: On the day he resigned, Richard Nixon still had a 29% approval rating.

NANCY: Allow me to explain — We have come to accept that one third of this country will simply not go along with anything the other 70% are doing.  We represent that 70%.

CHUCK: And given another election cycle or two?

NANCY: Now that we’ve remembered there’s such a thing as ‘local elections’…

CHUCK:  And Emily’s List — Twenty thousand fresh female faces in the political system will be the thing that ACTUALLY clears out the swamp —

NANCY:  You can tell your toxic base whatever you like.  As of today?  No one is listening to THEM.  Ever again.

Chuck gestures toward the document-in-the-box — still in the President’s hands. 

CHUCK:  We’ll expect to see a signed version of that —

NANCY:  Within the hour.

CHUCK:  Or the government closes and stays closed.

NANCY:  That’s the deal.

They start to go.  Stop.  Chuck turns back.  

CHUCK:  There is some fine print.  You have to admit to that too — the women — you raped, molested, intimidated, assaulted, harassed — every last one. Guilty.

NANCY: As charged.

A look passes between Chuck and Nancy.  Message delivered.  As they exitEND SCENE.


Dear Washington, DC — Though I am just about to start on a couple of really big things, I would be willing to help out — by discussing this scene with you — and how to play it.  Call me.



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