Knock! knock!
C: Who's there?
R: It's me, man. Lemme in.
C: Who's there?
R: It's me, Karl. Don't act like you don't know me. Lemme in.
C. Who's there?
R. Not so loud! Jesus, people are listening. Lemme in.
C. Laura's not here.
R. That was last year, dammit! Lemme in!
C. Laura's not here.
C. Laura's not here.
R. Yeah, we know Laura's not all there but damn if she ain't useful. Lemme in, Cheech!
C. Laura's not here.
R. Listen, I'm out here in the cold and Fitzgerald's on my ass and I need some of that presidential lovin you're so good at...
C. Laura's not here.
R. Jeeeeeeezuz! You're not mad at me cuz I lied to you about outing Wilson? I'm supposed to lie to you! That's my job! Listen, just open up the door and let me in. I'll explain it all to you one more time over another Budweiser.
C. Laura's not here.
R. #$%^!*
R. Cheech. If I go down, you're going down with me. No one knows the shit I know about you. Please think about all the good times with you and me and Dobson and the twins in the hot tub and Laura in those hot pants...
C. Laura's not here.
R. Dammit, you crackhead fucking fool! I'll take you down! I have the bios of every one of your crazy crony appointees - hell, I made them! I have the tapes of you and Roberts and photos of Miers under the desk! Rumsfeld answers to me! You think Clinton had it rough? I'll destroy you, you little pipsqueek! Turdblossom, my ass! I'll show you who's Turdblossom and who's the real leader of the 'free world'! And trust me, Laura knows which side of the bread's got that nice lubricated butter on it - so you better let me in now, asshole!
C. Laura's not here.
R. Condi, can you hear me? Are you in there? Tell this son of a bitch to let me in. It's so fucking cold out here. Oh my god, I'm going down. I'm gonna do life in a fucking tennis resort. I fucking hate tennis! Condi!
C. Condi's not here.
R. Harriet then! Harriet, if you're in there, tell this megalomanic who's really the boss! Tell him Harriet!
-- a figure comes to the door --
R. Tenant? Not you! Oooooh, I'm melting!