The scene is Florida’s showplace: Mar-a-Lardo, the fabled Trump mansion/clip joint.
The time: One year from this very day.
Mar-a-Lardo’s quasi-owner, the former disgraced, twice-impeached, twice-defeated President Donald J. Trump, is no longer in the land of the living. Let us pause for a moment of silence to honor his memory. Right-o, that’s long enough. Too long, really.
At Mar-a-Lardo’s front gate is a “FOR SALE BY AUCTION” sign. Inside, the desolate château is practically empty. Tossed by the indifferent wind, a scurf of McDonalds wrappers blows across the forsaken grounds.
Obscene 1.
The Trump spawn, Donald Jr., Ivanka, and that other one, What’s-his-name, are sorting through a hillock of household goods, knick-knacks, and jumbo-sized menswear lying on the floor of the mansion’s main lobby.
Ivanka: I can’t believe Daddy’s gone! (sob) And what’s worse is, he left us nothing but this pile of junk! (She kicks aside a framed piece of fan art depicting the late Donald Sr., with a Mr. Olympia physique, killing the Black Panther with his bare hands).
Don Jr: Shit. I thought when the old fart kicked the bucket, that 600-million-dollar judgement would be cancelled out! Those crooks in New York took everything! Our whole inheritance! Fuuuuuck... (does a bump of coke)
Ivanka: That’s nothing compared with what the Russians grabbed—overseas accounts, real estate, golf courses...
… That Slobbovian hag Melonball made out all right, though. How come that slutbag got her settlement, but his own flesh and blood get zip?
What’shisname: We’re orphans now! (sob) Those bastards, I can’t believe they’d steal money from defenseless orphans! (sob, snivel) Is there no humanity left in the world? (Picking out a gold-plated golf trophy) I remember the tournament when Daddy won this! (breaks down sobbing)
Don Jr.: Yuh, he cheated in every game so he could award it to himself. Big fucking deal.
What’shisname: You shut up! Liar! (sticks his fingers in his ears and babbles) La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!!!
Ivanka: I wish we could open that lockbox they missed …
Don Jr: (eagerly) What d’ya think’s in it? Drugs?
Ivanka: (searching through an oversized suit jacket) Maybe the keys are in one of these suits. Junior, check those pants.
Don Jr. My God! (waving away a foul odor) Gag. No way, dude. (does a hit of coke)
Ivanka: Oh, give me that! You two are such useless wusses. (Searches the pockets) The key! I’m gonna open that box.
Whatshisname: Whatever’s in it is sacred to His memory (sob) Anyways, Daddy would’ve wanted me to have it, he always loved me best! (choking on sobs)
Ivanka: You’re delusional, Whatshisname, I mean … um … Eric.
Obscene 2.
The place: Bedminster Golf Course. An earth-mover is methodically digging up the grave of Ivana Trump. Law enforcement officers and Federal agents, including Special Agents Hammer and Justice, and Division Head Hedley Head are standing by. As they watch the dig, an Eastern European gentleman storms out of the clubhouse and accosts them.
Traffikov: Fucking shit! Why you assholes are wrecking my golf course? I am owner, is my property. You have warrant?
Division Head Head: We do. (showing it) We have reason to believe that stolen classified documents belonging to the United States Government are buried in Mrs. Trump’s grave.
Federal Agent Hammer: Possession of stolen Federal property, that’s a very serious offense, Mr. Traffikov.
Traffikov: I am shocked. Place is sold to me “as is.”
Obscene 3.
Back in Mar-a-Lardo. The Trump offspring now have the lockbox, and the key.
Ivanka: He hid it so well, it must be something really valuable!
Whatshisname: (sniffle) He meant it for me!
Don Jr: Fuck, open it! My stash is getting low.
Ivanka inserts the key and pries the lid open.
Ivanka: It’s a gift certificate! For what? (reads) “This coupon entitles the holder to one free Big Mac sandwich with small fries or one free Happy Meal. No substitutions. No cash value. Void where prohibited. Valid through 06/18/2025.” … … … Well, shit.
Don Jr. Stingy old bastard, where’d you hide the drugs?
Whatshisname: June 18th, 2025--that was yesterday! It’s no good anymore! That’s all I get? (sob) I hate you, Daddy! I hate you all! I hate everybody in the world!
Obscene 4.
Back at Bedminster Golf Course. The digger has unearthed a coffin. Law enforcement officers use a crowbar to pry it open.
Officer: Ugh… Hey, what are all these little bottles in with the stiff? The label says “Polonium.” She was Polish, right? (Starts to open one)
Agent Justice: Jesus, don’t open that! Put. It. Back. In. The. Coffin. It’s deadly radioactive! Everybody needs to get thirty yards away. Now! You too, Ivan!
They all sprint for the clubhouse.
Agent Hammer: (On cell phone) Hello, Bob? we’ve got a situation at Bedminster. There’s radioactive material in Ivana’s box … What? No, it’s in the COFFIN, Bob. Jeeze! What’d you think I meant? Oh, grow up for fucksake… Hell yes, it’s serious… No! … No, we didn’t. No, Bob, I don’t know how much contamination there is. Assume the worst… Yes... Get a radiation HazMat crew over here. No, next week is fine. HELL, YES, I MEAN NOW! We gotta quarantine this whole site. An Exclusion Zone. Like Chernobyl.
Traffikov: Like WHAT? You have got to be fucking shitting me! (beating his head against the bar)
Division Head Head: (scratching his head) Now where in hell could Trump have gotten hold of polonium?