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MacTrump

Page 12

by Ian Doescher


  Much have I ponder’d on this very question,

  And this have I concluded: is it not

  With some relief that we see this eclipse?

  There are more things in heav’n and earth, Justine,

  Than are dreamt of in our philosophy.

  This day remindeth us that stronger forces

  Exist than we shall ever comprehend.

  No matter how much life doth overwhelm,

  The planets move, the stars do rise and set.

  JUSTINE

  ’Tis true. Yet while the heavens and the earth—

  The universe’s full expansiveness—

  Do move in courses well beyond our ken,

  Our planet, still, doth face a mighty threat—

  A menace that could rend the earth in twain.

  MARIANNE

  The villain standing on his balcony.

  JUSTINE

  Indeed.

  MARIANNE

  —We must, then, ev’ry effort make

  To stand against this threat while we have breath.

  I would not see our liberty denied,

  Nor watch as justice wholly is destroy’d.

  Let us, then, promise by this dying light,

  We two shall doggedly continue on

  To protest, yell, demand, provoke, resist,

  Until a truer light o’er us doth shine!

  JUSTINE

  Unto this cause I swear.

  MARIANNE

  —I swear as well,

  To thee and to th’America I love.

  [The light changes as totality arrives. All above and below stand silently, in awe. Slowly, the crowd below disperses until all exeunt.

  MACTRUMP

  ’Tis over, at long last. And now, ’tis time

  To lift the leg and hose the porcelain.

  [Exeunt MacTrump, Desdivanka, and Kushrew.

  DONNISON

  [to Ericson:] Ho, brother, thou shalt not believe thine ears—

  Methought I saw our ladies two below!

  ERICSON

  Where, when?

  DONNISON

  —Upon the White Hold green, just now.

  Yet now the crowd is gone, and love withal.

  ERICSON

  Alas! I could not see them. Donnison?

  DONNISON

  What?

  ERICSON

  —I’m afeard.

  DONNISON

  —Of this celestial portent?

  ERICSON

  Nay, nay, I am afraid I may have look’d

  Too long upon the sun and all its rays!

  DONNISON

  Why think’st thou so? Pray, brother, canst thou see?

  ERICSON

  ’Tis only multicolor’d spots I see,

  Which take the shape of hearts before mine eyes.

  DONNISON

  O, lovesick boy, I also saw those hearts—

  In their sweet faces, talking on the green.

  ERICSON

  You saw them, too?

  DONNISON

  —Yea!

  ERICSON

  —Wonders!

  DONNISON

  —Let’s inside;

  I’ll warrant thou wilt see aright again.

  Pray, come inside and rest thy weary bones.

  ERICSON

  Once I am well, let us watch Dame of Thrones!

  [Exeunt into the White Hold.

  SCENE 6.

  That night at the White Hold residence.

  A toilet flushes. Enter MACTRUMP in a presidential bathrobe.

  MACTRUMP

  I am so troubl’d by the damn’d reporters

  Who question me o’er Prussians and MacMueller,

  My bow’ls do even mount their own resistance.

  The losers do not care how I may feel,

  Yet still am I in charge and run the show.

  My mind is plagu’d by constant overuse—

  One night of steady sleep is all I seek,

  To heal my weary, overburden’d mind.

  I had my nightly flagon of warm milk,

  My faithful stuffèd bear is here beside me,

  And mine attendants tuck’d me in with care—

  There’s naught that can disturb this restful night.

  [He climbs into bed and turns off the lights.

  Enter GHOST OF BANQUO O’BAMA.

  [MacTrump sits up in shock.

  O’Bama’s ghost! However can this be?

  My senses may by many tricks be sway’d.

  Belike my stomach maketh my mind weak—

  You are, mayhap, some undigested beef,

  Yet far more gravy than come from the grave.

  Why are you here? Methought you had gone hence

  To live in your post-presidential glow—

  Yet somehow now old presidents return?

  How are you hither come to wreak your—wait…

  Why do you have a ghost? You’re still alive.

  O’BAMA

  Because hope never dies.

  Enter JOSEPH O’BIDEN.

  O’BIDEN

  —’Tis certain, Banqy!

  O’BAMA

  How art thou, Joe?

  O’BIDEN

  —Well. I receiv’d thy text.

  MACTRUMP

  O’Biden? Wait—thou art not e’en a ghost.

  Who let thee in the White Hold?

  O’BIDEN

  —I know much

  About this castle you could never grasp,

  Like how to show respect unto your office

  And work constructively with one’s opponents—

  The little things that make one great—again.

  MACTRUMP

  Pray listen, Joe, if thou wouldst harshly speak,

  Then challenge me in 2020, rogue.

  Thy visage mak’st me not afeard.

  O’BIDEN

  —Malarkey!

  You quake with fear at facing me, MacTrump.

  MACTRUMP

  All right, I do. I shall confess it, yet

  That doth not make clear why the two of you

  Have hither come whilst I attempt to sleep.

  O’BIDEN

  I prithee, Banqy, explicate the matter.

  O’BAMA

  We’ve come to tell you that today’s eclipse

  Foreshadows utter failure for your reign.

  You think yourself as mighty as the sun,

  Yet forces far beyond your influence

  Are coming to reduce your orange glow.

  Each one of us believeth we will be

  The winner in life’s lottery, that we’re

  The one who may yet be the next MacTrump,

  Or, at the least, will not become the chump

  To whom MacTrump severely shouts, “You’re fired!”

  But there’s the rub. It discounts history.

  MACTRUMP

  You are a loser. Evermore shall be.

  O’BAMA

  ’Twas not the case in both oh-eight and twelve.

  I know because I won the both of them

  With a majority of pop’lar vote.

  Enter GHOST OF BILLIAM O’CLINTON.

  O’CLINTON

  O, be you not too brutal with him, Banqy.

  MACTRUMP

  O’Clinton? You have a ghost too?

  O’CLINTON

  —Relax,

  Ex-presidents all have one whilst we live—

  It cometh from the Former Presidents

  Act pass’d in 1958.

&nb
sp; MACTRUMP

  —Indeed?

  O’CLINTON

  Indeed! It was a rider added by

  Ol’ L. B. Jamy. He lik’d working nights.

  MACTRUMP

  Well, I have no idea who that man is,

  But if I hear you right, you do report

  That I shall one day have mine own ghost, too?

  O’CLINTON

  To be plain…

  MACTRUMP

  —What?

  O’CLINTON

  —We are not certain yet.

  MACTRUMP

  But wherefore not?

  O’CLINTON

  —What you must understand—

  Enter GHOST OF RICHARD THE WORST.

  RICHARD

  The law applieth but to presidents

  Who never had themselves remov’d from office—

  Which was, I’ll warrant, nearly my fate, too.

  O’CLINTON

  Believe me, Lord MacTrump—I feel your pain!

  MACTRUMP

  O, fame come to my room! You, sir, are Richard

  The Worst? You look e’en worse than that tattoo

  Of you that Blackstone hath upon his back.

  RICHARD

  Yes. I…shall never understand that man.

  Enter GHOSTS OF GEORGE THE GREATER and GEORGE THE LESSER.

  GREATER

  Alas, I know that fervent type too well.

  MacTrump, I know the people you work with,

  And they were ever hatchet men of woe.

  LESSER

  Thou hast it, Dad. ’Tis they who also made

  Me president: crooks, scoundrels, and turd blossoms

  Each one of them.

  GREATER

  —They did divide the country

  In ways that made your presence possible.

  MACTRUMP

  What of it? Would you have me give you thanks?

  Depart, please, all of you—I fain would sleep.

  Enter GHOST OF THEODORE ROSSEVELT.

  T. ROSSEVELT

  It shall take more than words to stop a bull moose!

  Have you no care for our environment?

  You wantonly destroy or do permit

  Destruction of all that is beautiful.

  You turn our streams and rivers into sewers,

  Pollute the air, destroy the forests, and

  Exterminate our fishes, birds, and mammals—

  To utter naught of vulgarizing charming

  Terrain with hideous advertisements!

  MACTRUMP

  If ’tis my great casinos you imply,

  They were the only decent thing in Jersey.

  FALSTAFT

  [offstage:] I disagree! I’ve suffer’d your buffet.

  MACTRUMP

  Who said that?

  Thudding footsteps approach.

  Enter GHOST OF WILLIAM FALSTAFT.

  FALSTAFT

  —I once dedicated time

  As both chief justice and, within these halls,

  As president protecting citizens

  From businessmen-conspirators like you!

  Forsooth, I busted twice the trusts as my

  Friend Teddy here. Were I chief justice now,

  I would, with glee, look forward to presiding

  O’er your impeachment.

  T. ROSSEVELT

  [to Falstaft:] —Bully for you, William!

  MACTRUMP

  I shall be honest: I am most afraid

  Of mine impeachment, yet not half as scar’d

  As I am of Putain. The man is tough.

  Methinks there’s no one who could best his might.

  Enter GHOST OF FRANKLIN ROSSEVELT.

  F. ROSSEVELT

  The only thing to fear is fear itself!

  MACTRUMP

  Wait, wait—were you not in a wheelchair bound?

  F. ROSSEVELT

  I did not need the use of my two legs

  To stand against our fascist foes abroad.

  I bested them whilst your own father, sir,

  Hoped that their master race would rule the world!

  MACTRUMP

  Pray, watch your mouth, you sniv’ling, whither’d wimp.

  My father march’d with Klansmen, not with nuts!

  It’s Democrati who are socialists.

  Enter GHOSTS OF HARRY S. TRUEMAN, DWIGHT D. EISENPOWER, and RONALD REGAN.

  TRUEMAN

  The buck stops here!

  REGAN

  —You call yourself a good

  Republicon? I favor’d gun control,

  Applauded immigration, and commanded

  The Prussians to tear down their wall, MacTrump!

  EISENPOWER

  You owe each man and woman in our forces

  A grand apology for ev’ry insult

  You hurl’d toward our prisoners of war.

  Apologize to them, and then resign!

  MACTRUMP

  Ha, ha, you jest! I never shall resign.

  If trouble comes, I’ll grant myself a pardon.

  RICHARD

  I tried to do that once. It workèd not.

  MACTRUMP

  Fie, out! You wretched souls, give me my rest!

  [All exeunt except MacTrump, who awakes from his nightmare.

  O, I have had a most rare vision here—

  A dream, past wit to say what dream it was.

  I’d be an ass, if I’d expound this dream.

  Methought I was—there’s none who can tell what.

  The eye of man, I’ll warrant, hath not heard,

  The ear of man hath never seen, man’s hand

  May never taste, his tongue cannot conceive,

  Nor his heart to report, what my dream was.

  Am I the lowest ’mongst the presidents?

  Nay! Never! All these shadows have offended,

  For none compare unto the great MacTrump!

  I am the greatest president in hist’ry,

  E’en blowing Ronnie Regan far away.

  [Calling:] McTweet!

  Enter MCTWEET.

  MCTWEET

  —A midnight summons! ’Tis your wont.

  MACTRUMP

  Write something—anything—about how I

  Am far superior to those before.

  All those past presidents were hacks and wimps.

  [McTweet begins writing quickly.

  ’Tis only through MacTrump the office shines—

  Ne’er did the sun shine brighter than today!

  MCTWEET

  [aside:] A-ha, then he admits to global warming?

  MACTRUMP

  No president e’er harder work’d than me,

  To clean the mess that I inherited!

  Say more besides—make up whate’er thou wilt.

  MCTWEET

  You’d have me autogenerate your words?

  MACTRUMP

  Thou hast my trust, I gave thee my covfefe.

  MCTWEET

  ’Twill be done as you say, lord. One thing more…

  MACTRUMP

  Yea?

  MCTWEET

  —Have you seen the news that’s trending now?

  MACTRUMP

  Is’t good or bad? I prithee, make it good.

  MCTWEET

  The good or bad is what you make of it—

  Your enemies, methinks, would call it good.

  MACTRUMP

  Alas! Pray, tear the bandage off in haste!
>
  MCTWEET

  Your former lawyer LaCöhen doth work

  With the MacMueller inquisition, giving

  His full cooperation to their task.

  Your children, too, are under some suspicion

  For sharing information sensitive

  E’en via mine own self, McTweet.

  MACTRUMP

  —O, heavens!

  Base LaCöhen, the flap-mouth’d fool-born lout!

  McTweet, thou art a nuisance, get thee gone—

  But do my bidding also, post my missives!

  MCTWEET

  Sir, there hath also been another shooting—

  MACTRUMP

  O, who hath time for this? Send forth some words.

  MCTWEET

  It shall be done.

  [Exit McTweet.

  MACTRUMP

  —Curse this most wretched night,

  Wherein I have been so unfairly us’d

  By ghosts and nightmares, news and rank reports.

  My sleep is troubl’d, as it has been e’er

  Since Robert of MacMueller entered on

  The scene, with inquisition most unfair.

  As I said when I first learn’d of his probe,

  The same is true today: ’tis terrible,

  Belike the ending of my presidency.

  I’m fubb’d off, well and truly, should he find

  A trace of all the misdeeds I have done.

  The task is mine, to shore up my support,

  For public sentiment is ev’rything.

  With public sentiment, there’s naught can fail;

  Without it, nothing can succeed. I must

  Continue to pursue my wall, which sets

  My base into a frenzy of delight.

  Now, though, I need to rest my eyes awhile,

  Or I will crack beneath this pressure harsh.

  ’Tis pitiful when even history

  And all the sordid characters thereof

  Pursue me past the warm embrace of sleep.

  Alas, I’m still afeard of what I saw.

  Perhaps my lady shall some comfort proffer.

  [He looks to the other side of the bed.

  My lady? Art thou sleeping? Wilt thou wake?

  I have had visions most severe this night.

  [He realizes Lady MacTrump is not there.

  Of course, what was I thinking? She and I

  Have not slept in one bed as couples do

  For well-nigh seven months. She says I snore.

  It also seemeth that our love doth shrink.

  How fondly I recall her sweet embrace,

  Which, like a mother’s, quickly calms my soul.

  How gladly would I welcome her in bed

  To talk me through these daunting slings and arrows.

  Yet wishing cannot bring the lady here—

  And I’ll not stoop to summon her to bed.

  ’Tis odd—I have not seen her since the morn,

 

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