INT. WHITE HOUSE PRESS CONFERENCE ROOM – A GLOOMY WEEKDAY.

 

Karoline Leavitt (hostile): Okay, no. No more questions from Uni-vision.

 

The reporter sits back down, gruntingly. Trump takes the podium attention and shoos Karoline, who treats him like he has the bubonic plague.

 

Trump: You know what they say, if you want something done, you don’t get a blonde woman to do it for you.

 

Ten hands raise up to ask Trump questions. He grunts begrudgingly.

 

Trump: Okay, you there, sweetie with the big rack.

 

Suzette (sighs): Suzette from the Daily Planet. What do you have to say about all the footage and linkage to Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell? Are you really trying to protect her even now? What more does she have on –

 

Trump (tantrums like Donald Duck): Buahhh! Shut up!! Those are nasty, hateful, comments!! Next, you there with the flat chest.

 

David (clears his throat): David from CNN, I also want you to respond to Ms. Suzette’s questions.

 

Trump squirms and throws himself on the floor to tantrum like a child. An audible crack is heard, and J.D. Vance rushes to the podium, as RFK Jr. rushes to pseudo-cure Trump’s broken hip. Trump yells even more.

 

J.D. Vance: See what you did, David?

 

David: He literally did it to himself! Also, doesn’t this mean you’re President, now?

 

J.D. Vance (visibly excited): Right, so next question. You there with the moustache.

 

Harry: Hi, Harry from the Daily Bugle. Will you rescind everything that Trump did, such as the illegitimate capture of immigrants, the human trafficking, the government shutdown, the attack on Venezuela,  the funding slashes to every government agency except I.C.E. and your greedy pockets, and overturn recent Supreme Court rulings?

 

J.D. Vance gets exceptionally visibly angry; Trump is welded back together in time to gain the podium. Trump drags his leg, is visibly sweating, and out of breath.

 

Trump: Listen, Mary.

 

Harry: It’s Harry.

​

Trump is too weak to throw another tantrum.

 

Trump: I don’t care. You won’t get an answer. I want a nice reporter. You there, my trusted bff.

 

Megyn Kelly: Megyn from FOX News. Mr. President, are you okay?

 

Trump (sobbing): No, thank you for asking. I’m constantly bullied (glares at the other media) and I’ve heard rumors that I might not go to heaven?!

 

Megyn Kelly: Sir, of course you will!

 

On cue, the rest of his administration goes ‘awwww’ and tries to cheer up Trump by playing his favorite song, “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” by Bob Dylan. After the song finishes playing, an immediate, continuous laughter is heard from the media reporters. The present administration scans the reporters and gives a look to the secret service workers, who begin to circle around the individual.

 

Trump: How dare -! Who do you think you are?!? I’m going to ring you out!

 

The reporters isolate the laughing crowd member, as the secret service members get ready to tackle this figure in black attire. The figure speaks, is ready to snap his fingers, and warns Trump.

 

Satan: Call back your men, or else.

 

The secret service men look at Trump who glares at them all.

 

Trump: What are you waiting for? Tackle him! Besides, if this is like the last time, he’ll just put you all to sleep, like the Just-micia, or whatever her name was, did.

 

Satan cackles even louder, and the men lunge at him. Satan snaps his fingers, and all the men’s heads explode. J.D. Vance, Marjorie Taylor Greene, RFK Jr., Kash Patel, Tom Homan, Kristi Noem, Pam Bondi, Karoline Leavitt, and Pete Hegseth squeal like frightened pigs. Some men and women throw up. Trump just wipes off the brains from his face.

 

Trump: Oh, shit. You’re not one of the angels, huh?

 

Satan: Wow! (He pats another cloaked member on his arm.) I help a bitch out, and it doesn’t even have the balls to remember me.

 

Trump (freaking out): Wait, no. This isn’t judgement day, right?

 

Satan: Bitch, please. Every day that you cheat Death, is a judgment day. I’ve been judging you since your conception.

 

Trump: I thought –

 

Satan: Let me stop you right there. First of all, your syphilis-last stage, infected brain can’t think.

 

Trump (in disbelief): What?!!!?

 

Satan (sighs): Ugh, I hate explaining myself. Let me put it in small terms that you’d understand, you have a Swiss cheese brain.

 

Trump: No, no, I be knowing now stuff.

 

Satan: See, you fat fuck! That’s a sign! Plus it doesn’t help that you have Marjorie Taylor Greene, a parasitic brain worm, constantly near you, and RFK Jr., another fuck ward with a Swiss cheese brain near you. (Pats the cloaked figure again.) It’s like, dude, two Swiss cheese brains don’t make a complete one!

 

Satan bursts out laughing again. Trump is fuming mad. The others look at each other and start to pray. Satan clicks his tongue.

 

Satan (cont’d): Tsk. Too fucking late for that, don’t you all think? Besides, you’re all mine now. The moment you signed the paperwork to work for Trump, you belong to me. By the way, where’s that little bitch?

 

J.D. Vance (voice cracking): You mean Stephen Miller? He’s not –

 

Satan: No, not him. But he’s also my on-call bitch, just like Russ Vought and Steve Bannon.

 

Tom Homan pushes Kristi Noem. She glares at him.

 

Kristi Noem: What the fuck, Tom?!

 

Tom Homan: Well, I think he’s talking about you.

 

Satan (roaring with laughter): No, you fucking idiots, the Kebbler looking bitch!

 

Karoline Leavitt (fearfully): Ummm, sir, do you mean Jeff Sessions? He’s not part of –

 

Satan mimics and mocks Karoline Leavitt.

 

Satan (imitating her voice): “Do you mean Jeff Sessions?” Stupid bitch, don’t you think I know he’s not here this time? I mean the other one. Also, do you want to know why you wear the cross but not the crucifix?

 

Karoline Leavitt shakes her head.

 

Satan (cont’d): It’s because Jesus doesn’t even want to be associated with your evil ass.

 

Karoline Leavitt bursts into tears; no one consoles her.

 

Kash Patel (clears his throat): Do you mean, Mike Johnson?

 

Satan starts clapping. Kash Patel looks at the others boastfully, and they all grunt.

 

Satan: Finally! I knew one of you ass-lickers could work. Yes, that short Kebbler-elf bitch. Why isn’t he here, right now?

 

Trump: Well, he’s busy.

 

Satan (in disbelief): No, shit! With what?

 

Trump: He’s busy pretending to care for the public, and then he pretends to try and reopen the Senate.

 

Satan: Oh, shit! Boy, oh, boy, am I gonna have fun with him when he gets to Hell.

 

Trump (excitedly): He’s my personal puppet!

 

Satan (dismissingly): Yeah, I could tell his loves everything anal, and you just love grabbing them all.

 

Trump (stupidly): Yeah. (chuckles, then realizes) Wait a –

 

Satan: Well, you’re all going where I’m from. Just know, I’ve been inspired by Trump and his stupid pussy – whoops, posse – of billionaires,  and I’ve decided to expand the circles. After all, Hell for billionaires is realizing they won’t own any shit.

 

Satan elbows the cloaked figure, who finally grunts and brings out Satan’s blueprints for the new, multiple layers of Hell. Everyone freaks out as they see their faces and the circles of Hell that they belong in.

 

Pete Hegseth: What the fuck?! Why are there only men in my circle of Hell?

 

Satan: Hey, be grateful you get so many familiar faces. Especially for what you’ll be doing there.

 

Tom Homan: What will we be doing there?

 

Satan: See how nice I am, answering all your stupid questions? Well, you’ll all be in a sausage fest and you get to, drum roll, please.

 

The cloaked figure grunts and brings out a drum set; he drums suspensefully.

 

Satan (cont’d): Ta-Da! You get to impregnate each other!

 

The men start barfing. Satan gets visibly angry.

 

Satan: Hey! Don’t shit on my happiness.

 

RFK Jr.: But, we don’t (stammers) we can’t – will you be remaking us with p –

 

Satan (angrily): The fuck? No, you get ten pound demons incubating inside of you, which you then have to expel from your penal urethra. For most of you, the demon offspring will burst your urethra thus destroying your male reproductive and urinary system, but it’s a sacrifice that I am willing to make.

 

RFK Jr. (in a raspy cacophony): Don’t worry, guys, sperm count’s been declining, like we saw in young 14-year old boys –

 

Satan (interrupts): First of all, how the hell, did you sick fucks even get to do that study? The pseudo vaccine studies, too? Wow! I can’t wait to have you all in Hell. Also, you’re wrong because nature doesn’t exist in Hell, I make the rules and distort everything, as I wish.

 

J.D. Vance: You can’t do this!

 

Satan (sighs): Fine, you want to check the signatures and verify the information, so be it.

 

Satan snaps his fingers; each document appears floating in front of its corresponding owner, and also three figures appear. Two men are all on all fours and only wear a black robe, and the standing figure has on high stiletto heels. Pam Bondi screams with disgust.

 

Pam Bondi (horrified): Oh my -!!!! Are these three from Hell?

 

Satan (shrugs): I mean you’d think so with their lifestyle, but don’t you recognize your friends?

 

Pam Bondi and the others squint. The others look puzzled; finally Pam Bondi squeals out again.

 

Pam Bondi (pointing): Clarence Thomas and Brett Kavanaugh?!!?!

 

Pete Hegseth: Who?!

 

Pam Bondi (elbows Pete): Two Supreme Court Judges!

 

Brett Kavanaugh: No, this isn’t what you think; it’s –

 

Satan snaps his fingers. Both men have a ball gag placed on them.

 

Satan: Damn, you’d think these bitches would know what a gag order is. Anyway, Ryan Murphy, you need to train your bitches better.

 

Krisit Noem: You’re friends with Ryan Murphy, the producer? I knew Hollywood was Hollyweird.

 

Satan: Bitch, please, like you don’t lick my hooves. Also, no, not everyone, but yes, Ryan Murphy is my bitch. I mean only he would hear about evil men and try to paint them out as a hero.

 

Satan looks at Trump, points at him, and clicks his tongue.

 

Satan (cont’d): Don’t worry when you finally submit to nature’s laws and die, I’ll make Ryan Murphy produce and direct your biopic.

 

Trump: No, I won’t ever die; I’m immortal.

 

Satan bursts out laughing with the cloaked figure.

 

Satan: Oh, shit! You’re always good for a laugh, you know that? But no, seriously, just stop teasing me, and hurry the fuck up. It’s not like anyone is going to miss you. Plus, all your descendants will join us in Hell; forever and ever.

 

Trump: Melania will!

 

Satan: You mean, resting-I’ve-smelled-Trump’s-farts face? No, she won’t; also Donald, it’s rude to constantly blast your ass after her plastic surgeries, that’s why her face looks like that despite all the money.

 

Karoline Leavitt: That’s mean!

 

Satan: Really, bitch? ‘I really don’t care, do you?’

 

Karoline Leavitt remerges to the frightened crowd.

 

Satan: Shit, well you guys just like to make me feel like the villain, huh?

 

Trump: I’m lovable.

 

Satan (mockingly and in Trump’s face): No, you aren’t. Do you want to know why your mother never loved you?

 

Trump: She did!!!

 

Satan: No, she didn’t, and it was because you weren’t her child. I’m your actual birth mother.

 

Kash Patel: Oh shit, isn’t this the plot from Star Wars?

 

The others glare at Kash Patel.

 

Satan (ignores Kash): Your father tricked me into having intercourse after I made so many Faustian deals with him. I wanted to abort you, but instead he drew up a new, business plan, and here you are.

 

Trump: No, that can’t be.

 

Satan: Yeah, but I don’t love Trump either. I prefer my other offspring!

 

Pete Hegseth: Am I your child?

 

Satan (insulted): Bitch, please. I mean my twins.

 

Trump: I have more half-siblings?

 

Satan: Duh, you dumbass. You even work with them.

 

They all look at each other confused.

 

Satan: Putin and Netanyahu, you idiots.

 

BLACKOUT.