[Shortly after the election, I started writing a three act play, a mashup loosely inspired by Ubu Roi and King Lear. Now, a month into the new regime, I think I saw what had happened and what was coming fairly clearly. So, rather than obsess over the outrage du jour, I am posting the play here, a scene at a time.]
Putin and Trumpaboo, each alone in his office. In the Ovary Office, Trumpaboo leans tensely over the desk, clutching a cell phone. Putin, his shirt off, feet up on his enormous desk, using a speaker phone, looks as relaxed as a man reclining in a chaise lounge at the beach, sipping a beer or glass of vodka. The speaker phone gives a weird, doubled quality to the conversation, as if Trumpaboo were simultaneously in the White House and in the Kremlin.
Trumpaboo:
Good afternoon, Mr. Tsar of All the Russias.
Putin:
Allo, Trumpaboo.
Trumpaboo:
I'm calling you because we've got a little problem.
Putin:
Da? Problem?
Trumpaboo:
I think I need to call in an IOU.
Putin:
IOU? What is IOU? What you are talking about?
Trumpaboo:
Remember how you mentioned there might be a little dacha on the Black Sea in my future?
Putin:
You are thinking of retirement? Now?
Trumpaboo:
Just discussing real estate, my good friend.
Putin:
Wait small moment. IOU is meaning I owe you something? Why you thinking I owe you?
Trumpaboo:
Ukraine. NATO.
Putin:
So what is problem? I'll tell you problem. After you pulled from NATO, maybe special military operation in Poland was for us not such good idea. Is this problem what you are meaning?
Trumpaboo:
Not going exactly according to plan?
Putin:
Some people say so. Also other things. Anyway, is going better than your little adventure in China. You called to talk about my problems? I am not thinking this is so. What for you are saying I owe you? I paid you good. I got many people to stay home instead of to vote for Cordelia. Deal is deal.
Trumpaboo:
All I need's an airplane ride. One way. Don't bother meeting me at the airport. Things are getting hot here.
Putin:
Hot? Like yesterday Stalin's Birthday thirty degrees celsius in Omsk?
Trumpaboo:
Hot as in nasty. Hot as in all those whining freeloaders camped out around the Washington Monument, complaining about food stamps social security health care.
Putin:
Why complaining?
Trumpaboo:
Beats me. I saved those programs from running out of money, but do I get the credit? I'm the only one who could have done it. It takes somebody who understands business. I understand business like nobody else; you can't go broke if you don't spend anything. Simple! All the agronomists say so.
Putin:
Still not seeing problem. What about your buddy Lotsabucksaboo? Maybe he bails you out?
Trumpaboo:
He's run off to New Zealand. Him and Feely Theely and Jellyfish Jeff and all that crowd. But I can't go there. Extradition.
Putin:
Hahahaha!
Trumpaboo:
Not a whole dacha. A nice cottage. Ungrateful goobers have pitchforks and torches. I can't walk near a window without a stone comes through it. Oh, I'm immune, but it's very inconvenient. Try getting a pizza delivered! American carnage, is what it is. And the capitol cops won't move on them.
Putin:
Da, you are doing very good job. Just what I paid for. Nobody got work, nobody can buy nothing, nothing to buy! Who you going to tax? Lotsabucksaboo? Hahahaha! All his money in Caymans, like mine. No soldiers, no guns, you don't pay nobody. And since you let out from prison so much peoples what beat up police, police show you loyalty same what you showed them. They find something else to do. And everybody to be fighting everybody else, like rats in barrel. Is economy, stupid.
Trumpaboo:
A fixer-upper.
Putin:
U.S. no more pains my ass, even if it wanted! I think you do great just where you are! I think we are keeping you there.
Trumpaboo:
A chicken coop. I can renovate.
Putin:
Besides, airplanes can be dangerous. Remember Prigozhin.
Trumpaboo:
How much is the ticket? Can we do a deal? (Pulls out his wallet, extracts a wad of bills, riffles through it.) Would 11,799 do it for you? (Silence.) 11,780? Would 11,780 put me over the top?
Triumphantly stabbing at a button on his speaker phone, Putin ends the call.
Putin:
In American dollars? Hahahahaha! Da svidanya, Chumpaboo.
