Hillary War Room: There's No Business Like My Business

BILL CLINTON: Where is she?

HUMA ABEDIN: In the bathroom, spouse of She Who Must Be Obeyed.  

BILL: [knocking] Darlin', you gotta face the media soon or . . .

HILLARY: Enough!  Schedule the damn thing tomorrow if that makes you happy, but it happens on my terms: only in-the-tank media are accredited to attend; I'll open with a twenty minute diatribe on Trump's lack of presidential decorum; first question I don't like, I'll have a coughing fit and leave.

Huma! I'm done.  Come wipe me.

HUMA: Yes'm.

 [shortly]

HILLARY: Much better.  Now order my breakfast: coffee, grapefruit, triple cheese and mushroom omelet, two sides of sausage, grits, home fries, toast.

HUMA: [writing] . . . and toast.  White, Empress?

HILLARY: Where is your head, girl?  I'm already considered a white-bread candidate.  Someone in the kitchen hears you referring to me as the "White Empress," I lose 20% of the Black vote.  Then I'm toast.  Make it pumpernickel.

 

HUMA: Forgive me, Sensei.

HILLARY: [yelling] Mook!!

[campaign manager enters, genuflects]

Rise, sirrah.  I'll be peddling influence on the phone while I nosh.  Verify with mobile security that my eggs will go out scrambled.

HUMA: I thought you liked them "over easy," your Grace.

HILLARY: Good grief, now I'm all confused.

BILL: Uh, Honey.  Listen, I been ponderin' the economy.  First thing I'm gonna do when we're in is use our Hollywood connections to help unemployed young starlets get their foot in my drawers--I mean, their foot in the door.

HILLARY: I know what you meant. You botched the Polish vote with those insults the other day, so start packing for a new assignment.

BILL: Head to Europe to mend fences?

HILLARY: No.  Back to Chappaqua.  Lock yourself in and wait for my summons.  Go. [Bill exits]

MOOK: Your food is here, Excellency.  I taste-tested everything.

HILLARY: Stay right there where I can see you.  [watches Mook warily as she eats]

HUMA: Attorney General Lynch is on line 3, Goddess.

HILLARY: [picks up] Hi Loretta.  "Power to the People" right back atcha.  [listens]  Oh, wonderful! I'll send Mills by right now.  [forced laugh]  Ah ha ha ha. Yes [chanting],"Eight more years! Eight more years!" [hangs up] Blech. Cheryl!

MILLS: Here, my Queen.

HILLARY: Run over to the DOJ and pick up yesterday's grand jury transcript.  The AG will also give you the jurors' dossiers.  Drop those off for analysis at Research and Destroy.

MOOK: I've informed staff and media of the extended exclusion zone around your person, Anointed One. They know the protocols when in your presence: bow; speak only when spoken to; avoid eye contact; don’t look at her legs.  And the Secret Service will extend your privacy bubble out to 50 yards at campaign events.

HILLARY: Good.

[singing softly from Evita score]

Don't get too close, all you peons;
The truth is, I've never loved you,
I've just been using you
Because you need me
To bolster welfare and mess with health care.
I'll keep my promise;
You keep your distance.

MOOK: M'Lady, regarding something you said a moment ago: you're not "peddling influence" if you state up front remuneration for your efforts would be unnecessary but appreciated. No more 250K speaking gigs, sure, but you can charge for access absent a clearly stated quid pro quo.

HILLARY: Makes sense.  Reach out to my lick-spittle attorney, Lanny Davis, and tell him I want a fee structure for short, medium, and long conversations. [ Mook leaves]

You, sir, Secret Agent man. Approach me. You are Jones, the head of my detail?

AGENT: I'm Smith, ma'am.

HILLARY: Whatever. Your family--they are well?

AGENT: All dead in last night's air crash outside Dulles, ma'am. Their plane ran out of fuel as it circled, waiting for you to debark your campaign jet and clear the area.

HILLARY: Ah, yes, my on-board pedicure ran long. How sad for you. Huma, find a promo code and send a wreath in my name to the funeral home.

Agent Smith, you and your team are pledged to shield me from harm. Correct?

AGENT: That's right, ma'am.

HILLARY: On my calendar next week is an interview with FBI investigators.  They are likely to ask questions that will breach my safe space and cause me emotional distress.  If you allow them to pose interrogatories, I will hold my breath until I expire.

AGENT: Ah, I can't . . .

HILLARY: Your charge supersedes theirs. Do you understand your duty, sir?

AGENT: [pause] Yes, ma'am. [exits]

HILLARY: Huma, it's going to be a long day. Tonight, I'll be the hard-bitten lifer and you'll be the meek young thing just arrived on the prison bus.

Coffee Shop

Trumper 1: I don’t care what they say about the guy. I’m voting for him.

Trumper 2: Same here. Every single one of his failures, he’s bounced back from and started another doomed enterprise. Kinda like that bobble toy that does not stay down when punched. That shows resilience.

Trumper 1: There’s the man who could deal with Putin. Russia invades Poland, President Trump insults him 24/7 until Putin says ´´Uncle Vanya.´´

Trumper 2: You know what? I wish he would shoot somebody on Main Street in Charleston before the primary. That would assure a lot of people that he’s pro gun.

Trumper 1: I can’t wait for him to start building The Wall, financed by Mexico, of course.

Trumper 2: I gotta say, that one doesn’t make sense to me. Why would Mexico agree?

Trumper 1: Tell you a secret I heard from someone connected to the campaign: it's a red herring. President Trump will announce on Day One that illegals have one chance, and one chance only, to avoid deportation. They report immediately to border camps and begin work on the Great Wall of Trump.

Trumper 2: OK, so they’ll be fed and housed until the Wall is finished. Then what? Oh wait, I know: He breaks his promise and deports them.

Trumper 1: Wrong. That would be unethical. He’ll repatriate them.

Trumper 2: Ah, reuniting refugees with families left behind. A humanitarian coup. Might be a Nobel Peace Prize in his future.

Hillary War Room: Effin BI

HUMA ABEDIN: [rushing in] Mistress! Mistress! FBI Director Comey's recommending your indictment for national security crimes! 

HILLARY: Oh, really?

[dials number]

Hillary, Barack. Please advise the DOJ to reject action against me. Otherwise, as we discussed, Michelle receives photos of you smoking weed and noshing on Slim Jims in the Oval Office when she’s traveling. 

You want the negatives? Ah ha ha ha ha; ah ha ha ha ha. [sigh] Nothing like a good cackle to lift my mood.

This is the 21st century, Mr. President. The "negatives" are in a cloud, along with copies of your college transcripts, medical records, state senate papers, original birth certificate, and audio of you asking Khamenei for his prayers, along with other things you don't want seeing the light of day.

[hangs up] 

BILL CLINTON: Jeez, Honey, you hate the guy, don't you? 

HILLARY: Not true. He's "likable enough." Ah ha ha ha ha ha; ah ha ha ha ha ha.

JOHN PODESTA: Comey and some career prosecutors may resign in protest if you skate, my Queen. Our media will spike the story, but FOX, Drudge, and the blogosphere won't.

HILLARY: Anticipated. Following the Director's resignation, Obama orders the EPA to revoke FOX's broadcast license for polluting the airwaves. Other media will hesitate to cross me.

LANNY DAVIS: If necessary, Sensei, allow me to defend you on the Sunday talk shows. All I ask in return is permission to lick your boots, plus a hair from your chinny-chin-chin for my scrapbook.

ROBBY MOOK: To be safe, Comey must be neutralized, Excellency.

HILLARY: Agreed. Huma, our campaign attack dog and his handler are outside. Bring them in.

[enter David Brock and George Soros]

George, remove his muzzle. Unleash him.

[gasps all around; Secret Service agents draw their weapons]

Stand down! He's harmless in my presence.

SOROS: Vhat vud you haff him do, Empress?

HILLARY: C'mere, boy. C'mon. [gives Brock a treat]. This is FBI Director Comey's file, boy. See? [flips pages] Take a sniff.

BROCK: Grr...

HILLARY: Open the door! Now go get him, boy. Release!

[Brock bounds out]

HILLARY: Monitor him, George. I want Comey's reputation savaged.

Hmm. Reminds me. Robby, get Elijah Cummings on the horn. On speaker.

MOOK: Congressman Cummings? I'm calling for . . .

CUMMINGS: The Select Committee is a travesty, sir. Chairman Gowdy's goal is to keep Hillary Clinton out of the White House. My task is to determine which facts fail the test of supporting our narrative and to do everything in my power to beat reality to a pulp in service to our cause. I will not rest until Republicans bear the blame for Secretary Clinton's incompetence, blah blah blah . . .

HILLARY: Elijah! Elijah! Stop! This is Hillary.

CUMMINGS: Hillary? Oh, sorry. I answer all my calls the same way. Defending you is a 24/7 job.

HILLARY: And you should be rewarded. Please consider becoming FBI Director after I'm elected. I'll need someone who views truth through the prism of loyalty to me. We’ll speak again. [hangs up]

PODESTA: He'll never get confirmed, Majesty.

HILLARY: I'll change the rules. No more confirmation hearings. I appoint the people I want. The House objects, let them impeach the first woman president.

BILL: Honey, I don't think . . .

HILLARY: Shuddup, Bill. Tomorrow you leave for Florida to push my candidacy. You'll spend the next year canoodling for votes with blue hairs in convalescent homes and elder communities. Your Secret Service detail reports directly to me.

As penance for past sins, I'm lifting the "Keep it in your pants" prohibition. You'll do whatever's required to get the biddies to vote for me. 

May God have mercy on your pole. Ah ha ha ha ha ha; ah ha ha ha ha ha.