NaNoWriMo 2017: Master President

INT. WHITE HOUSE PRESS ROOM

If it were possible to cram any more guys with cameras and mics in here, it'd be done already. Reporters are pushed all the way to the base of the dias boldly marked wityh the seal of the President of the United States.

Carefully sculpted around the edges are leaping, twisted flames, in crazed orange and alizeron crimson.

A tiny man with an old-school trilby sporting a CNN press-card in the band (MARVIN EKTO) elbows his way to the front.

MARVIN EKTO

Coming through, coming through! Step off, peon! My spot, my spot!

Throughout the room similar displays are underway.

Fox News correspondant VERNARD GUILE works his way off to the right where the way is clearer.

MSNBC's CLINT ETCH, virtually Marvin's twin down to the trilby (except Clint's is a deeper blue) tries muscling up in Marvin's wake, but only makes it to the second row.

Stealthily, making as few ripples as possible, reporters from a host of other outlets work their way into the room. There's a strange similarity between them, despite the diversity of their outfits, from three-piece suit to gaudy orange jumpsuit clearly looking to make a point.

Security looks bored. Actively bored. They are scattered in the narrow space between the press pool and the stage, but seem utterly unconcerned. In fact, a few intrepid cameramen are creeping up onto the very outer edges.

One guard skitters an eye across the camera guy with ESPN and shakes his head. Mutters "poor bastard."

Noise continues ramping up as reporters mainly talk to hear themselves speak. CHINA GALE from Bloomberg is trying to do a livefeed right from the scrum.

She holds up her phablet as her "cameraman" just holds a ring-light. People behind her hiss and raise their hands to the level of their eyes.

CHINA GALE

(enunciating ridiculously to be heard over the room)

We're live on Bloomberg and Facebook to report of the third press conference of our Commander and Chief!

Little red hearts soar across the screen as people Like it.

CHINA GALE

In mere moments, the President will emerge and give the weekly address! The economy is sky high and --

A comment drifts up the screen, "I am so tired of hitting this button. Gold farming easier. Fuck this noise." The number of hearts drops by a third.

CHINA GALE

-- everyone is eager to hear what the Administration will do next!

Strains of Hail to the Chief begin filtering in as if from a long way away but then blare, making reporters cower or jump or cover their ears a little.

Then the fat baseline kicks in and the drums start crashing with guitar taking the screaming, wailing lead.

A few reporters, generally near the back, head-bang a little.

China Gale holds her phone up and away, like a talisman against evil, still streaming. Her cameraman, with a look of boredom to match security's, turn off the light and just sits down.

With a crash and a jangle of metal chords, PRESIDENT RAPTOR leaps up on stage from the wings!

An eight-foot tall, twenty-foot long (including the tail) Utahraptor, lightly feathered, white base with burgandy and purple stripes like a loosely wrapped tiger, PRaptor is wearing only a huge broadcast headset with lip-mic in front of his extended maw. One claw is up, throwing the horns, as he leaps with disturbing agility onto the stage, scattering a few overeager reporters.

The guy from ESPN gets tail-whipped further than most. Dead-panning security hold up the referee sign for a good punt.

Many of the reporters appear to be buckling down and making a conscious effort to sport "game face" and not a look of abject terror.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

I know, I know, the White House press secretary is really supposed to oversee these little things, but I couldn't resist! I love you guys!You're so little and squishy and so good with mustard.

He points to a guy midway back.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

But not you. Too stringy. Maybe a longer bar-be-que.

PRaptor takes up position behind the dias and the molded flames around the Seal burst into actual smokeless flames! He poses a moment, mouth open, arms spread, head cocked.

OVERLAY PRESIDENT RAPTOR'S CAMPAIGN POSTER

Raptor has the same pose, standing on the back of a train car, with an adoring crowd looking up at him. The text reads "EVERYMAN RAPTOR -- HE PROBABLY WON'T EAT YOU".

BACK TO SCENE

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Right! So you know that the economy just won't stop getting better and better. I just can't do anything to make it worse it seems, from cutting taxes to reducing regulation on new business, so I guess we're stuck with all this increasing wealth for everyone. Sucks, right?

And I'm sure you all know and have told people about my successful trip to North Korea last week, right? No more North Korea problem! They'll need a few years to recover some infrastructure but under the beneficent guidance of the US of A they'll do great, just great. Korean food is awesome, I want you all to know. Man, I love Korean.

There is some scattered, hesitant clapping from the reporters in the main body of the scrum, but far more full-throated approval around the fringes.

PRaptor holds up his claws a moment and looks abashed.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Anyone could have done it, guys. I'm just glad I could be the one to see it through. General Mattis and I were tallking about it over ribs at the time and we agreed that it was the best outcome anyone could want.

Okay, maybe not the Kims. Everyone else, though, great time.

He shuffles a few pages.

Clint Etch throws his hand up, reaching for attention, with a repeated "ooh, ooh, ooh."

PRatptor peers into the scrum.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Is that you, Etch?

CLINT ETCH

Clint Etch, MSNBC. I wanted to ask you about the alleg --

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Q&A comes after the briefing, Clint. You know that.

PRaptor gestures subtle with his tail and a laser drips down from the rafters over the stage. The reporters begin doing their level best to get away from Etch, screaming and clawing at each other in their panic. Etch is left in a widening circle of space with reporters now clinging bodily to the suddenly very awake security ring.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Just the arm, please. His writing arm.

The laser shifts and the low velocity round chuffs out.

In slow motion, the bullet whispers a path through the air to Etch's shoulder. Enters the skin. Breaks the shoulder ball joint. Deflects left slightly, shatters the clavicle. Tumbles and the skin behind the shoulder billows out in a hideous spray, bullet deflected downward again.

Normal time. The bullet lays smoking in the carpet-over-corkboard of the press room's floor. Etch is thrashing around, screaming in pain, but the rest of the pool seems to be trying to pull itself together in a hurry, straightening hair, tightening ties, fighting back tears.

PRaptor dino-grins at the crowd.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Snipers, huh? What'cha gonna do? Snipers gonna snipe.

Gale looks at her livefeed which has been going all this time.

It's going crazy. Hearts, trumpets, fireworks, more hearts, and a continuous feed of comment.

CLOSE ON CHINA GALE'S PHABLET

"I fucking love President Raptor!"

"Go Raptor! Give 'em what for!"

"Nothin' fake about that news, no way!"

"SNIPERS GONNA SNIPE"

A lolcat with PRaptor, the text "Probably Won't Eat You. Probably."

"Fake news meet real bullet!"

"Q&A is at the end, Clint. You know that."

RETURN TO SCENE

PRaptor cracks his knuckles and leans more heavily against the podium. Reporters in the front visibly recoil a little.

He dino-smiles again, mouth open, field of teeth larger than most heads.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

So -- economy, North Korea, what's left? Oh yeah, the border! Borders, borders, always a big deal with borders around here. And with good reason. I'm betting the Native Americans wish they'd had a good, thick seawall when the English, Spanish, and Portugese came knockin', am I right? And I totally remember the second-wave humans coming across the Bering to North America; the locals wished they had a wall in a hurry, then.

So here's the deal. We're going to build a wall and make the Canadians pay for it ...

A reporter on the edge lifts two fingers, not asking for permission but attracting attention. He wears a heavy brown trenchcoat and a red ballcap with "Make the Planet Great Again" on it.

DIRK HAMMER

Dirk Hammer, from the Fast-Talker. There's no problem with Canadian illegal immigration, sir.

PRapter narrows his eyes and points.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Q&A is after the briefing, mister Hammer.

Hammer shrugs.

DIRK HAMMER

Wasn't a question.

A silent, pregnant pause.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Well played.

No, no we don't have a problem with Canadian illegal immigration. The Canadians are unfailingly polite, respectful, pleasant people who generally comply with international law even though their local law is kind of dumb. They're not just America's hat, they're America's annoying little sister.

A screen descends from above which lights up with a drawing of North America, Canada highlighted with a glow, several arrows, and clear Helvetica text reading "CANADA."

Several reporters in the scrum give a soft "oooh" and make notes.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Yes, that's Canada.

Just a little wall, something about yea high, probably with some cute little crenelations or decorative toppings.

The screen shows a fence about two feet high, made of lovely brick, before splitting four ways to show possible variants.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Just something to sketch a little difference between our properties, you know? Keep 'em out of our bedroom. Nice folks but kind of annoying sometimes.

I'm partial to this one.

On the screen, a wrought-iron stretch of barrier with concertina wire along the top and a thicket of rusty metal spikes along both front and back. Screaming skulls are riveted at random intervals. Warhammer 40k is a little intimidated.

PRaptor looks over his shoulder at it for a beat.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Maybe a little understated, but it has a certain frisson. Holds the room together, if you know what I mean.

Little pops of pyro go off at the corners of the stage.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

And that's the briefing! Now we can do that awesome Q&A you guys wanted!

Crickets a moment -- before the scrum bursts into jumping and hooting and hollering and arm-waving.

PRaptor points at Vernard Guile.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

You! You look like a tasty morsel! Not in a Kevin Spacey way, just, you know, tasty.

VERNARD GUILE

Vernard Guile, CNN! You've said your personal mission to North Korea was a success, but we've heard no commentary from the North Korean political apparatus since you arrived.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

That is absolutely true, Vernard.

VERNARD GUILE

So -- how do we know your mission was a success?

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Have you heard from Kim Jong-un?

Vernard looks around warily. Is this a trap?

VERNARD GUILE

No?

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Complete success! Perfect victory!

PRaptor clasps his claws over his head and shakes them back and forth. There's cheering from the edges of the pool, bafflement from the scrum.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

You, cute chick with your face glued to the stupidly large phone-tablet-thing.

China Gale looks horrified.

CHINA GALE

"Cute chick!?" I deserve more respect than that!

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Who're you with?

CHINA GALE

Bloomberg.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

No you don't. What's your question?

Again, Gale brandishes her phablet like a talisman. On the screen, PRaptor is dead center, looking expectant.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Damn. I am hot.

CHINA GALE

Economically, sir, it seems obvious that the marked upward pressure in the stock market and the increased solidity of the consumer indices can and will only affect the rich and do nothing for those who are at the bottom of the American social experiment. What would you say to them to reassure that life will, one day, get better?

PRaptor looks left. Right. His image does the same. He strokes his chin philosophically.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

How many people are hired by a guy with no money?

Just musing. But I'm betting there'll be one solid opening at MSNBC by the end of the day, so the job creation engine is turning over!

He narrows his eyes.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Shall we make it two prestigious and coveted jobs as a White House beat reporter?

Gale gulps and pales. The phablet, on the other hand, is going even wilder than before. The crowd, virtually, goes wild!

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Right! You, in the back, with the shifty eyes.

From the fringe, ANDREW ANGLER steps forward, all midlife dad trying to look like a skinhead punk.

ANDREW ANGLER

Andrew Angler, Weekly Shower. What about the Joos?

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

The Jews?

ANDREW ANGLER

No man, the Joooooooos! They run your fucking Administration, man! They're behind it all! It's all their fault!

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Oooh. Yes, the Joooooos. I remember now.

ANDREW ANGLER

Yeah, the Joooos! Are you going to throw them in microwaves the size of boxcars or what, man?!

PRaptor begins to flick his tail then pauses. Tilts his head in thought with a scrunched-up face. Then his eyes light up and he grins broadly.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

I'll hire them all! Yeah! I mean, if you're right, then they're already all over the place and I've hired a lot, and the ones that don't work for me are clearly the best and brightest, most cunning and brilliant players of the dirty game! Shit, Angler, you're a God-send! I've got to hire every Joooooo I can get my claws on!

Diane! Yeah, you, Diane! Start rounding up the Joos and bring them onboard; those motherfuckers are awesome!

PRaptor leans forward over the dias. His head is halo'd by the Presidential Seal.

ANDREW ANGLER

Wait, that's not what I meant at--!

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

You're a life-saver, man. I don't know what I would have done without you. I'd never have known what an asset the Joos are. Hell, I'm going to kick out the SoCal assholes and pay to relocate Israel across everything from LA to Yuma. I'm sure Arizona'll appreciate having way nicer neighbors.

This is brilliant!

Security closes in on either side of Angler and ever so gently take his arms and guide him out of the room. His face is a mix of outrage and supressed fear.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Andrew Angler, everybody! Brilliant, brilliant man.

I think we've got time for one more.

Hey, Hammer, don't hurt 'em.

DIRK HAMMER lifts an old-school notepad and pencil to shoot down notes.

DIRK HAMMER

Mister President, the Utahraptor as a species died out at the beginning of the Cretaceous period. And yet, here you are. How can that be?

There's a slow indrawn breath. Nobody moves.

PRaptor slowly lofts a ridged brow.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Are you assuming my species?

Beat.

DIRK HAMMER

No sir, it's on your birth certificate. I'm not some kind of Birther, if you're asking.

Ten targeting lasers flick down from the rafters and slowly zero in on Dirk's head and chest ...

!... before PRaptor laughs outrageously! Lasers snap off. The room, slowly at first but with greater commitment -- maybe too much commitment -- begins to laugh hysterically.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

(over laughter)

Dirk, I was born in the early Cretaceous! You've seen my birth certificate; it's totally legit! I'm more American than America is!

(more laughs)

How else would I be president?

Hammer frowns.

DIRK HAMMER

But who issued the --

PRaptor points at Hammer

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

Birther!

The press scrum all turn toward Hammer and make tsking disapointed sounds with much shaking of head. Dirk just sighs and shakes his head, slipping back into the outer press.

PRESIDENT RAPTOR

I think we're done here.

It's been a joy and a privilige to be here with you today, and I can reassure you that my press secretary, Diane Killian, will return next week to brief you once more -- with my full support and the complete backing of all the resources at my disposal.

Metal Hail to the Chief kicks back in and PRaptor gives his cheery open-mouthed toothy smile to the stroboscopic cameras.

CLOSE ON CHINA GALE FROM HER SELFIE PERSPECTIVE

CHINA GALE

There you have it, President Raptor's White House press briefing! I think that's all we have from Bloomberg here today. Tomorrow we livestream Congress' debate on FBI culpability for the Waco disaster and the DoJ's hearings on the right to euthanize others. All live on Facebook from Bloomberg and China Gale!

FADE TO BLACK.

.