Jared Kushner Adopts A Family
And he needs to go, bad.
Image: IIP Photo Archive via Flickr
JARED needs to use the bathroom, very badly. He’s nervous because he hasn’t used the one at work yet, even though he’s been employed at the White House for a year now, longer if you count the transition, which, depending on which lawyer you talk to, definitely counts. IVANKA is reclining on her new fainting couch and scrawling notes on SARAH HUCKABEE SANDERS’s press materials. She’s not speaking to her since she began referring to herself professionally as “Sarah Sanders.” GENERAL MATTIS, still dressed as Santa Claus, enters. KUSHNER DAUGHTER has joined him. She’s dressed as an elf and persuading her COLLEAGUES to buy gifts for the family the White House has adopted this holiday season.
IVANKA [calmly, to JARED]: Use my father’s. [IVANKA exits to deliver SARAH HUCKABEE SANDERS her notes. She’s written, “The stench of nepotism must trail you forever,” on every single piece of paper the press secretary might rifle through.]
KUSHNER DAUGHTER [to JARED]: Use Grandpa’s what?
GENERAL MATTIS [whispering]: It appears the prospect of using a work toilet is causing your father to panic. Your mother suggests he use the President’s private bathroom. But I’m not sure if she is purposefully setting him up for failure, or if she knows the President’s palatial commode will relax him. There is a television in there, from what I understand.
[KUSHNER DAUGHTER locks eyes with her father and nods her head. She’s not convinced her mother is not not setting JARED up for failure, but she can also tell that he really has to go, and she doesn’t want him to humiliate himself further, at least until ROBERT MUELLER has wrapped up his investigation. JARED tiptoes to TRUMP’s door and is about to knock, until he hears STEVE BANNON urging the President to try something, reassuring him it’s only Velveeta and Pace Picante Sauce melted together. He recoils instinctively. KUSHNER DAUGHTER shakes her head to herself and begins reviewing the adopted family’s wish list with GENERAL MATTIS.]
GENERAL MATTIS [incorrectly]: I think a family in rural Ohio would like to read about President Ulysses S. Grant, yes.
KUSHNER DAUGHTER [pointing at the adopted family’s Christmas list]: People never want books as gifts. Do you see books listed here anywhere?
[GARY COHN strides in, on the phone. Whoever he’s talking to, he’s laying it on thick, even for him. He must be trying to close a deal or get a new job.]
GARY COHN [into his phone]: Police officers are civil servants, not heroes. Correct. [GARY COHN looks at JARED, covers his phone and mouths, “Why are you standing like that?” He grabs a Christmas list from KUSHNER DAUGHTER and eyes it. He mouths “Crayons?” to GENERAL MATTIS and then nonverbally seeks reassurance from him that he is not resigning anytime soon.] Now tell me again, is it KRIsten or KIRsten? Kirsten, got it. Kirsten, we can do this. [GARY COHN mimes to JARED that he should respect himself.] Kirsten, who can I make checks payable to? Or do you just want a Bitcoin? [GARY COHN winks at KUSHNER DAUGHTER.] It’s going to be a fucking wave. I can tell you that. A hangry wave, yes.
GENERAL MATTIS [to no one]: Who would vote for a person who uses the word “hangry”?
GARY COHN [into his phone]: You’re the only person besides Jonah Hill who’s had a good year. Holy shit, have you’ve seen how much weight he’s lost? The kid who played my assistant in Wolf of Wall Street, yes. [GARY COHN ends his call without saying “Goodbye.”] Back the fuck up. Kids still use crayons? What happened to screens?
KUSHNER DAUGHTER [reading from the Christmas list]: Changes in Net Neutrality rules mean Boy, Age Six’s internet will be too slow to watch YouTube videos of other kids playing with their toys. He must want to color instead.
GENERAL MATTIS [correctly]: Children enjoy watching other children play. They find it engaging.
KUSHNER DAUGHTER [still reading]: Boy, Age Six has gained so much weight due to changes in school lunch guidelines that the other kids call him Theodore after the fat chipmunk. What he really wants for Christmas is to be the Alvin. [KUSHNER DAUGHTER places her hand over her heart.] How tragic.
GARY COHN [densely]: So exercise equipment? A bosu ball? I can do that.
GENERAL MATTIS [trying to be helpful]: A hat with the number three.
KUSHNER DAUGHTER [to herself]: He means the hat Chance the Rapper wears. And, no. A hoodie with the letter A.
[JARED is still dithering and still writhing, as STEVE BANNON hurls open the door to the Oval Office. He’s covered in pet hair, like he slept on a dog’s bed. LINDSEY GRAHAM and AJIT PAI also exit.]
LINDSEY GRAHAM [to AJIT PAI]: Democrats get out the vote. We suppress it. [LINDSEY GRAHAM clasps his hands to demonstrate how the parties fit together.] We complement each other.
KUSHNER DAUGHTER [festively]: Senator Graham, Chairperson Pai, is either of you interested in purchasing a Christmas gift for the family we’ve adopted? [She hands them lists.]
LINDSEY GRAHAM [literally]: Whatever I can do to become your next Secretary of State, Madame Shadow President.
AJIT PAI [considering the Christmas list]: The mother, Age Forty, is asking for epi pens to combat her son’s allergies? And speech language therapy services for her toddler?
LINDSEY GRAHAM and KUSHNER DAUGHTER [in unison]: The Trump tax plan will eliminate the Obamacare insurance mandate and she doesn’t trust herself to buy insurance for her family, given all the other stuff she has to pay for.
A GHOST, MAYBE: What could be more important than healthcare for a loved one?
[There’s crosstalk as JARED, farting quietly, summons the courage, finally, to enter to the Oval Office. STEVE BANNON smells the odor and realizes JARED is trying to use TRUMP’s bathroom. He blocks the way.]
KUSHNER DAUGHTER [defending her father]: You don’t have walk-in privileges anymore, Steve. [She steps between STEVE BANNON and the door to the Oval Office.]
STEVE BANNON [truthfully, somehow]: We’re comprising a YouToo panel. To discredit Mueller.
KUSHNER DAUGHTER [seeing through STEVE BANNON’s supposed brilliance]: I’m not following? [She hands STEVE BANNON a Christmas list.]
STEVE BANNON [maniacally]: I report directly to the President, who’s moderating the panel, and who’s restored my walk-in privileges after I convinced him that the only way he will win re-election is if he finds every person Bob Mueller has ever said “you too” to, after, that is, they’ve wished him a Happy Holidays, and puts them on a panel right before he debates Hillary.
[KUSHNER DAUGHTER looks to GENERAL MATTIS, but he’s distracted, teaching JARED the best way to stand to recalibrate his bowels. Everyone else is wrapped up in the spirit of giving.]
GARY COHN [reading from the Christmas list]: And for the father, Age Forty-three, some stocks.
LINDSEY GRAHAM and KUSHNER DAUGHTER [in unison]: Dad would ask for a job, but the Trump corporate tax cuts will increase shareholder dividends, not spur job growth.
GARY COHN [side eying KUSHNER DAUGHTER]: Where did you did you find this family? Who wrote this list?
KUSHNER DAUGHTER [powerfully]: The Congressional Budget Office.
[EVERYONE exits to finish shopping. KUSHNER DAUGHTER whispers to her dad to just put some toilet paper on the seat and reassures him that he’ll be fine.]
STEVE BANNON [staying put]: Everyone’s so fucking greedy. When I was a kid, Santa put oranges in our stockings. It was the only Vitamin C we had for the year. To this day, my Christmas morning orange is the only God be damned Vitamin C I ingest.
[STEVE BANNON exhibits symptoms of scurvy, as JARED’s phone pings. It’s a LinkedIn notification telling him he’s only appeared in one search this week. Cameras cut to black before he shits his pants.]