En-sell-it-to-us (a short, one-act play)
Dramatis personae: Donald Trump, Mette Fredericksen, prime minister of Denmark, various aides of Fredericksen and various flunkies, toadies, sycophants, and ass kissers of Trump. Trump places a call to Fredericksen.
Trump:
Mette, Mette? It’s The Donald.
Fredericksen:
I already told you, we are not selling you Greenland. As one of our parliament members said, you can fuck off!
Trump:
What a nasty woman you are! But I’ve seen pictures of you, Mette. You’re not bad, though not exactly my type. However, maybe if you were twenty years younger … you know, if Ivanka wasn’t my daughter, I’d probably date her. Hell, I think I’ll date her anyway.
Fredericksen:
Get to the point, Mr. President. What do you want? I already told you Greenland is not for sale.
Trump:
En-sell-it-to-us.
Fredericksen:
No! That’s final. We’re not selling it to you.
Trump:
En-sell-it-to-us.
Fredericksen:
I said no! Greenland is not for sale. No, no, no!
Trump:
That’s what Melania said the other day, Mette, when I invited her to join me in the bathroom after we had gourmet lunch from McDonald’s. ‘Melania,’ I says, ‘Melanida, join me in the bathroom. You know we both have to shit after eating all those cheeseburgers.’ But she gives me the brushoff, Mette. ‘No, The Donald,’ she says, ‘no!’
Fredericksen:
You’re absolutely disgusting.
Trump:
Thank you very much, Mette. But enough of your flattery, much as I like it. We want En-sell-it-to-us. I won’t rule out military force to get it.
Fredericksen:
You’re mad! Greenlanders want nothing to do with you!
Trump:
I’m not talking about Greenland now, Mette. I’m talking about En-sell-it-to-us.
Fredericksen:
What? What are you talking about? Sell
what to you?
Trump:
En-sell-it-to-us, Mette.
Fredericksen (puzzled pause)
I don’t understand. You want us to sell you letter N?
Trump:
No, we want En-sell-it-to-us. I understand it’s very icy but it will melt because of climate change and it probably has plenty of minerals we need.
Fredericksen:
I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you have one of your flunkies, toadies, sycophants or ass kissers spell out what it is you want to buy?
Trump (yells for flunkies and aides): Someone spell it for this nasty woman and get these stupid Phonics cards away from me … and bring me a hot cup of covfefe … And, Elon, I’ve told you a thousand times to quit humping my leg (violent kick can be heard).
Flunky takes phone:
It’s spelled E-N-C-E-L-A-D-U-S.
Fredericksen (summons aides): Just a moment … (background conversation) Mr. President, we’ve googled all this up. The only references we can find for that word describe a Greek God, and an icy moon of Saturn.
Trump:
You have Denmarkians on a moon of Saturn, Mette?
Fredericksen:
Of course not! And it’s ’Danes,’ not, ‘Denmarkians,’ you repulsive, ignorant orange toad!
Etc.
Such is the alleged person that the donkeys and dumb asses of America saw fit to elect as president.
