TYRO (astonished): Is he suggesting that Damn Pol Turd’s luxuriant mane is not real?

SULLEN (shaking her head in disbelief): You are amazing!

TYRO: But, but….

SULLEN (interrupting): I invoke the lyrics of “Lola,” by The Kinks: “Little boy, gonna make you a man.” Come with me. I’m going to take you to the seat of power.

TYRO (excited): The White House?!

SULLEN: More or less. Let’s go.

(They exit; blackout)


ACT II, Scene 2

Lobby of the gaudy, poor-taste hotel now located in the Old Post Office Building. SULLEN and TYRO enter.

TYRO: This isn’t the White House; this is the Turd International Hotel.

SULLEN: Same difference. Pol Turd actually spends very little time in the White House, and when he does, he accomplishes nothing. His main activities are golfing, raving on Twitter, having rallies, lying, and spreading COVID-19, which I refer to as Cov[fefe]idiot-20.

TYRO: Yes, I do understand that Pol Turd is a bit reality-challenged.

SULLEN: A bit?! My, my. Aren’t we the master of understatement? As I noted, Pol Turd is rarely in the official residence. And you know who else is rarely there?

TYPRO: Who?

SULLEN: The Slovenian Slut, the golddigger for the orange one who digs goldens. Half the time, she’s shacked up with some boyfriend or other, anyway. I wonder if she showers the tweeter who’s plump, to paraphrase James Taylor.


TYRO: Does Pol Turd know about the boyfriend?

SULLEN: Knows and couldn’t care less…purely transactional relationship, for which I suspect they have a mutually advantageous prenup. And make that “boyfriends,” plural. Meanwhile, he kicked out his two previous spouses and may be tiring of number 3 as well.

(The Pique Chorus has been milling around in the lobby. Two of its three members, Ivan and Marla, step forward and sing.)


“Dew Ladies”
(Parody of “Two Ladies”)

He is on number 3
(three ladies).
1 and 2 yield to 3
(three ladies).
When number 4 we’ll see
for this enbloated man?
Aging is number 3
(still likes it).
Shtupping is number 3
(with sidekick).
Ill at east might be 3…
fear she’ll get dumped?
He’s still on number 3
(three ladies),
but he’s past 70
(he’s fading?).
Number 4 might not be
for this grotesque old man.
It’s said a charm’s time 3
(a tri-tip);
it may require a Cialis nip
shipped from the pharmacy,
to keep it up.
Guy grabs for nooky—
such words he has said.
Number 3’s staying
beside his bewigged head.
But all have this in common,
1, 2, and 3:
The pre-.
It is a must to see,
a pre-.
It is a must to see a pre-.
It was a must to see for all three a pre-,
oh yeah, oh yeah!
And so then he is free
to go off hunting
Till he finds Stormy….


IVANA, MARLA: Hey, Steelea! Get your bum over here and get with the program:

STEELEA (joining the other two): Righty, Ho’s ! (He sings)

But she doesn’t piddle—
that just ain’t right.
She’s paid off by his “lawyer,”
whose term’s pretty slight.
He wants to be with other ladies.
Piddle-dee-pee-pee-pee—
dew ladies—
then a shower of wee
for this eau de pee man.
Piddle-dee-pee-pee-pee—
he likes it,
and he emits a plea:
“Don’t dike it!”
For him it’s eau de vie.
Please fill my cup!!”

ALL THREE:

He is on number 3,
but first she must sign the pre-.
Gone, numbers 2 and 1. So see
What he has got now.
Chump buys bimbos like shares.


SULLEN: I hope that gives you some idea what you’re in for.

TYRO: I have to admit, I am starting to feel a slight sense of trepidation.

SULLEN: That slight sense is quite likely to increase.

TYRO: But is it true about the so-called pee-pee tapes?

SULLEN: Not sure, but it’s pretty obvious that The Capo has something on Pol Turd. Why else would Pol Turd continuously act like a Russian agent?

TYRO: Who is the Capo?

SULLEN: Why Vladimir Putain, of course.

TYRO: You mean the homicidal dictator of Russia?

SULLEN: Who else?

TYRO (puzzled): But Russian is our enemy.

SULLEN: Yours and mine, yes, but….

TYRO: Come to think of it, he is pretty chummy with Put…, uh, The Capo.

SULLEN: “Capo” means “head,” you know, and since Pol Turd’s is nearly vacant, Capo’s fills the vacuum. It’s as if Pol Turd were the recipient of “Abby Normal’s” brain.

TYRO: Love that movie!

SULLEN: But the one we’re in is a reality horror show. Let’s exit.

(They leave; blackout)