JARED and IVANKA are driving to the White House’s annual Easter egg roll. JARED is sulking, listening to his music. IVANKA is parenting the KUSHNER CHILDREN. They’re rehearsing the national anthem of the next head of state they will meet. The DRIVER opens the door for IVANKA and individually validates each child before they run over to the EASTER BUNNY. IVANKA walks over to JARED’s door and opens it. JARED is singing all the Zayn parts of that one Taylor Swift song.
IVANKA [to the DRIVER]: I never knew he was a falsetto. [IVANKA removes Jared’s headphones.] These cancel your sound not ours.
JARED [averting eye contact]: I’m not getting out. [JARED likes Instagram photos of models and of tiny homes in wooded, rainy locations.] Where did Spicer get ‘Holocaust Center’ from? Is it because Bannon uses the expression so often that he internalized it? He makes it sound like an Amazon — like the building where they put together the orders. We read a case about them in business school.
IVANKA [unbuckling Jared’s seatbelt]: An Amazon fulfillment center. Do you really think Steve Bannon would attend this event? He’s with the generals and the other warmongers in Mar-a-Lago. Now get out of the car.
JARED [submitting]: You said we were only hiring Bannon to help flip the racists in Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin. And the election is over.
IVANKA [calmly]: How dare you verbalize that.
[A pickup truck, its bed overflowing with National Park System signage, pulls up behind the Kushner car. STEVE BANNON and REBEKAH MERCER emerge. STEVE BANNON stares at JARED like he is Robert De Niro from Taxi Driver but he ate Robert De Niro from Cape Fear. JARED mouths, “Don’t look at me.”]
STEVE BANNON [sarcastically]: Rebekah, look. It’s the Democrat and his wife, Bitcoin.
[STEVE BANNON walks towards the Easter egg roll. He is carrying a garbage bag and trays of eggs, stacked on top of each other. JARED and IVANKA also walk to the festivities. JARED is texting a friend from college. “Hey, I’m at work now,” JARED types, “Is everything ok?”]
IVANKA [smiling for the crowds of parents and children]: Who are you texting?
JARED: Someone from before. [JARED’s friend responds that everything is cool. He sends a meme of James Harden without a beard. JARED types that he is dying even though he isn’t laughing at all.]
IVANKA [to JARED and to crowds]: Please discontinue.
[Meanwhile a bird craps on STEVE BANNON’s head and face. He licks his face threateningly before he drops the eggs off beside the EASTER BUNNY, who is gathering the children to demonstrate how the race works. The EASTER BUNNY places a row of eggs on the ground and then hands two to JARED and IVANKA. JARED has never handled an egg before, and alarmed by its coldness, he drops it. The egg splatters all over everyone’s expensive shoes. The children also break many eggs, as they attempt to roll them, as instructed, with their noses.]
IVANKA [to the EASTER BUNNY]: Why aren’t these hard-boiled or wooden? I read that they would be wooden.
[The EASTER BUNNY removes its head. It’s KELLYANNE CONWAY.]
KELLYANNE: Yes, of course, Ivanka. I’ve had high-level strategy work, as I expect you understand. The first hundred days rebrand.
MARK BURNETT [rushing towards the stalled egg roll]: What’s going on here? I have the cameras rolling. Do we need to restage this?
KELLYANNE [purring]: Mark! You’re so brilliant to produce this like it’s a reality show. The people love guessing who is next to fall out of the President’s favor.
IVANKA: The liberals, especially, are engaging with the narrative. They enjoy projecting onto us. They enjoy recapping us like we’re “The Sopranos.”
KELLYANNE [feeling on]: What about — and I know we all promised we’d leave everything in the brainstorming session — but hear me out. One hundred days seems like such a long time, especially for our voters. What if we shift the focus to one?
MARK BURNETT [intrigued]: One what?
JARED [imagining what his friends will say about him when he dies]: One term.
IVANKA [feeling powerful]: First term.
[Meanwhile it’s mayhem. STEVE BANNON has gathered a group of the children, and is handing them face wash from one of the garbage bags from REBEKAH MERCER’s pickup. He is directing the children to squeeze the face wash, the kind with microbeads, directly into the sewers.]
IVANKA [to her DRIVER]: Please go stop that.
[GARY COHN walks outside and, as TRUMP’s most favored advisor, presses the button to unfurl the projection screen. TRUMP will speak to the children via streaming image from Mar-a-Lago. GARY and JARED then discuss how public service does have its perks, namely the hours.]
KELLYANNE [sensing alliances are shifting]: How was your Pesach, Gary? Did you get my gift basket from Russ & Daughters?
GARY [high-frequency trading via his Blackberry which he refuses to give up, first out of stubborn yet aloof arrogance and then because it has become so much a part of his personal brand that he couldn’t really ever change now]: Hi Tiffany. I got your email about your best friend’s kid working at Goldman this summer.
KELLYANNE [existentially]: I’m Kelly —
GARY [still high-frequency trading]: What do you think of us keeping Janet Yellen on, Tiffany?
KELLYANNE [messaging herself to send Janet Yellen a pallet of Girl Scout cookies and a signed copy of Sheryl Sandberg’s latest book]: Brilliant idea.
GARY: Hold on. It’s my quant. [GARY answers his Blackberry.] Vlad. Short [GARY covers the receiver while whispering to KELLYANNE] What’s something you need for an abortion? [KELLYANNE negs GARY. He speaks again to Vlad.] And go long on, I guess, our defense contractor stuff.
[TRUMP appears on the projection screen. The children and staff can see and hear him but not vice versa.]
TRUMP: Where are Jared and Steve? Steve, who I barely know by the way. Are they here? Are you two getting along?
[STEVE BANNON chucks a wooden egg, from the stacks of wooden eggs he swapped with KELLYANNE before the roll, at JARED.]
TRUMP: This is such a wonderful day. A great day, better than Obama’s. Better than Crooked Hillary’s. God is — [TRUMP smirks. He looks off camera.] Really? God? [MARK BURNETT cuts off the projection.]
[STEVE BANNON keeps tossing wooden eggs, but most of them miss his target, JARED. Because he is extremely out of shape, the repeated throwing motion injures STEVE BANNON’s back. He hobbles away, into the White House, where he plans to pop some pills and then Dutch oven himself in the smallest bathroom he can find. KELLYANNE explains to the children who remain, covered in yolk and whimpering, that they can’t make a delicious chocolate cake if they don’t crack a few eggs.]
JARED [to GARY COHN]: Okay, how about this one? An Uber but for trash collection. [JARED gestures to REBEKAH MERCER’s pickup.]
GARY [not listening, still high-frequency trading]: Love it, kid.
JARED [triumphantly]: We can hire Bannon next week when he’s out of a job.
GARY [present]: No, wait. He’s the drunk driver, right?
JARED: Steve drinks?