Pitchin’ Putin

Trump meets with Putin in a couple of days. Now, we know he is not going to talk about further sanctions or Russia conducting cyber warfare into our 2016 elections.

“We don’t know who did it. Coulda been Jina, Iran, North Korea. Coulda been a 400-lb. guy in his shorts sitting on the edge of his bed. Coulda been a 400-lb., soon-to-be ex-governor in his shorts sitting on his provate, secluded beach, avoiding the Sun.”

So, what will they talk about? There was a fake news story circulating around the InterWebs (Don’t you miss George W.?) that Trump was working on a movie script about the rich-to-richer story of his life. What else?

I think Donald is writing a movie script and will pitch his idea to Putin. Should go like this.

They meet in a Moscow hotel. Two chairs and a small coffee table are the only pieces of furniture in the room. Putin is waiting impatiently. Trump finally enters with a flourish.

Trump: “Vlad! Good to see you. How’s my Impaler?”

Trump laughs nervously and extends a tiny hand out in anticipation of clamping down on Putin’s hand with his signature hyper-locomotive hand shake. Putin smirks and brushes away the little, orange hand.

Trump: “Jeez, just like Melania.”

Putin: “Donald, how’s my Useful Idiot? You’ve gained weight, my friend. Too much decadent, American junk food?”

Trump: “Yeah, little bit. Little bit. That’s why I wear this extra-long, apron-like tie. Covers up my protruding belly.”

Putin: “Yeah, let’s go with that. You owe me money, Donald. Lots of money. You and your Victor/Victoria-like son-in-law, Kushner, owe me lots of money. Are you brining me lots of money?”

Trump: “Ah, no. Something even better.”

He reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a binder and slams it on the coffee table.

“Trump: “A movie script! I want you to finance…uh, I mean…executive produce. It will make a billion dollars. Enough to pay you back. That I can tell you.”

Putin: “Donald, Donald. I’m ex-KGB, dictator, political provocateur. I’m not Louis B. Mayer”

Trump: “Billions, Vlad. Billions. Lots of people are saying it’s the greatest script since Jackass 3D.”

Putin: “Wow! That good. Okay, tell me your movie, Donald.”

Trump: “It’s a buddy road picture; like Hope and Crosby, except it’s about you and me. It’s called Road to the Kremlin.”

Putin nods his head in approval and strokes his chin.

Putin: “Interesting. Go on.”

Trump: “So, I’m a professional wrestler. You’re my foreign manager and we’re traveling across the country for a big match in Jersey.”

Putin: “I like it, Donald. What happens on the trip?”

Trump: “We meet chicks. Get laid. Get into bar fights. Rescue puppies. Feed and clothe the poor. The usual road trip picture bullshit.”

Putin: “Can we write a scene where I’m riding on horseback bare-chested?”

Trump: “Done.”

Putin: “What kind of car, Donald?”

Trump: “A sporty, cherry red, Yugo convertible.”

Putin: “Nice touch. And when we get to Jersey, then what?”

Trump: “Big finale. I have this fantastic American-style sumo wrestling match on the Jersey beach against Chris Christie. First, I body slam him. WHAM! Then, I dry hump him. BAM! After that, I toss him under the bus again. THANKL YOU, MA’AM!

Putin: “Fine. But the picture is called Road to the Kremlin. How do we get to the Kremlin?”

Trump: “Turn right at Finland? Kidding. Still working on that. Nobody knew writing a movie script could be so complicated.”

Putin: “Well, Donald, if this picture doesn’t make a lot of money for me, I will write a movie script for you: Road to the Gulag. You know what a gulag is, Donald?”

Trump: “A highly seasoned Hungarian soup or stew of meat and vegetables, flavored with paprika?”

Putin frowns and furrows his brow.

Putin: “M-m-m-m, not quite, my Useful Idiot. Not quite.”