Thursday, March 15, 2018


Gladyce: the McDonald's M is turned upside-down. you know what that means, right? they're practically beckoning for us to come in. this is the perfect place for us to denizen. McDonald's was tailor-made for old people. egg mcmuffins and tiny sweaty orange juice cups at 5AM.

Doryce: don't think about food, it's a fad. this obviously isn't the place. we'll get there. think about all the things we'll do together when we get home. think about the brunch festivals.

Gladyce: the Atlanta one?

Doryce: any brunch festival. we're like digital nomads except we don't get paid.

Gladyce: technomad. you techno mad? all the money these days is in typing, not swimming.

at the State Dinner next to the McDonald's, Putin is holding a reception with contact staff. Papa John is seated down forcefully by Nikki Haley who undoes his ropes behind a locked closet door with one naked light bulb up top on a string.

Nikki: spill.

Papa John: i hate football, and now i hate the other football which is something i never saw coming. after the protests and all the national-anthem disappearings i lost a lot of business. i had to look for work overseas. so i came here to this Russian tv gig. let me tell ya it was not at all what i envisioned. i mean i had to serve Jill Stein. humiliation upon humiliation it was JILL STEIN! i..........just couldn't do was too disgusting.

Jill Stein: *overhearing* not as disgusting as your pizza. i only eat real pizza from Italy.

Papa John: you see? before she could mouth the word organic i flung my silver pizza tray at her. she was able to catch it midflight by moving the silver pizza tray on her head and shooting it back at my head in a silver glow blast. like a sterling-silver stein. it missed cos i'm that short.

Nikki: that was the Sword of Saad, dummy.

Papa John: what is that?

Nikki: something you would never understand. how did you two fare? was the intel good?

Strzok and Page enter the closet and lock the door behind them.

Nikki: got 'im?

Papa John: yeah! got that SOB?

Nikki: not you, foo'

Page wears a derby and chomps on a diner straw. Strzok is jacketless and chews on a café straw.

the agents put their straws into the mouths of Papa John and Nikki, closing their lower jaws for them.

Page: no straws for us, we respect the environment. we sure did! Mueller is strung up like a stuck pig! as the centerpiece on Putin's table! on a silver pizza platter. he's even got a Russian apple in his mouth. which is no apple.

Nikki: need extra rope? i got some.

Page quickly removes the Sword of Saad from off Nikki's crown and places it on top of her own head through her bushy hair.

Nikki: i swear i saw Muller out there. he had a potato in his mouth.

but the vision vanishes into thick air and all Nikki sees at the table now is a sack of potatoes. she then is wearing an apron and buns and preparing the boiled pot potatoes in a large cylindrical titanium pot which doesn't shine. over low blue heat. serving them with a ladle to her yellow-checkered-board atomical family with a '50s smile.

Page: *motioning to her partner* come on, let's get out of here.

Papa John: *squirming* hey! what about me?!

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