SCENE: McDONALD’S DRIVE-THRU
A late-model Toyota Sienna pulls into view in through the Iowa darkness. The headlights cast forward and further illuminate the drive-thru pickup area.
A hand reaches out through the dusty window as GARY JOHNSON comes into view. His unruffled hair falls out of his employee hat.
Good evening, guys. You seemed to have missed the whole point of the speaker back there as that’s where your order is supposed to originate.
NEWT GINGRICH pokes his head out of the driver’s window. Portly and unkempt, he’s either a politican or a vacuum cleaner salesman.
I AM THE SPEAKER YOU SECONDHAND POLESMOKER! I MAKE THE RULES!
MITT ROMNEY leans forward. He’s stoic and manly much like Clint Eastwood or the Allstate Mayhem guy.
Calm down, Newt. We don’t need any more distractions, let’s just order our food.
Fine, fine. Michelle, what do you want?
MICHELLE BACHMANN leans forward from the middle seat. She doesn’t appear to be the ‘shit on a floor and wipe it on the wall with your hand’ crazy, but rather the ‘shit on a floor and wipe it on the wall with a paintbrush’ crazy.
I’m a little bit concerned that by ordering this, I’ll be furthering the case for Obamacare as fast food weight gain is one of the main reasons Obamacare needs to be repealed. Combined with Dodd-Frank, it’s readily apparent that-
JESUS CHRIST ON A STICK, SHE’LL HAVE A GRILLED CHICKEN SANDWICH!
(leans forward to Johnson, whispering)
Do you think she likes me? She’s been giving me the crazy-eye all night and I really, really want to hit it.
RON PAUL ducks his head forward. He looks like… a doctor.
Why do you have so many burgers on your menu? Quarter pounders, small burgers, Angus burgers. At least four of those need to be cut out.
YOU WILL SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO, OLD MAN! The only reason you are here is because of your senior discount so know your role.
Oh. Well, I’ll have a #2 with a Coke.
Goddamn right you will.
(turns to Mitt)
What about you, pussy?
I’ll have the #1 with a Sprite.
Alright, what about-
Actually, I’m going to go with the #6 with a Dr. Pepper.
Fine, #6. Herman, what do you-
On second thought, get me a 20 piece nugget, no drink.
(rubs face dejectedly)
I would normally ask you what type of sauce you prefer, but seeing as how no one cares what I say, you’re getting BBQ.
HERMAN CAIN rises from the backseat. He broadly smiles much like he won the lottery. The other alternative is that he’s a smug asshole.
McDonald’s… McDonald’s, McDonald’s, McDonald’s.
(pause, looks upward)
McDonald’s… sells food, correct?
Food that causes Obamacare to rear it’s ugly Dodd-Frank.
Herman Cain is prepared to order. I’ve got a pretty bold plan on what I’m going to eat tonight.
And that is?
I’ll have a #999. Please build my face in pickles on the meat.
Herman, they don’t have a #999. They don’t even have a #9. Could you perhaps actually read the menu before you order?
It’s not my nature to read the menu, I simply do what my advisors state I should do. I’m a leader, not a reader.
Perhaps you could do some leading and PLACE A FUCKING ORDER!
Ok, ok, ok, let’s do this. I’ll have a #6 and a #3. Combine the two of them into one sandwich, please.
Your existence irritates me. Is there anything else?
RICK PERRY literally jumps out of the backseat forward onto Paul. Visibly distressed, he pushes Perry back.
I’ll have a McChicken sandwich, a McDouble and… uh… uh…
No, uh… um… I forgot. Oops.
RICK SANTORUM turns on the back dome light. Rick does not work for Google.
I am not responsible for Rick. He’s been stealing my iPod all night. He keeps listening to my Lady Gaga songs. I’m thinking about bombing his house.
Both of you twerps can suck a fattie. Give them both Big Mac meals with Cokes and piss in their fries if you know what’s good for you.
That’s a pretty bold solution, Newt. Want to be my VP?
About as likely as me staying monogamous. How much do we owe?
Pay the man, Mittens.
Sure thing. Who wants to have a money fight after we get back to the hotel?
Everyone laughs heartily. Johnson takes Romney’s American Express black card and slides it.
You realize that you’re all inconsiderate twats, right?
Rich inconsiderate bad-words to you, sir.
A loud pounding emanates from the top of the van. Strapped to the top in a dog cage is JON HUNTSMAN. If he’s a car salesmen, he at least looks like a general manager.
Can I get a-
FUCK OFF, PING PONG CHI! I don’t trust anybody that’s bilingual or cultured.
Johnson hands them their food. Newt steals fries from everyone as he hands them back.
Here you go and have a good night. I would hate to waste all that money you guys will be doing the next few months.
Suck it, 99%'er.
Aw shit, Mittens, panhandler at three o'clock.
TIM PAWLENTY, disheveled and homeless, wanders to Mitt’s side of the car.
Can I have a nugget?
Gingrich steps on the gas as the Sienna peels out and runs over Pawlenty’s foot. He falls to the ground writhing in pain.
The entire car rises in mocking laughter as it tears out of the parking lot and into the intersection. Without warning, a giant black tour bus with ‘Obama 2012’ plows into the Sienna. A massive explosion ensues as the Sienna is blown to pieces, it’s occupants consumed in flames as debris litters the road.
The bus charges down the dark road by itself. A groggy BARACK OBAMA appears from behind the driver’s seat. The bus is being piloted by DAVID AXELROD.
What was all the commotion?
Nothing big. We just ran over the republican field for next year is all.
Well, I’m going back to sleep. See you at the White House.
FADE TO BLACK