Saturday, September 19, 1998

Oral Office Update

INT, White House bedroom. CLINTON and HILLARY in bed -- not Hillbillies. CLINTON wakes up with a shocked expression on his face.

CLINTON: Dang, just had me the weirdest dream. You and me were hillbillies -- like Jed and Granny. Ain't that a kick in the head?

HILLARY snorts.

HILLARY: Just a dream, Bill.

CLINTON: Worse than that ... you cut me off 'cause I'd given up on health care. (puts hands over groin area nervously) "No more nookie for you." That's what you said.

HILLARY: That's no dream.

CLINTON: That ain't funny.

HILLARY: No it isn't. No more nookie for you.


HILLARY: Not until you deal with health care.

CLINTON: But Hon...we tried that, remember? Try it again, they'll carve me a new asshole. Another one. (he shifts uncomfortably)

HILLARY: That's your problem.

CLINTON: Can't you just...

Abruptly, she turns away from him, her back an S-curve, the bumps of her spine like the ridges of a frozen mountain range, impossible, impassible. Clinton reaches out to touch her.

CLINTON: How 'bout just a massage, then?

He strokes her back. Electric sparks shoot out. He jerks his hand away.

CLINTON: Owwwww.....It's that damn vast right wing conspiracy again, ain't it? They put his idea in your head! I know it!

HILLARY: Stop blaming everything on the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy.


ALIEN speaking into microphone looking at Interossiter display of HILLARY in bed.

ALIEN: Cut Bill off. No more nookie for you. Cut Bill off. No more nookie for you.

Cut to EXT, starfield. We hear a low, throbbing, thrumming noise due to the assholic convention of sound in the vacuum of space. A metallic sphere emerges into view: it looks like the Death Star out of Star Wars. It comes closer. In one quadrant, an enormous crack'n'peel label announces "VAST RIGHT WING CONSPIRACY STAR." Underneath, in smaller letters: "your ad here."

Go to: earth. EXT, rooftop. MINISTER FARRAKHAN squinting through a battered Tasco telescope.

FARRAKHAN: Goddamnit, I knew it! It's the cracker flying saucer! How come nobody believed me 'bout the cracker flying saucer?

INT: cavernous imperial audience chamber inside the VAST RIGHT WING CONSPIRACY STAR. NEWT, STARR and SCAIFE enter. The enormous, shimmering holographic form of Nixon's face appears before them. They kneel before their undead Emperor...

NIXON: I am the great and powerful Wizard of the Republican Party! Death has only made me stronger! What the fuck do you want?

SCAIFE: (in Darth Vader costume) We await your bidding, O master.

NIXON: Goddamnit, you know what my fucking bidding is. Dirty tricks. Do a number on that goddamn Arkansas hillbilly. Get to his wife! Put ideas in her pointy little head. Slap his hand when he reaches for the nookie jar! I told you what to do!

SCAIFE: We started.

NIXON: Goddamnit, don't start. Do it! Make a fucking example of him. He fucked with insurance. Nobody fucks with insurance. Nobody! That's the fucking third rail and he touched it and now he must pay. Clinton must be destroyed!

SCAIFE: We will destroy him, O Master.

NIXON: Dig for dirt. Throw some money at some hungry reporter on that American Spectator of yours. Keep throwing shit until some of it sticks!

SCAIFE: Yes, O Master.

NIXON: Today we shall see the democratic rebellion crushed for the...

Beeping noise.

NIXON: Our total domination of the...

More obnoxious beeping. NIXON stops talking.

We still hear the beeping noise. It's some gadget in NEWT's pocket.

Everybody turns to look at him, including the enormous and enormously displeased disembodied sepulchral head of NIXON. NEWT's desperately fishing in his pockets to find the beeping gadget...

NEWT: Uh...sorry.

NIXON: What the hell is that?

NEWT: PDA. Personal digital ...

NIXON: I know what the fuck it is!

SCAIFE: He's been unbearable, O Master. Ever since they put him on the cover of Wired magazine.

NIXON: You have failed me for the last time.

NEWT starts to choke. Continues to choke through the scene.

SCAIFE: I beg you not to kill him, O master.

NIXON: You're next, asshole.

SCAIFE: The plan, remember? We need him for the plan.

NIXON: The plan?

SCAIFE: Deprive Clinton of sex; Newt shuts down the government; we send an intern to the Oval Office with takeout food?

NIXON: -- and Clinton fucks himself out of the White House. Right. That's the plan.

SCAIFE: It's a very good plan.

NIXON: Of course it's a good plan! It's my fucking --

SCAIFE: He's turning blue, O Master.

NIXON: Oh, right.

NEWT stops choking.

Earth. EXT, city streets. Lone man running...

FARRAKHAN: (running through the streets) Watch the skies! Watch the skies!

The next day ...

EXT Washington DC. CLINTON in the Presidential limo. His driver is driving randomly around the beltway while CLINTON sits in the back, pouting, seething in the depths of sexual deprivation. He looks to the left, he looks to the right. Wherever he looks, everything seems sexual...

The Jefferson Monument. Very tit-like.

The Capitol dome. Owww.....

Washington Monument. Like an enormous, thrusting...

All those bursting cherries along the Potomoc.

He returns to the White House. SOCKS looks at him. CLINTON looks back. Smiles. SOCKS runs...

Go to: INT, White House bathroom. CLINTON taking cold shower...

CLINTON: Owww.....owwwwwwww.....goddamnit, oww. Cold showers my ass! This is supposed to work but is sure as hell ain't. Oww....

INT: hotel room. The Whitewater investigation team buried under a mountain of paper...

STARR: I can't believe this! He itemized the paperclips! Every last one of them!

FLUNKY: We've got to find something....

STARR: Then do it, OK? Do I have to do everything, people?

Go to: CLINTON in conference with JANET RENO.

RENO: ...may say you can't afford the budget for any more killer robots, but I can't afford to lose any more of my people.

CLINTON: (staring at her dreamy-eyed) Janet?

RENO: Sir?

CLINTON: Anyone ever tell you you've got beautiful eyes?

She looks at him. Blinks. Punches the shit out of him.

Go to black-eyed CLINTON at breakfast table, pouring mounds of saltpeter on his breakfast cereal, crunchingly eating it...

Go to, INT, Whitewater investigation team in an avalanche of paper...

FLUNKY: I'm afraid she did send thank-you cards.

STARR: Dingdong darn it! Throw somebody in jail or something. A woman or somebody who's dying. And harrass a journalist while you're at it...

FLUNKY: Yes sir.

STARR: (storming out) I'm having a very bad day, people!

INT, darkened parking garage. STARR storming along in a funk...

MYSTERIOUS VOICE: Follow the pussy.

STARR: (stopping) Excuse me?

LINDA TRIPP steps out of the shadows.

LINDA: I said follow the pussy. It's all about pussy.

STARR: Get away from me!

LINDA: (grabbing him by the lapels) It's all about pussy, you little pussy -- don't you know that?

STARR: You're scaring me!

LINDA: Pussy!

STARR: Ew! I hate that word!

LINDA: (slaps him) Don't be a pussy, pussy! You want the President? Clinton's a dick -- wanna catch a dick? Find the pussy. Follow the pussy!

He runs away.


A tattered Washington Post blows into frame on the sidewalk. Headline reads: GOVERNMENT SHUT DOWN! Blows away. We see scuffed dirty shoes. Pan up to reveal FARRAKHAN, now in tatters, ringing a bell like the crazy prophet in The Stand.

FARRAKHAN: It's happening people! The Vast Right Wing Conspiracy! Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!

Go to, INT, CLINTON in staff meeting with Presidential interns, MONICA included, all of whom (though this may be a sex-starved distortion of Presidential perception) seem to be female and beautiful, none of whom seem to be wearing bras. It's day one of the governmental shut-down and he's just given them a peptalk.

CLINTON: ...assume additional duties. You up for it?

ALL OF THEM: (breathlessly) Yes, Mister President.

CLINTON blinks, pops a Spanish Fly bon-bon in his mouth, chews slowly, blinks again. All the women seem to be naked. He chews thoughtfully...

MONICA: Could I have one of those, Mister President? I think I want to put something in my mouth right now...

He smiles, hands her one. MONICA takes it. Slowly puts it in her mouth. Slowly, slowly chews. The other women shoot her dirty looks. One puffs up her mouth full of air, miming "No wonder she's fat." But CLINTON sees none of that. He's just chewing, chewing, chewing. MONICA does the same. They're in oral synch together...

CLINTON looks at MONICA; MONICA looks at him. Thick sexual tension. Rapid Tom Jonesish crosscutting of kissylip moues, winks, tongue licks...

CLINTON: (getting up from the table, stretching) Well, ladies. I'd like to thank y'all for com-com-com...for being here, but I guess that's it, y'all can go. Me? (loudly) Guess I'll take me a stroll back to windowless hallway adjacent to my study in the south south-west quadrant of the White House in approximately 7 minutes.

NIXON: And so it begins...


MARILYN MONROE singing seductively....

MARILYN: Happy birthday, Mr. President. Happy birthday to you.


MONICA: Can I suck your dick?

CLINTON leans back his head. Groaning....

CLINTON: Must...preserve...precious...bodily...fluids....

As in Porky's, NEWT and STARR have drilled a peephole into the White House and are peering in...

STARR: Ohmygod that's just awful.

NEWT: Let me see.

STARR: Ohmygod.

And so it goes on...

INT, Oval Office

ARAFAT walks into Oval Office. Sees CLINTON with fly open, dick hanging out.

ARAFAT: (Cornholio accent) Oh. A thousand apologies, affendi. Is this the customary greeting in your country?

He unzips his own fly -- but CLINTON shoves him out.

ARAFAT: Owww! The zeeeeeper!

Slams door.

CLINTON: (to Monica) Alone at last.

ARAFAT: (through the walls) Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

CLINTON: We have so much in common. I love Fleetwood Mac.

ARAFAT: Bactine! Someone bring me the bactine!

MONICA: And I love Fleetwood Mac.

ARAFAT: No, not rubbing alcohol you fool!

CLINTON: I've got plastic hair.

MONICA: And so do I!

They both smile wickedly. Clinch. Tongue-kiss. She slides down...

ARAFAT: Aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

CLINTON: Wanna see my Southern strategy? (he slides down)

MONICA: No, no,'s my time.

CLINTON: (sliding back up) My you were raised right. But I see a way out of this, kiddo.

He reaches into a humidor stuffed with illegal, imported Cuban cigars -- thinks better of it -- reaches into another cheapo cigarbox and pulls out a White Owl...

The camera discretely pans to the window where ARAFAT is running around screaming in the Rose Garden...

Go to EXT, White House corridor. STARR and NEWT crouched down in the shadows. STARR peering in through the peephole...

STARR: It's so big!

And on....

INT, Oval Office. CLINTON and MONICA sit naked before a pentagram. Candles burn.

CLINTON: ...faust, aleph, null -- and let "do what thou wilt be the whole of the law!"

The candles flare. CLINTON turns, smiling charmingly to MONICA.

CLINTON: Anyways that's how we summon Satan back where I come from...

MONICA: Geez, Mr. President. You really know so much.

CLINTON: (looking at watch) Oh my word...the prayer breakfast. Gotta go, kiddo.

He runs out -- then runs back in for his pants and runs out again.

And so it goes on. The growing scandal. Throbbing just below the surface ready to burst at any moment...

INT, White House hallway outside the President's office. Two SECRET SERVICE AGENTS just standing there like beefeaters. Monolithic. Impassive.

MONICA walks by holding a pizza. Goes into President's office...

Next day...

MONICA walks by holding a sack of food from McDonalds.

Next day...

MONICA walks by with takeout from Long John Silver's.

GUARD #1: Something's up.

GUARD #2: You got that right.

Go to: INT, Oval Office...

MONICA and CLINTON sitting together, munching down on Taco Supremes...salsa packets and sacks from Taco Bell scattered recklessly across the room.

CLINTON: Goddamn this is better than sex.

MONICA: (mouth full) Uh-hmmm.

CLINTON: Goddamn it, I'm the President and I can eat anything I want! To hell with cholesterol! Never say diet!

MONICA: (pointing) Mmmm-mmm.

CLINTON: Oh. Here you go, kiddo.

He hands her a packet of salsa.

MONICA: Mm-ooo.

CLINTON: You're welcome.

(They continue hog heaven)

And then comes President's Day...

MONICA bursts into the hallway. CLINTON follows.

MONICA: You bastard!

CLINTON: I'm sorry, kiddo...

MONICA: My name's not kiddo!

CLINTON: Just the thought of honest Abe and little George Washington and the cherry tree. I just cain't...

MONICA: There's somebody else!

CLINTON: Hillary?

MONICA: I mean somebody else else.

CLINTON: There's nobody else else. (noticing the Secret Service agents) Oh. Hello, boys. Heh-heh.

AGENTS: Hello, Mister President.

CLINTON: Just a little old Christmas pageant we're rehearsing. Page 52.

AGENTS: Yes, Mister President.

CLINTON: Ain't that right, kiddo. I mean, Miss...

MONICA: And to think I supersized you!

She runs out weeping.

CLINTON: Great job, kid! Thumbs up! That was totally convincing.

He goes back inside the office.

INT, Oval Office. CLINTON kneeling in prayer.

CLINTON: Carter committed adultery in his heart -- and thinking's the same as doing it? The Clinton corrollary: If'n you don't think you did it, you didn't. And I didn't, Lord. (boyish smile) Honest. As far as I'm concerned, I didn't do it, besides which I repent, so I don't think I'm gonna do it anymore, and that's the same as not doing it. And I defy you to list me one passage in Your Holy Word dealing with blow-jobs as adultery or defining sex qua sex. Just one...hmmm? I didn't think so. Amen.

INT, MONICA and LINDA at breakfast table. LINDA stirring tea. The spoon dissolves. MONICA doesn't notice.


MONICA: Oh. Like thanks.

LINDA slides the tea to MONICA who lifts it up, sips it.

MONICA: Mmmm...

LINDA: It's tannis root.

MONICA: Is that, like, organic?

LINDA: Eee-heee-heee ... something like that.

MONICA: (sipping) You're really something special, Linda.

LINDA: Eh-heh-heee. Thanks, dearie.

MONICA: Thank God I gotta friend in this goddamn town, y'know?

LINDA: (wincing at the word "God") Yessss. Apple?

She hands MONICA an apple. MONICA takes it. Starts to bite.

LINDA: No, no, no...the OTHER side, yesss. It's so

MONICA, obediantly, rotates the apple, bites from the other side.

LINDA: That's it. Eat, my dear. Eat.....

MONICA: (chatty, chum to chum, talking with a mouth full of apple) Have you ever like cared about somebody but they don't like care about you? Or maybe, like, they care, but they don't, like, show it? Or maybe they're just, like, using you?

LINDA: Mmmhmmmm. (leaning forward, conspiratorial) Anyone I know?

MONICA: As if! Like if you knew you'd just'd be all like, no way!

LINDA: Try me.

MONICA: Yeah. I mean no. I mean, like, I wanna tell you, but, like, I said I wouldn't and a promise is a promise.

LINDA: But a friend is a friend. It's not the same as telling someone else if you tell it to me, my pretty.


We hear a loud, audible CLICK.

MONICA: What was that?

LINDA: Nothing, nothing. Just my...guess I'm just an old lady and I'm having a little problem with my pipes, dearie. You will excuse me?

MONICA: Anyth...

LINDA: I'll be all right.

INT, bathroom. LINDA removes microcassette recorder from her snatch. Opens it, reverses tape.

LINDA: Goddamnit, I KNEW I should've gotten the auto-reverse. That's what I get for being a penny pincher...

She slides it back in. Returns....

LINDA: Much better. You were saying?

MONICA: Try the P...

LINDA: Just a minute.

LINDA spreads her legs.

LINDA: Ah. That's better....

EXT, MONICA's apartment. LINDA heading out the door. MONICA saying goodbye. She seems grateful...

LINDA: Now, remember what I told you! He needs to make a commitment.

MONICA: God you're such a friend.

LINDA: Just trying to help, dearie.

CLINTON: doing anything tonight? know I care about you...I'm thinking about you all the time, why do you think I'm calling? So I'm just thinking if you're not doing anything, you want to come over, kiddo? Maybe we could do something. Maybe we could try something new. I'm thinking, like, y' ever suborned purjury before?

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