INT, WASHINGTON DC SUBWAY STATION - DAY
Intrepid reporter Zowie Barnes stands at edge of platform. Frank Underworld is right behind her wearing a fedora.
FRANK: Now is our winter of discontent made glorious summer by pushing this pesky reporter in front of a train.
He does. Zowie goes splat. Frank smiles at us, knowingly.
FRANK: The cameras will see nothing, of course. (points at his fedora) I'm wearing a hat.
Subway cops appear, unspooling yellow tape marked: "Dead Reporter: Do Not Cross."
Frank slinks away in the confusion.
A cop points a nightstick at him.
COP: All right you! No breaking the fourth wall!
FRANK: Sorry, officer.
Frank passes a newsstand, does a double-take, buys a Washington Post.
The headline reads --
PRESIDENT FALLGUY RESIGNS
Admits to illegally downloading Metallica in 1999
FRANK smiles.
FRANK: Well, well. Guess everything's going according to plan.
Across the subway station, Shakespeare howls with disgust.
SHAKESPEARE: "Guess everything's going according to plan"...? What kind of lame-ass soliloquy is that?
EXT WHITE HOUSE LAWN - DAY
Frank's impromptu inauguration. His hand is on the Bible. His nose extends to Pinocchio proportions.
FRANK: I, Frank Blahblah, do solemnly swear to blahblah defend the Constitution of the United States of so on and so forth. Blahblahblah. So help me, Blah.
INT, WHITE HOUSE CORRIDOR - DAY
FRANK: Now that pointless voodoo is out of the way, I'll spend some quality time with my psychopathic security chief
INT, WHITE HOUSE CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
Frank enters. Dog sits alone carving a pentagram into the table.
FRANK: Well, Dog. To date, what have we managed to accomplish with our unique blend of lethal talents?
DOG: Well, Mr. President. So far, between the two of us, we've faked a Senator's suicide, killed the prostitute we used to set him up, driven the former President out in disgrace, put you in the Oval Office and flattened that reporter.
FRANK: What about Zowie's editor? That Lupus fellow?
DOG: Neutralized. An elaborate cyber sting
INT, LUPUS' NEWSPAPER OFFICE -- DAY
Lupus sees an envelope on his desk. The label says:
NSA Data Fork inside!!
He removes --
A four-pronged metal fork and an instruction sheet written in crayon.
It reads:
1) Go to National Security Administration.
2) Stick NSA Data Fork in electrical outlet.
3) Steal Frank Underworld's secret files.
INT CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY
FRANK: Damnit, Dog! Lupus may be stupid but he's not that ...
The lights flicker and dim.
FRANK: Well, I stand corrected. Anything else?
DOG: (points to huge pile of papers) Uh, policy stuff
FRANK: Bores the hell out of me. Take the rest of the day off, Dog. Go kill somebody just for fun. You've earned it.
DOG: Thanks, boss.
INT, WHITE HOUSE MASTER BEDROOM
Frank enters. Sits with Eclair in the dormer window. They begin passing a cigarette back and forth.
FRANK: Well my friends. I guess there's nothing left to do but contemplate the sidereal distances between myself and the drop-dead-gorgeous ice queen who is my wife. Eclair and I share zero sexual chemistry.
ECLAIR: But we dearly love swapping ciggies.
FRANK: That we surely do.
He studies her.
FRANK: Well, Eclair, in the words of the vernacular, what's shaking in your part of the world?
ECLAIR: Same old, same old. I got through the first 24 pages of the Kama Sutra with the Russian Prime Minister this morning. After lunch, I set fire to the master negative of "Sam I Am." You?
FRANK: Some Girl Scout looked at me cross-eyed. I pushed her in front of a train.
Obnoxious yammering. (OS) Frank reacts, looks up.
FRANK: Who the ... Oh hell.
ECLAIR: What ...?
Frank points.
FRANK: E-election year.
Frank and Eclair look up in horror at the flat-screen TV mounted on their bedroom wall. The orange face of Donald Trump looks back at them.
TRUMP: President Underworld is a Southern-fried putz. You wanna know something else? The man talks to himself. All the time! I'm not making this up people. I've got it on film!
ECLAIR: That man scares me, Frank.
FRANK: Me too, Eclair. Me, too.
She looks at him intently.
ECLAIR: You wanna watch West Wing?
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