Oral Office 2

ORAL OFFICE #2
or...
Meatloaf Surprise

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 Domino's 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: (stupid-happy chewing) 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 munching...in hog heaven)


And then comes President's Day...

MONICA bursts into the hallway. CLINTON follows. The stone-faced AGENTS watch.

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. A little method acting, heh-heh...

AGENTS: Yes, Mister President.

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

MONICA: And to think I supersized you!

She runs out weeping. Runs away...

CLINTON: Great job, kid! Thumbs up! (he does the gesture) That was totally convincing, uh...really like the way you use your instrument.

CLINTON looks at the AGENTS. They're not buying it. He drops it. Goes back inside the office. They just stand there...


Go to: NEWT and STARR in some conspiratorial office cube.

NEWT: Are we ready?

STARR: (flush with excitement) I feel like a Jr. G-Man.

NEWT: I said, are we ready?

STARR: Herbert Hoover was one of my role models, you know.

NEWT: Goddamnit...are we ready yes or no?

STARR: We're ready yes and no.

NEWT: Argghhhhh....

STARR: See...ever since you broke the surveillance camera, well, we don't have the smoking gun, so to speak...

NEWT: But we've got the tape.

STARR: The tape. Oh the tape...

NEWT: Oh yeah.

STARR: Linda's tape.

NEWT: That's the one.

STARR: I just forgot all about that...

STARR smiles. Hands NEWT Linda's tape -- this one labelled "Deep Intern." NEWT pops the tape in a tape recorder. Hits play.

COOKIE MONSTER: C is for cookie...that's good enough for me! C is for cookie...that's good enough for me!

NEWT: Arrgghhhh!

COOKIE MONSTER: Cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C!

NEWT smashes the tape recorder. Collapses in despair...

STARR: Don't give up now!

NEWT moans.

STARR: We'll just have to get another one, won't we?

NEWT's moans increase -- STARR's not cheering him up.

LINDA TRIPP appears in a puff of smoke...

LINDA: That can be arranged, my pretties. That can be arranged. Ahahaha. AHAHAHAHAHA!

STARR: Make her stop!

NEWT: God, what a woman.


CUT to: LINDA flying through sky on broom...


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: 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.

LINDA: Tea?

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 much...sweeter...eh-heh-heh...

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 like...you'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.

MONICA: OK. So...

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, dear...


INT, bathroom. LINDA waddle-shuffles in, 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. Starts to leave -- then flushes toilet.


Returns....

LINDA: Much better. You were saying?

MONICA: Try the P...

LINDA: Just a minute.

LINDA spreads her legs.

LINDA: Ah. That's better. And do speak up. (rubbing thighs) My old ears just aren't what they used to be. I'm just an old, old lady.

MONICA: Oh stop!

They smile, exchanging glances of affection.

LINDA: Now you were saying?

MONICA resumes talking...


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.

MONICA waves. LINDA waves back. Walks away. Eyes narrowing darkly...

LINDA: Just trying to....help.


INT, cave, ante-room to hell or rented self-storage space. LINDA, shrouded in darkness and the inward darkness of her inmost hate. Drawing a deadstick in dead dust. Laughing. Drawing the sign of the pentagram...


Which dissolves into the Pentagon. Camera flies down into MONICA's office. MONICA sits. Bored in the loveless warcube. Just staring at the phone. It rings. Sad eyes joyful again. She reaches...


The duststick stabs into the heart of the pentagram. Dark runes. Dark, gibbering incantations. Dissolve to...


INT: White House basement. CLINTON on the redhot phone chatting to MONICA.

CLINTON: Well sure I missed you. Course. No it's not just physical -- I mean it. I really missed you, kiddo. You're not like...

Situation maps behind him, blinking with graphics of missiles, global hotspots, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. CLINTON ignores it. Shmoozing on the phone to MONICA. The eternal adolescent...

CLINTON: Hey...here's a thought, kinda wild and crazy thought. You doing anything tonight? Aw...you 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'know...you ever suborned purjury before?


INT, Oval Office. CLINTON, in his boxers, smiles, greets MONICA as she enters. He holds up two plastic tubs...

CLINTON: Look. I brought some cream cheese.
MONICA: God you're so oral!
CLINTON: It's lite cream cheese...
MONICA: Were you like weaned too soon or something?
CLINTON: Listen, kiddo...
MONICA: Don't call me kiddo.
CLINTON: OK, uh...uh...
MONICA: You don't even name -- do you huh? HUH?

Freeze frame on CLINTON's noggin. Go to cutaway of his brain. Anacin-animated graphic, wheels turning inside his head. We hear a voiceover. CLINTON's voice.

CLINTON VOICEOVER: Inski, pinksi, Jerzy Kosinksi...no, no, no Prez on water Being There, Kaczynski, no that's the Unabomber, inski, inski, law, Lawinksi first name mnemonic, mnemonic fat chick in Santa Monica wearing monocle Monocle Lawinski no, no...yes...

Time unfreezes...

CLINTON: Monica. And it's a beautiful beautiful name...
MONICA: Do you love me?

Freeze frame. Inside CLINTON's head. Lawyer wheels turning.

CLINTON VOICEOVER: Well it depends on your definition of love. The Greeks had -- scratch that. Emotional appeal.

CLINTON: Baby...

MONICA: Don't baby me, you shmuck. If you really loved me there'd be penetration.

CLINTON: You know I don't....

MONICA: Goddamnit...I NEED CLOSURE!

CLINTON: C'mere, kiddo.

Her resistance melts. Like two magnetic doggies, they animal-magnetize together, clinch, start to kiss. MONICA slides, down, down, down, out of sight, working. CLINTON reacts -- reaches for shelf -- pulls sax, wails a tune -- Meatloaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Light." CLINTON puts down the sax -- the score still playing. He sings, Meatloaf music accompanying him on the soundtrack...

CLINTON: Golden glow like McDonald's in the middle of the night
Golden arches glowing, coming just in sight...
Though it's cold and lonely in the White House Night...
I can feel paradise when you suck me tight!

Ain't no doubt about it
I like it when you fress!
Cause if I do not penetrate
It's not really sex...

RADIO BROADCAST: OK, here we go, Ken Starr's really got the pressure going in the 16th month of his investigation. Two in jail, 27 indictments including possible obstruction of justice and subornation of perjury but it looks like, once again, William Jefferson Clinton is coming through it without a....

She pushes him away.

MONICA: Stop right there!
I gotta know right now!
Before we go any further!
Do you love me?
Could you do it above me?
Will you win me --
Like you'd maybe come in me?
Will you make me so happy for the rest of my life?
Will you pillory Hillary...will you make me your wife?

CLINTON: Let me sleep on it...
Baby, baby let me sleep on it...

MONICA: I gotta know right now...

CLINTON: Let me sleep on it...

MONICA: Stop waffling, asshole!

CLINTON: Let me...


Yeah, well, we can see where this scene is going. MONICA exits the White House, satisfied, satisfied. Drives away in some insectoid 90210 convertible, wind whipping her hair just like in the commercials....


EXT, Washington DC. CLINTON walking smugly on the surface of the reflecting pool...

INT, MONICA's apartment. She enters, holding blue dress. Walks in to bedroom -- puts dress in extremely large walk-in closet. Lots of other dresses hanging there. Fitted with tags reading: Yassir Arafat, Zubin Mehta, Boris Yeltsin, Speedy Alka Seltzer, Larry Harmon, Moahmar Khaddafi, Bigfoot, Deng Whatsisface Ping, etc....

MONICA: Mental note. Make time for self to alphabetize closet.

She takes a cel-phone off a dresser, punches number. Walks out of bedroom, talking what may or may not be Russian...


EXT, Washington DC. CLINTON walking on water -- then sinks.


LINDA clutches enormous greenish globe, swirling clouds within revealling all.

LINDA: Ah-hahaaha...

She reaches out her clawlike hand, expectantly. A FLYING MONKEY brings her the phone. She speed dials....


INT, MONICA's apartment. Flour-dusted MONICA whipping up a bundt cake. Looking oddly domestic. Phone cradelled ear to shoulder...

LINDA: What's the dish, dearie?
MONICA: Just between you me and the four walls?
LINDA: My mouth to God's ears.
MONICA: He did the deed.
LINDA: No!
MONICA: Yeah.
LINDA: No...yeah?
MONICA: Yeah.
LINDA: The full nasty?
MONICA: No, but I think like this time he committed himself. Like when the guy's like holding back and you're all like what are you afraid of and...
LINDA: I want details!
MONICA: Swear-to-god you tell nobody?
LINDA: I swear.
MONICA: Swear?
LINDA: Monica! How can you hurt me like that! Who's your friend in this town?
MONICA: Sor-ry.
LINDA: So the dirt.
MONICA: The secret dies with you?
LINDA: Monica!
MONICA: So, OK. Anyway he's like....

Dish, dish, dish, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt. Go to LINDA's witchy eyrie, MONICA's voice nattering on in moist particularity, camera pulling back to reveal the tangled wires, banks of blinking lights and rows of slowly, slowly turning, reel-to-reel audiotape of LINDA's vast taping system. The system is manned -- or maybe it's better to say monkeyed -- by the FLYING MONKEYS....


INT -- White House bedroom.

CLINTON adjusting tie, looking at self in mirror.

CLINTON: Being in itself, being for others, en-soi, en neant. I'm no goddamn hick...

A final twist. He winks at himself. SELF winks back, surrealistically off-synch. He strides out of the bathroom, dressed for success. Rooster-like, smug, he walks out of the bathroom, sees HILLARY sitting on the edge of the well-made White House bed.

CLINTON: My last day of questioning Hillary -- and the Kenster's got nothing on me --
HILLARY: Nothing?
CLINTON: Rien. Vince Foster suicide, banking conspiracies, one horseshit thing after another. Just one big multimillion dollar goosegg when the rubber meets the road. Enough to make you wanna give 'em some goddamn thing to investigate, know what I'm saying?

She looks at him darkly. CLINTON smiles back at her -- nervously, boyishly, bullshittishly -- then strides out.


EXT, Washington Expressway. Presidential limo stopped by cop.

CLINTON: Goddamn it, I'm not a Clinton impersonator.
DRIVER: Sir. I've attempted to...
CLINTON: Anyways when you say stopped, you know, what's stopped. According to Zeno's paradox an arrow moves yet it's an infinite series of points in which the arrow doesn't move, yet somehow....
COP: (ripping up ticket) It's him...


INT, STARR CHAMBER, a cliche courtroom, fans turning, galleries of spectators fanning themselves. STARR, playing the underestimate-me fool, bobbles up to CLINTON. MisterRogers seasoned lightly with Anthony Perkins. Tim Conway with a dash of Linda Blair....

STARR: Please...please...gosh, wow you look Presidential in person, anyways...(making like he's in awe -- hands fluttering in aborted, insecure, apologetic gestures) ...what was I saying...anyways, p-please accept my deep apologies for having wasted so much of your time....Mr. President. This is but a mere, mmmm...formality....
CLINTON: (expansively) You got your job to do. I got mine.
STARR: (reading from sheet of paper -- he squints, puts on goofball reading glasses) So, uh, the s-score is...the results. OK. What it says here...uh...this 40 million dollar, uh, sheet of p-paper, anyways, it says you're clear on Whitewater, Simon pure when it comes to Travelgate, Filegate's neither here nor there, old Vince pulled a Brody, the rest of it's he said, she said and...mmm...(adjusting ridiculous reading specs) evidently, uh, looks like evidently you evidently did not kill the dinosaurs or Jesus Christ. I think we're just about ready to wrap this up. One last question?
CLINTON: Hit me.
STARR: Have you ever cheated on your wife? (Gotcha! Gotcha! Gotcha! Now Boyscout pissant prissy...) Remember Mr. President...you are under oath.

No reaction in CLINTON's face. He eyes STARR. STARR eyes him back.

Above, the turning fans turn slower...slower...

Distorted sound. Dramatic thud.

Cut to: star-spattered black of deep space, suns, planets, asteroids wheeling. Clockwork racheting on the soundtrack...

And then the machinery of the heavens impercetibly slows and stops, the grinding, chittering clockwork noise of the heavenly spheres turning to terrible silence as CLINTON approaches the cusp of this decision point -- that mystic whatsis poised in the realm of the transcendental unity of apperception, in time but outside of time, clown's mouth at the end of the funhouse ride where you gotta get off -- CLINTON's astral body roaring down the downside of the cosmic rollercoaster, approaching, I say, the delta-T of choice, that terrible mystery by which, moment by moment, we create and destroy infinite universes with every act, OK, whatever. Drumroll. The envelope please.

CLINTON: No I did not.

Flags across America burst spontaneously into flame; mystic runes coagulate in the alphabet soup of children everywhere spelling dark messages of doom; a skeleton begs for a crust of bread; Sting bursts spontaneously into flame; the car won't start;
flaming angels fall from the heavens; the veil in the Holy of Holies rips from top to bottom; she doesn't return your phone calls; the crack in the Liberty Bell widens; he does return your phone calls; the statue of Lincoln in the Lincoln Memorial cries a single bloody tear; dogs howl; milk curdles; a rough rude beast slouches to Bethlehem to be born as a stupid monk, poking his head out of this world into the machinery of time space and dimension and going oh wow, gets his head crushed by the once-more turning heavenly spheres.


INT, VAST RIGHT WING CONSPIRACY STAR

NIXON rampant in the Satan throne. NEWT, HELMS and other Republican orcs thronging around him in a spasm of celebration, LINDA TRIPP dancing widdershins, clutching her hands and cackling. Yep, we're feeling good on the old VRWCS tonight -- that good old Walpurgisnacht groove so thick you could cut it. Only KEN STARR seems unmoved. Oddly centered....

NIXON: Ah, I feel a surge in the dark side. Yes. Yes...

Clenching fists together drawing bluewhite forks of energy into himself...

KEN STARR smiles.

Part Mona Lisa...

Part Quaker Oats man...

And even the dancing devils scream with fear.



LINDA: (roaring through the sky on her broom) Ah-hahahahaha!

KEN STARR

's neighborhood

wow. When I grow up I wanna be President.
I am your father search your feelings you know it to be true.


INT, White House hallway outside the President's office. Two SECRET SERVICE AGENTS just standing there. Groaning sex noises from within.

MONICA: Oh....ohhhh....SUPERSIZE ME!

They don't react.

It could be worse.
How could it be worse...




STARR:

I am your father search your feelings you know it to be true.






No problem

One last question

Shoot.




Case