This is a transcript of a Situation Room recording provided to us exclusively by Omarosa Maginault Newman.
Or it’s a horror movie script.
Or it’s both.
We report, you decide.
[SOUND OF DOOR CLOSING]
[MUFFLED VELOCIRAPTOR SOUNDS FROM THE HALLWAY]
John Kelly: Stephen Miller’s off his leash.
Omarosa: Well, I didn’t draw the short straw, I’m not going looking for that muzzle…
[MUFFLED VELOCIRAPTOR SOUNDS FADE]
John Kelly: Did you bring it?
Omarosa: Are you sure you really want it.
John Kelly: I am having a worse than average day here. The wig ate an extra pound of well-done steak last night. It is now Percolating. Through. His. System. Resulting in Paranoid. Fantasies. And. Demands. To. Speak. With. The King. Of. Micronesia.
Omarosa: You don’t have to make dramatic pauses like that. It makes my skin crawl.
John Kelly: THERE IS NO KING OF MICRONESIA.
Omarosa: Fair enough.
[SOUNDS OF HANDBAG BEING UNZIPPED]
[SOUNDS OF SQUISHBALL BEING SQUISHED]
John Kelly: This feels better.
Omarosa: What is going to happen to your career and clearance when the wig finds out you had me custom-order you a stress toy modeled after his second son’s head?
John Kelly: You have to admit, it’s an oddly shaped head. And squeezing. It. Is. Satisfying.
Omarosa: Here come the dramatic pauses again.
John Kelly: Do you have any weed on you?
Omarosa: Fuck off, white man. Ask Jeff Sessions.
John Kelly: I’ve always liked your sense of humor.
Omarosa: I always thought you didn’t have one.
[VELOCIRAPTOR SOUNDS GROW LOUDER IN THE HALLWAY]
John Kelly: Goddammit.
Omarosa: Who *did* draw the short straw today?
John Kelly: Jared.
Omarosa: Oh. That explains why nothing’s being done around here. Lazy white men. Oh, and don’t get me started on that reverse racism bullshit.
John Kelly: I know, I know. It’s like the king of Micronesia.
Omarosa: I like you better when you have a stress toy and are thinking clearly.
John Kelly: Am I thinking clearly? Are we dead already and is this hell?
Omarosa: Save your self-pity for candlelit dinners with Mad Dog. Woof.
John Kelly: Hey! Who told you about…
[VELOCIRAPTOR SOUNDS GROW LOUDER]
Omarosa: You know what? Fuck this shit straight to your imaginary hell.
[SOUND OF DOOR BEING OPENED]
[SOUND OF OMAROSA BEATING A LARGE REPTILE WITH HER HANDBAG]
[YELLING. COMMOTION]
[SOUNDS OF LARGE REPTILE BEING DRAGGED AWAY]
[DOOR CLOSES AGAIN]
Omarosa: There, that’s done now. Back on the leash.
John Kelly: Stephen suffers from crippling self-hatred. That’s his greatest problem and the reason why he works so tirelessly to bring down this republic and all that it stands for. That and the fact that he is actually a velociraptor, with no sympathy for the affairs of humans.
Omarosa: Do you think the wig notices?
John Kelly: I gave the wig an annotated copy of his security agenda this morning and he ate my post-it notes.
Omarosa: Oh.
John Kelly: We don’t deserve this, you and I. We are made for better things.
Omarosa: Uh, maybe I am.
John Kelly: I made eye contact with Melania today.
Omarosa: Oh my God, not this thirsty BS again. John. JOHN. SHE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU. LET IT GO.
John Kelly: It’s not her fault she married a wig.
Omarosa: She’s not Helen of Troy, and you are not Orlando Bloom, my dude.
John Kelly: I think Sean Spicer’s ghost is in the walls.
Omarosa: Sean’s not dead. Maybe dead inside. But those are two different states of being
John Kelly: Oh. Maybe I heard Nixon.
Omarosa: Maybe dementia is contagious? How much time are you spending with the wig per day, anyway?
John Kelly: I no longer perceive time. I am a character in Dante’s Inferno.
[OMAROSA ROLLS HER EYES SO HARD THAT YOU CAN HEAR IT ON THE RECORDING]
Omarosa: I’d say you’re a Dostoevsky character, but then we’d have to address the elephant and/or 400-pound hacker in the room.
John Kelly: Oh, the Russian collusion thing? Yeah, it totally happened.
Omarosa: Are you being sarcastic or…
John Kelly: Sarcastic? Do I look like some motherfucking millennial to you?
Omarosa: You do realize I’m going to write a tell-all book, John.
John Kelly: Go ahead. Screw it. No one will believe you.
[SOUNDS OF COMMOTION OUTSIDE]
[SOUNDS OF TRUMP YELLING]
Trump: WHY DON’T WE HAVE A SEAT ON THE UNITED FEDERATION OF PLANETS’ COUNCIL AND WHO THE FUCK DO I HAVE TO FIRE OVER THIS DIPLOMATIC FOX PAW?
Desperate-Sounding Aide: Sir, the United Federation of Planets is a fictional…
Another Desperate-Sounding Aide: Also, it’s a faux pas and not a…
Trump: MY NOSE FEELS SHINY. WHY DOES MY NOSE FEEL SHINY. WHERE IS IVANKA.
[SOUNDS OF TRUMP TRYING TO WIPE HIS FACE ON THE CARPET]
[SOUNDS OF AIDES TRYING TO CARRY TRUMP AWAY]
John Kelly: See? I told you. No one will believe you.
Omarosa: OK, a heavily edited tell-all book.
John Kelly: Will Mattis save everything in the end?
Omarosa: What do *you* think?
[SOUND OF JOHN KELLY SIGHING AND SQUEEZING A STRESS TOY SHAPED LIKE ERIC TRUMP’S HEAD]
Omarosa: *muttering to self* I am the goddamn Banksy of this administration.
[SOUNDS OF AIDES CONTINUING TRYING TO CARRY TRUMP AWAY]
Trump: WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME YOU CAN’T SCORE ANYTHING DECENT IN THE SWAMP. WHERE IS TONY MONTANA WHEN YOU FUCKING NEED HIM. MY NOSE FEELS SHINY AND SO DO MY EARLOBES. IT’S A DEEP SPACE CONSPIRACY. GET ALEX JONES ON THE PHONE.
Desperate-Sounding Aide: Sir, don’t you mean deep state and not deep…
Omarosa: Yeah. No one will believe me.
[END OF RECORDING]
Photo credit: Gage Skidmore/Creative Commons