NEW YORK, NY-- As a storm thundered outside, a raincoat-wearing Donald Trump burst into the disorganized New York office of the RNC and leaned over the desk of RNC Chair Reince Priebus and demanded, once and for all, that Reince hand over the premium leads-- the Glengarry leads.
Before a befuddled Reince could ask Trump why he wasn't at his scheduled speech to the New York Chamber of Commerce, Trump launched into a diatribe against the RNC Chair while pacing around the moody, cage-like office-- "I need those leads, Reince. I could put this whole thing away, close it up, and drive home in a brand new Cadillac if I just had the fuck-king leads." Mr. Priebus took a breath and massaged his temples before attempting to explain to Trump that he didn't need the leads and that the polls we're really starting to look up.
"Fuck the polls, Reince! The polls are shit," said an exasperated Trump-- "I need the leads. The premium leads. Just give me one. I could sweep the whole fucking rust belt with one of those leads."
Mr. Priebus sighed and subconsciously glanced at a locked safe nearly buried among a small tower of donor folders. Mr. Trump then walked over to the safe, tapping it repeatedly: "They're in there, aren't they? C'mon. Just give me one."
"You know I can't do that, Donald."
"You little shit!" exclaimed Mr. Trump, "You couldn't get a dogcatcher elected on cat island with the fucking shit leads I've got. I can make this happen for you and Paul and all the guys downtown but I need you to give me the motherfucking leads!"
With that a clearly frustrated Mr. Priebus stood up and pulled his raincoat from a mess of binders and papers, looking at Trump as he straightened the coat out: "This isn't my call, Donald. I can't give you the good leads. Not yet. This is me doing my job. Now why don't you go do yours?"
As Mr. Priebus wrapped his hand around his smooth leather suitcase to finally exit he was confronted, face-to-face, by Mr. Trump-- "You know what I'd call guys you when I was growin' up in Queens? ... JuicyFruit... cause I'd have to scrape you off my fucking shoe!"
Without flinching, Reince responded: "Do better, Donald. Then you will get the leads."
Mr. Priebus then sidestepped Mr. Trump to leave the office before turing back-- "Do better and I'll open that safe and you'll get the leads. The good leads. The Glengarry leads."
With a clattering slam Mr. Priebus was gone, leaving Donald alone with only the pounding rain and muffled cacophony of traffic outside. He shuffled over to the safe and tapped it gently before suddenly slamming his fist on top.
Then again, and again, and again until Mr. Trump was pounding on the top of the safe like a paramedic trying to jump-start a heart that had stopped beating long ago.
The desperate assault continued until Mr. Trump's hand slipped off the top of the safe, causing him to stumble forward before finally finding a free patch of carpet to collapse onto.
Donald then pushed his back against the safe, sitting on the ground and looking out at the cluttered RNC office. Quiet but not calm.
"What am I going to do?" he said aloud for perhaps only God to hear.
"What am I going to do?"
 |
| The unforgiving rain-soaked streets outside of the RNC office. |
