Donald Trump Pitches 'Vanity Fair' Exposé About His Enormous Fingers
Just look at them beauties.
[SCENE: This coming Friday morning. Vogue's Anna Wintour and Vanity Fair's Graydon Carter arrive at Trump Tower for a super secret meeting about we don't know what. Anna Wintour already met with Donald Trump after the election, but she kind of hates his guts. Oh well, she's a mover and shaker and maybe wants to do a photo-shoot of Melania. Graydon Carter has been going after Trump since the Prehistoric Era and is credited, during his days at Spy magazine, with coining Trump's best known nickname, "short-fingered vulgarian." Trump HATES Graydon Carter, who wrote a HILARIOUS editor's letter about Trump the month before the short-fingered vulgarian accidentally won, in a total fluke. We don't know why Carter is meeting with Trump, at all. Maybe Anna Wintour is just there as his bodyguard.
Anyway, Trump is just sitting there in his office all awkward, wearing pants that don't fit and other clothes that don't fit, eating a Trump Taco Bowl with a gold-plated plastic spork. He rises from his desk to greet his new guests, salsa dribbling down his chin and on to his napkin, which is tucked in the neck of his shirt, like a grown-up.]
TRUMP: Graydon. Graydon. My friend! Sit down!
TRUMP: Anna Wintour! Also my old friend, who I have met before!
WINTOUR: Right. I am literally just here as Graydon's bodyguard.
TRUMP: Graydon. Graydon. You've been very unkind to Trump! But I want to put that behind us, and make a YOOGE deal with you, the best deal, you won't say no, because nobody says no to Trump.
[Graydon Carter looks around the room then back at Trump. And then down at Trump's hands. Awwwww, they're still so cute!]
TRUMP: Graydon, your sad magazine is failing!
CARTER: Our subscriptions increased literally one-hundred-fold the day after you tweeted about our "poor numbers." And now we use your tweets as marketing slogans.
[Trump drops his phone three times while furiously tweeting to take credit for saving the failing Vanity Fair.]
TRUMP: Graydon, come closer, I want to show you something!
[Graydon Carter hesitates and looks to Anna Wintour for reassurance.]
WINTOUR: You don't have a pussy, Graydon, it should be OK.
TRUMP: Graydon, get on your knees!
CARTER: ... I ... Is he? ...
TRUMP: On your knees! [Carter reluctantly does as the orange child king has requested.] Now, do you see the beautiful, luxurious, tremendous items displayed on my hips, at your eye level? Also at your eye level is Donald Trump's penis, which I assure you, I've never had any complaints, it's much larger than Jeb's or Little Marco's or Hillary Clinton's ...
CARTER: Hillary's is pretty big ...
TRUMP: Folded in front of my tremendous penis, you will observe the largest hands you have ever seen! Big league! Melania, bring my measuring tape!
MELANIA: Vee do not have measuring tape in Trump Tower, Kellyanne Conway take it away last time you run around upset and going like "WAVE WAVE FLAP FLAP, MY HANDS, ZEY ARE YOOGE!"
TRUMP: Graydon Carter, pay no attention to that nasty woman, I think we can all agree my hands are delicious and elegant and impressively large, and Vanity Fair should write a cover story about these, my hands. A human interest piece!
CARTER: They are larger than I thought. But they are not orange, and you are orange. They're kind of a dead Siberian gray if you ask me ...
[Vladimir Putin jumps out of the back of Trump's ill-fitting slacks, where he has been this whole time, making like his large Russian hands are actually Donald Trump's tiny American hands.]
VLADIMIR PUTIN: Oh, HA HA! Hi, It is I, Vladimir Putin, just standing behind Donald Trump, who I've NEVER MET, but who has for some reason offered Vladimir special White House job of "hand model" and also "shadow president!" I, eh, how you say, live inside Donald Trump's pants now and make wild hand gestures for him, and when Vladimir gets bored, I play with traditional American nuclear football!
TRUMP: Vladimir. You said that was going to be a SECRET?
PUTIN: Ohhhh! How you say in American? Ah, DOY DOY DOY DOY DOY! Silly Vladimir! I go back in Donald's pants now.
[Vladimir Putin goes back to where he lives now, inside Donald Trump's pants.]
TRUMP: Graydon Carter. You'll do the story. It'll be the best story, with the best words, because I will write it, with the words from my good brain!
[Trump turns to Anna Wintour, who appears to be fashionably annoyed.]
TRUMP: Anna Wintour, you will fire those highly over-rated "journalism" women at Teen Vogue? They have been very unfair to me, quoting me and saying I said things I clearly said.
WINTOUR: Not a chance, fatso. We done? Mama gots a big fancy New York party to go to, and guess who ain't invited?
TRUMP: C'mere, Anna. ANNA! One hug for your old friend Trump!
WINTOUR: Not falling for it.
TRUMP: Anna! Graydon!
WINTOUR: Fuck off.
[As Donald Trump watches the two figureheads of New York society leave, a Cheeto-flavored tear appears in the corner of his eye, and as it falls, it leaves a weird flesh-colored gap on his spray-tanned cheek. As Anna Wintour and Graydon Carter get on the gold-plated elevator, Trump hears Carter say, "TOLD YOU THEY WERE TINY," to which Wintour replies, "SHIT, GURL, O-M-G!" Anna Wintour ALWAYS says that. Trump, alone once again, allows himself a little cry as he realizes that, no matter what he ever does, even getting elected president, he will never receive respect, acceptance or love from truly classy people. Ever.]
PUTIN [from inside Trump's pants]: Stop crying, American pussy! Vladimir is still here.
[Trump stops crying, because Vladimir is still there.]