Dinner With Don and Mitt

DT: Keep shaking my hand and smile for the cameras, Mittens.
MR: Don't you ever get tired of the cameras, Don?
DT: What did you say?
MR: Forget it. May I let go of your hand now?
DT: Follow me. We're eating in the ballroom tonight. Melania is joining us.
MR: But I didn't bring Ann.
DT: I was joking, Mittens. No women. How is Ann, by the way. She still racing those horses?
MR: They're not thoroughbreds, Don. She rides them for therapy for her M.S.
DT: Mesotheliaoma? That class action lawsuit stuff I see advertised on CNN all day? You in on that deal? Tremendous.
MR: No. M.S. is... Forget it. Do you want to talk about your cabinet, Don?
DT: Want a cocktail first? The dirty martinis here are the best, Mitsubishi. The best.
MR: You know I don't drink.
DT: I'm just messin' with ya. You know I don't either. The one thing we have in common. How about a Coke Zero?
MR: No caffeine. I'd just like a glass of milk, please.
DT: Jesus Christ.
MR: Joseph Smith.
DT: Who?
MR: Forget it.
DT: Listen, Mittens: Are you gonna be loyal? You know I'm big on loyalty. I don't need any apology like all these media goofballs are squawking about. You look small enough as it is. But are you gonna stay in line? This is my presidency, you understand. You're scrapin' your knuckles on the back door here.
MR: (puts milk down and makes air quotes). Well, um, "Mr. Trump," of course I'll abide by your final decisions, as long as I'm permitted to provide input to you in advance. For instance, why did you tweet lies yesterday about millions of illegal votes? If I don't mention my thoughts to you about that kind of stuff, my conscience will slowly die.
DT: Science has nothing to do with Secretary of State.
MR: I said "conscience."
DT: Conscience? You gotta be kidding me! Ya see? This is why you lost, Mittens. No one cares about that stuff. They care about winning. They don't care about conscience and contemplation. That's all gone. Misdirection is all that matters.
MR: Misdirection?
DT: Don't you watch football?
MR: Not really.
DT: Ok. Let's see...Y'know when you get in a fight with your wife, and you don't have a defense, so you try to change the subject? The old switcheroo?
MR: Ann and I have never gotten into a fight.
DT: Of course not. Anyway, back to the false tweets. It's all of a piece, Mitt. The media are morons. They HAVE to cover anything crazy you say - especially now that I'm President-Elect. Anything. If one network doesn't cover it, they lose viewers to the others. So they all have to repeat it. It's like "Simon Says."
MR: Yes, but what you're saying is easily understood as false.
DT: Who cares?! You still don't get it. I lied for 18 many months. Did you see that PolitiFact comparison between me and Hilz? Not even close. And no one cares! Jobs, Mitzi. Jobs. Four states. I actually don't even care that much about this Secretary of State stuff, but some traditions are harder to overturn.
MR: I'm, I'm speechless, Mr. President-Elect.
DT: What's "speechless?" Ha! I'm just kidding, Mittens. Lighten up. Bend your needs more. Swing your arms a bit when you walk. Like in that Seinfeld episode. Y'know, you're stiffer than Bubba at a burlesque show.
MR: Bubba?
DT: All right, Mitt. I'm gonna make a comMITTment here. See what I did there? Good brain. Great wit... I'm going to make a commitment to you that I will decide about this soon. I'm taking your word that you will be loyal to me. Besides, you know the consequences. Talk to Chris.
MR: Rudy was loyal. Doesn't seem to be helping him too much.
DT: Leave Rudy alone. He doesn't have the hair you and I do. Ever consider that? Dealing with looking at that in the mirror every day?
MR: Ok, Don. I understand. One last question.
DT: No more questions. No more business. Time for the main course. The dancers. Here they come. It's a private room, Mitt. And don't forget, we're "stars."