King Donald
Embattled Ruler of a Western Land

The Royal Cap
The King’s Advisor

The Royal Wig
Cachier-de-Honte, Gentleman of the Bedchamber

The Moustache of Lord Bolton
Base-Born Lip Broome that Protects the Realm, Special Advisor to The King

Lord Bidon
Duke of Trans Amia, Designated Heir to the Moorish King, now Deposed

The Dowager Elspeth
Beldam Noble of Massachusetts, Purported Autochthon and Economic Illiterate

The Crier
Graduate of the Columbia School of Journalism


Act CXXIV. Scene I.


A foul woe comes to our fair Washington
Sarah is out, plump Sarah is leaving
King Donald sends birdsong of condolence


Lord Bidon
Sarah of Sanders? Gone? Impossible.

The Dowager Elspeth
Do thee doubt thine own ears or do you doubt
Yon stout and simple crier of the news?

Lord Bidon
You do wound me crone, you know I traffick
……….not in fake crier.

The Dowager Elspeth
Then quiet thy tongue and prick up thy ears
For there is opportunity for those
Who despise the king and seek his bald head
To mount on the city gates till it rot

Lord Bidon
Let not treason darken thy withered lips
The king’s supporters are all about us
Listening at every keyhole and crack
They are everywhere, I say and many

The Dowager Elspeth
As are his enemies numerous
A score and five they are, poised to debate
……….and depose the king.

ELSPETH spits on the ground

Lord Bidon
Away crone, we must away, midnight comes
The witching hour is where conspiracies
Such as ours take root to bloom in the morn

The Dowager Elspeth
Let us bury ours in richest night soil
And poison what well of kindness is left
For our white-eyed buffoon King to drink from




Act CXXIV. Scene II.



THE ROYAL CAP and HIS ROYAL WIG sit upon the King’s escritoire

The Royal Cap
……….Pie, beloved Pie,
I never got to plunder thy gentle
Rolling meat hills or get a bill-job from
Thy whore mouth or gaze in thy lazy eye

The Royal Wig
Are thee drunk or hast thou again embraced
Morpheus–The King of Dreams–like a bee
……….to junkie nectar?
Thou hast ever scorned the woman zaftig,
The woman MILF’d, or butter’d of face
And Sarah is all three, engulfed in tights
Like a sausage left in the sun to bloat
Under attentions of a million flies

The Royal Cap
She has served Donald well, faithful against
The faithless, confronting newe media
……….And olde print alike
I desire her body ’cause I admire
Her mind, that organ so thirsty to drink
The loving abuse of our shared master

The Royal Wig
I had thought that no man was your master

The Royal Cap
Twist not my words, my good sir, lest you find
Your gold hairs corn-rowed by the next bright morn
Permed in the hot rays of the sun at noon
And afrotated by inky nightfall
Donald and I are master and servant
……….when it pleases me
Servant and master when it does serve me
……….for him to think it
Ever am I perched on his pate and mind
Rider to his mount, reins ever in hand

The Royal Wig
Hark, Hat! Hither comes thy horse and carriage
And another that rides and is ridden


The Moustache of Lord Bolton
We must kill them all, my King, all of them
We must rend and tear, beat back the Moslems
And save the Kingdom of the Useful Jews
Iran must wane, the Oil Straits must flow free
War has always been the health of the state
and I want to get erect once again

King Donald
All the concerns of Mullahs and Tankers
Pale before the departure of my Pie
Who shall speak for me? You? The Hat? The Hair?
I cannot face criers and their fake news
Pie, I scream at night, Pie, I cry by day
Soft Sweet Sarah with her bescarred belly

The Moustache of Lord Bolton
The election is hard upon us, King
None of your wan enemies can withstand
They are lily-livered and pale-bellied
And quail before the slightest sword rattle
Come, my King, I say we should cry havoc
And so let slip the mustaches of war!

The Royal Wig
Begone foul face moss, back to thy chambers
Where dwell victim screams and horrors undimm’d

The Royal Cap
Where chains do clank and hungry fetters gape
Back, silver-grey war ghoul, back to your lair

THE MOUSTACHE exits crying

King Donald
Oh, who will replace my most precious Pie
Where can I find another plum dessert
……….that can lie and smile?

THUNDER crashes in the distance