I'm trying to do final editing on my novel, Baby Doe, already past due and post mature. But writing first drafts is so much more fun. Here you go.
BACKSTORY. Suppose there’s this kid in NY whose father’s a real louse—drives the kid’s older brother to drink. The kid isn’t too smart, but he absorbs that his father’s scrabbled millions were obtained by lying and cheating: using cheap building materials, keeping Blacks out of his rentals, not paying his bills, and avoiding taxes by whatever means possible.
The kid grows up, cheating his way into college and out of the army. Loses a bunch of money but had someone write a book about how great he is as a business man. He gets on TV, by playing himself. Soon poor folks love how he sticks it to the stuck up. When the TV show tanks, the kid realizes he’s losing serious bucks. He gets scared.
ACT I. Somehow he links up with a great looking woman, of course called Hope, and she tells him what to do, like use his losses to avoid paying income taxes, use his remaining TV fame to borrow a lot of money, and then sell his name, (that’s a great double entendre from a card game of the elites) to brand hotels, casinos, and golf courses, where he makes money by being seen with the rich and famous who sort of buy into his act (“If he’s famous like us, what could be wrong with the guy?”). When his scams head south, the kid makes up stories, telling his old fans they should worry about the U.S. being in the dumpster because of those dark-skinned people killing each other in ghettos after sneaking into the country and stealing jobs and welfare benefits from real Americans with guns. And they won't stay put; they're already in the streets, and soon they'll be looking for white housewives in the 'burbs who the kid needs to protect. However, the kid’s fans also like that the kid knows what women are for and treats them accordingly, all the while hanging out with really hot looking babes.
ACT II. The kid decides to run for president of the whole damn country. A stretch, I know. Though what a hoot. Free publicity. Think Frank Underwood in House of Cards. But dumb. No way, Jose. Smart folks laugh. Seriously, the next president is going to be a woman, someone smart who can make lunch out of this kid. But the kid’s training at his father’s knee makes him cagey enough to suck in some others. How?? Think. Maybe he gets the the rich folks by just promising anything they want. The Jews. Hell, his daughter even married one, a rich guy, but still. Them, they can have their Israel, especially if they go there (and stay). Even the Evangelicals he promises can all say Merry Christmas again, without the fucking liberals looking down their noses at us, the real people. Well the kid’s got to get elected, somehow. He does. (I know, this sounds wacko). And after that then something even more huge has to happen.
ACT III. A plague!! Made in China, a virus all over the place just like those dinky plastic thingees spilling out of cereal boxes. Nothing too serious at first, but enough for the kid, now our entertainer in chief. But then people say he screws it up. People die. Lots and lots of people. Is the kid doomed? Sorry, no, the kid can really play with both hands. He blames the Chinese, and those egghead science people always talking in circles. He even blames some evil plot a la Mission Impossible, some invisible Spectre run by, I got it, a Woman! Who’s Black! She gets ahold of a nice old guy to run against our kid. The old guy’s, bound to die soon, and then this Black lady, head of Spectre who's also the head of QAnon, can be president!!
How to run the climax? I’m thinking here people... I have it! The kid gets the virus! Himself. And his fine lady. How? From HOPE! Am I a writer or what?! So the ending? Well maybe the kid brags that A) the virus is no worse than a cold, totally overblown by the fake news just to get him out of office, and (not or) B) that the kid himself is so tough that the nasty malignant virus can’t hurt him after he spends weeks on a ventilator. Does the kid triumph, or die like Butch and Sundance? ...So, YES! The kid leaps out of bed, pulls out his tubes, takes off his hair, his shirt, his jowls, his adipose-like padding, his MASK. Yup. He’s PUTIN! Sharp fade to black.
...Or maybe just a quieter ending like, the old guy gets elected and somehow makes america great again.
...Naw, I’m just storyboarding. Can’t make stuff like this up. Got to stop inhaling when I write. Fiction has to be somewhat believable.
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