11:30 PM
“And how is the primary looking? It’s about time for you to get the big chair, right?” Donald’s face is slack after his second treble brandy. As he puffed on one of Bill’s Cohibas he was more relaxed than he had been in some time. Joining the Clintons for dinner, getting out of character for a little while, it was exactly what he needed. “I worry for you, Hil, I really do. The socialist in the bad suits, he’s going to snipe you on the left.”
“I wouldn’t talk too much about Senator Sanders right now,” Bill’s voice, so iconic that his wife has started to think of Phil Hartman when he speaks, breaks through the haze of the night. “I think that’s actually a prescription from Hillary’s cardiologist.”
“Come on, Bill. This woman will outlive us all!” Donald raises his glass, and after a beat of confusion so do the rest of the dwindling party, drinking to their host’s health.
1:00 AM
“But how would it even work, Donald. You can’t possibly throw together a primary campaign from scratch.” The rest of the revelers gone, Donald, HIllary, Bill, and Melania sit around the Clinton’s patio table.
“Don’t tell him that he can’t do something,” Melania, so quiet around the larger party is more animated, more herself, in these cozy confines. “It only fires him up to do the thing more.”
“It’s really nothing. I’ll throw myself into the primaries and give the urban democrats a real scare. They’ll run to you as the establishment candidate if it looks like a Trump White House is even a possibility and you can make Senator Sanders secretary of education. I get publicity, you get the Oval Office and he gets to reform education. It’s a win-win-win.”
“Last I checked,” Bill, the night owl, is awake and alert. He’s glad to have company at this hour. “You were a democrat, my friend. How can you possibly make yourself look like a serious threat to Jeb Bush?”
“First off, I’m an independant. And secondly, people have a very short memory. If I say I’m a conservative, if I fire off their talking points, I can at least shake things up enough to ensure Hillary the nomination. After all, the last thing I want is to actually be nominated. I don’t want to have to stand in front of the world and debate Hillary on the issues. I could only end up looking like an ass.”
“But what if you do get nominated Donald? You don’t actually want to be president.” Hillary can’t believe this idea seems to be moving from a thought experiment to a plan.
“Don’t worry about that, Hil. If I get nominated, I’ll just go full-bore heel. I learned that from my days working with professional wrestling.”
Bill laughs uproariously, remembering his friend “body-slamming” Vince McMahon. “And if that doesn't’ work?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll tell my supporters to vote on the wrong day.”
