Hillary: boy this restaurant is fancy schmancy, you know what, and to tell the truth, it doesn't do anything for me, give me a greasy spoon or a mom and pop on main street in Anytown America. Am I right? Yeah! Maybe even a Pop and Mom. See, I'm funny. So congratulations on winning the contest, do a you know you beat out over a billion people to have dinner with me!
Greg: wow... a billion people?
Hillary: a billion people.
Greg: Really, a billion people?
Hillary: I have international appeal!
Greg: Evidently.
Hillary: Let's sit. What's your name son?
Greg: Greg.
Hillary: Great! So tell us a little about yourself?
Greg: yeah, well, originally I'm from Minneapolis, well actually a suburb of Minneapolis, see my parents moved from Buffalo when we were young...
ACTION: Hillary is on her phone
Greg: There's 7 in our family toe...tal.... are you even listening?
Hillary: suuuuure.... Buffalo... me smoke 'm big peace pipe....
Greg: you know that's rude. It's treating me like trash
ACTION: Hillary giddily texts and swipes away on phone when something occurs to her and she slowly looks up horrified.
Hillary: Do the emails from your trash box delete automatically? I mean if they're moved back to the inbox but then not favorited, i mean before hiding them in the do not read folder... oh god....
ACTION: Hillary stomps on phone/drops it in water and hands phone carcuss/ glass of water to the waiter.
Hillary: Dispose of this. Make it look like an accident. And for god sake, make sure the dumpster locks.
ACTION: waiter walks away and there's a tense moment.
Greg: I'm pretty sure they have a back-up server.
Hillary: waaaait?!?!
ACTION: another waiter comes out.
Hillary: oh
Waiter: Can I take your drink orders?
Hillary: I'll get a Shirley Temple.
ACTION: Hillary winks a lot, the waiter doesn't really get it.
Greg: um, just a coke.... the thing is, Hillary, I mean Mrs. Clinton, or ah Madam Secretary, what do I call you?
Hillary: I've been called worse, ha!
Greg: the thing is my friends sort of set me up, er signed me up for this. I mean you're nice, i like you and all, it's just I'm a Bernie Supporter.
Hillary: ... well jeez apparently you don't like me that much.
Greg: no, it's just, the thing is, like this restaurant, okay, like the guys in the kitchen are working really hard, they're busting their asses so the people who take orders can look good. The people up front get the recognition. They get the tip. They get all the glory. But they're just the face of it. Bernie Sanders is like the cook, sweating his balls off in the kitchen, making our food, giving us something proper to digest. And you're like the waiter, or waitress, or whatever you call it.
Hillary: server.
Greg: Exactly, you're a server; to the banks, to Wall Street, to the Military-Industrial Complex, the Prison-Industrial Complex, every complex you can think of!
Hillary: Look, we're here to have fun, so loosen up. Congratulations!
Greg: And why even have an election if it's gonna be decided by super-delegates?
Hillary: Super-delegate, that's funny (does superhero theme sing via mouth trumpet) I'm here to save the day. Ha ha, well now that's a hoot.
Greg: I mean seriously don't you think the super-delegate thing has run it's course and needs to go?
Hillary: (looks around) sure. You got a good head on your shoulders, have ya thought of college, in space?
Greg: I mean, like in Wyoming, how the hell did Bernie Sanders beat you by 12 points and only get 7 delegates out of the 14 possible delegates?! What's the point of even having an election?! That's like Russia.
Hillary: it's not like Russia.
Greg: it looks a lot like Russia.
Hillary: (game show buzzer noise) nope, sorry, try again!
Greg: well it's like China then.
Hillary: ... Look pal...let's try to have dinner... okay bub? And let's not talk about all this negative stuff. Whew, Phew, so negative... you! Take a chill pill Mac. Whew. So negative. A nice dinner. None of this talk about
Benghazi. Or massive voter fraud. Or deleting Classified e-mails. Or the NSA monitoring our phone calls, emails and everything else Or using the Clinton Foundation as a cover for tax evasion, hiring cronies, taking bribes from foreign countries. Or drafting trade deals that have effectively sold this country to the Chinese. Or arming the Muslim Brotherhood and funding the Muszadeen, which became Alciada then ISIS, to fight the Soviets in the 80's. While we're at it least not mention Whitewater, Vince Foster, commodity deals. The IRS targeting enemies, Libya, Iraq, Iran. DOJ spying on the press. SOLYNDRA! Threats to all of Bill’s former mistresses. Or that time I stole the White House silverware when Bill left office. Or Secret Drone Rapes in Nicagra... whew I need a drink after that one!
Greg: Wait, what was that last one?
Hillary: (collects herself after a moment of panic) you really don't think I'm that stupid, do you Jeffrey?
Greg: The name's... (smugly) What can we talk about then?
ACTION: Hillary huddles with suits or touches her earpiece.
Hillary: sports. We can talk about sports... if you like...
Greg: ...Did you see the Patriots game last night?
Hillary: Let's just order food.
ACTION: Both hide faces in menus.
Greg: try the crow.
Hillary: I hear the Chef is very good here. He'll take care of you, he works for the CIA...
Greg: (gulp) the CIA?
Hillary: Nyes, the Culinary Institute of American. (puts down menu) well I know what I want. Garsong?
ACTION: waiter enters with drinks ready to take orders.
Hillary: yes mooseuer I will get the fried balony sandwich, I believe they call it a Trump steak here. Ha Ha Ha!
Waiter: we don't, I don't know what that is, we don't serve that here Secretary Clinton, Mrs.-
Hillary: I know that! I didn't think you served - I was making a joke - oh nevermind...
Waiter: I'm sorry, I didn't know, if that was a joke....
Hillary: Just give me the house meatloaf.
Greg: I'll have the duck. Thank you.
ACTION: waiter takes menus and is away.
Hillary: duck, eh? That reminds me of this one time I flew into a war zone under heavy fire and we had to duck coming off the plane.
Greg: Yeah, that never happened.
Hillary: heh heh. It could have.
Greg: It didn't. You come to a nice restaurant and you order the meatloaf?
Hillary: well, little Richard, if you really must know, it reminds me of a meal my grandmama used to make when we were kids... kinda of salty... really salty...
Greg: kind of like spam.
ACTION: Hillary in mid drink spits it all over Greg.
Hillary: the spam folder!!! What if you archive your spam folder in the favorites under junk in the inbox on outlook!?!?!? Oh no!!!
Greg: what?
Hillary: Stewart I have to go to the little girls room to find out if they have one for transgendered people....
ACTION: with a shit-eating grin, Hillary fast slow walks away keeping her eyes on Greg who stares straight ahead drenched. A long beat and he turns to the waiter.
Greg: she's not coming back, is she?
Waiter: she does this every time...
ACTION: Greg turns to audience/camera
Greg: you know, when I accepted a dinner invitation from Hillary Rodham Clinton I never knew I would be on the menu...
ACTION: the Chef comes out and sticks Greg in the neck with something concealed in his paw. Greg collapses on the table as the Chef snickers off.
FIN.
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