In the Oval Office:

FLYNN: And so you see, Mr. President, there are suggestions that Kim Jong Un’s grip on—

TRUMP: Is that a tinfoil hat on your head?

FLYNN: Uh….

TRUMP: I like it. Get me one, all right? Put MAGA on it. Use a Sharpie. That’s an order. Now, you were telling me about Nordstroms.

FLYNN: Sir. I was actually telling you about the South China Sea, the lizard people infiltration, and—

TRUMP: Yada yada, I already comprehended all that. I comprehend well, better than almost anyone, okay? So, Nordstroms.

FLYNN: The store?

TRUMP: Store, pfft. It’s a bad store, the worst. Got that perfume counter and all that girlie stuff. Can’t stand it. Buncha losers. Some hot mannequins, though, amirite?

FLYNN: Such a great movie, Mannequin. Turns out, Andrew McCarthy is a Venusian cloud person. He once—

TRUMP: I coulda had Kim Catrall anytime I wanted. Anytime. She loved me. Begged me for it. The best, Kim. Anyway, Nordstroms. They dumped Vank’s brand. Very unfair. Let’s ban ‘em.

FLYNN: Bannon?

TRUMP, nodding: Ban ‘em.

FLYNN, over his shoulder: Steve, you around?

BANNON, off stage, mumbling through a mouthful of food: Summon me properly!

TRUMP: Is he eating all the snacks again? Every goddamned snack bowl in the White House is picked clean. I should issue an Executive Order about it. Nazis can’t eat out of snack bowls, period. Make it apply to the whole country. Think that’ll pass with the so-called judges? No one likes Nazis.

FLYNN: Except us.

TRUMP: Right. Except us. Love schnitzel, is why. Should put some of that in a snack bowl.

FLYNN: Sir, I should tell you that snack bowls are actually a Muslim plot to—

TRUMP: Yada.

BANNON, off stage: Still here! Summon me, but do it PROPERLY!

FLYNN: Oh, ferfucksake. Fine. ACHTUNG, HERR BANNON!

BANNON, entering, clicking heels, raising right arm.

TRUMP: Dammit, Mike, I didn’t hide the snack bowl yet!

FLYNN: But…you asked for him, sir.

TRUMP: What? No, I said ‘Ban ‘em.’

FLYNN: I thought you said—

BANNON: SIEG HEIL, MEIN FUHRER!

TRUMP: Steve, didn’t I say no Merkelese in the Oval?

BANNON: Ja, mein— Er, all right. Wait, are those M&Ms in that snack bowl?

TRUMP, sliding the bowl back: Presidential M&Ms, Steve. You eat them and I’ll have Mattis come in here and order you to do fifty push-ups. You think you got fifty push-ups in you, Steve?

FLYNN: Sir, you shouldn’t be eating M&Ms at all. The red ones were engineered to steal your testosterone. It’s part of a feminist time-traveler Martian plot.

TRUMP: …..

BANNON, eyeing M&MS: ….

FLYNN: You get it? A MARtian plot? Get it?

BANNON, drooling: Ja.

TRUMP: What’d I say about the Merkelese! What’d I just fucking say? And no, I don’t get it, Mike. It was a joke? Probably you told it badly. You’re the worst at jokes, Mike. The worst.

FLYNN: Well, it’s because the Mars company makes M&Ms and the Mars family is one of the founding members of the feminist Illuminati and—

TRUMP: Yada yada. Lost me already. You might as well be talkin’ Merkelese.

BANNON, lunges across room starts gobbling M&Ms, mumbles: Meine wahre Liebe.

TRUMP: Goddammit, Steve!

FLYNN: He’ll be Stephanie by the time he wakes up tomorrow, sir. I told you not to eat the red ones, Steve. You didn’t have much testosterone to begin with.

BANNON: Fick Dich, Herr Flynn!

TRUMP: Merkelese! Merkelese!

FLYNN, advancing on BANNON: You know what, Stephanie….

TRUMP: NORDSTROMS!

FLYNN and BANNON together: What?

TRUMP: God damn it! I wanted you to tell me how I could screw ‘em over. Nordstroms, the store with the hot Kim Catralls. Now one of you is shouting in Merkelese and the other one’s in a tinfoil hat and all my M&Ms are gone.

FLYNN: It’s just like a cabinet meeting!

BANNON: Ja! I mean, yeah!

TRUMP, sighing: Get out, both of you. I’ll just tweet about it.