Sequel to James Bond SPECTRE is TRUMP - 007 Man With the Golden Hair

Haha I just saw Gates McFadden @gates_mcfadden on Twitter say that she didn't want to see Trump as a Presidential candidate, that she preferred Trump was a Bond Villain. That had me thinking. HEY, gang. Lets write the manuscript of the next James Bond adventure, the sequel to SPECTRE. Its of course TRUMP. Come on, he is not a Presidential Candidate, he is clearly a Bond Villain. He even lives in a golden tower he named after himself and flies in a giant plane, that no doubt will break apart in an emergency into a tiny escape plane... Trump is as Bondian a master villain's name as Goldfinger and Dr No. And what about Chris Christie? Like Oddjob, TeeHee and Nicknack, Chrischristie is OBVIOUSLY the name of a Bond villain's top henchman. Who only stares menacingly at everybody while standing just behind the boss. So join me, lets write the story of 007 Man With the Golden Hair.

007 Man With the Golden Hair
(script original collaboration by Tomi T Ahonen/HatRat, Gates McFadden, cornelius, remaerdyaD, catriona, Jefff, Kevin Ahoy (and more names likely to be added soon as script is developed onwards))

Opening scene

The remnants of SPECTRE’s leaders had collected in New York to form a new international crime and terror syndicate which they had named the Gang Of Power (GOP). They wore its new identity ring featuring the outline of an elephant. At their inaugral meeting the big crime bosses from around the globe collected together including: Vladimir Putin, Kim Jong-Un, Bashar Al-Assad, Mitt Romney, John Boehner, Harry Reid, Tony Blair, Michael Bloomberg and Sarah Palin. But at the end of the secret meeting a big explosion rocked the room killing dozens of junior leaders and injuring several of the biggest bosses.

Shortly thereafter, in the USA, a strange series of political announcements were made in short order. John Boehner suddenly stepped down as Speaker of the House and instantly retiring. Harry Reid was seen with an eye patch, and he declared he would not be seek re-election to the Senate. Mitt Romney abruptly announced he would not run once again for President after all. Sarah Palin announced she was still Sarah Palin. The GOP had clearly come under the control of a hidden nefarious power.

Newspaper headlines are seen with the above events, and slowly the camera angle pulls back, to reveal the power who has taken the most evil organization in the world and made that tremble in fear. A man is seen reading those headlines, he is seen only from behind. He is stroking a golden-haired badger while reading the newpapers. As the camera pulls further back his head is finally revealed from behind. He has golden hair... the scene fades into golden color and the music starts...

(opening credits: 007 Man with the Golden Hair - sung by Rihanna. The credits are laid over a scene featuring supermodels from Slovenia and Czech Republic dressed in skimpy outfits dancing seductively. Miss Colombia makes a brief cameo but then her role is replaced by Miss Philippines. MIss South Carolina also appears but faces the wrong way to the camera)


He's more elegant, than Fred Astair / He's more brave than Red Adair / He's far smarter than Tony Blair / He's the man, with the Golden Hair /
..the man, with the Golden Hair /
He builds his towers on distant lands / His golf courses of greens and sands / Vodkas suits steaks bear his brands / its the big man with the tiny hands /
..big man, with the tiny hands
Too much power we cannot bear / That Trump of terror inside his lair / Can anyone save us, does anyone care / its the monster and his Golden Hair /
..the monster, and his Golden Hair

Scene 2 - London, blackjack table at a Trump casino.

James Bond looked at his cards. 18. The dealer has a 9 exposed. 007 took a sip of his vodka martini. Whatever happened to that piss named Trump Vodka? Success Distilled? More like a sewer distilled. Good riddance, he thought. He looked at his cards again, and then at the dealer. The bet was 27 thousand pounds. This was money Bond had intended to spend on fixing the transmission on the damned Aston Martin. But he felt confident. “Hit me”.

It was a 3. Bond turned to glance at the gorgeous blonde sitting by the bar who was reading Spy Magazine. She had seen his play and gave Bond a wink. As the dealer started to pay off the win, an usher rushed to Bond saying there was an urgent message to him at the front desk. The gorgeous blonde would have to wait, 007 got up, left a tip to the card dealer and asked the usher to cash out his chips.


Scene 3 - London MI6 HQ Building

Seventeen minutes later Commander Bond was standing at attention in the office of his new boss, M, not to be confused with the previous boss, M who died on duty, nor to be confused with the previous boss, M, who died before the movie series was completed. At the office were two older well-dressed men who were not introduced to Bond.

- Do you know what this is, Bond?

- Well, Sir, it looks like a flock of hair.

- Yes, obviously but can you tell anything about it?

Bond smelled the flock of hair, then stretched it a little in his hands and answered

- It looks like old, fragile hair that has been colored many times always in that, rather odious color if I may say, Sir. The hair has also been repeatedly sprayed and folded. Whoever did that to the hair has totally destroyed it. It doesn’t make sense as woman’s hair to be folded this way, I would guess this is a balding man’s hair which he has been combing over and folding to cover his rather large bald spot, if I was asked to guess, Sir. The hairspray is probably CHI, by the smell, I would say Helmet Hair. Sir.

M gave Bond an angry look and asked, "Is there anything you don’t know, Bond?"

007 answered, "I don’t know, Sir, I haven’t found such a subject yet but I am sure such subjects must exist. Now what is this about, may I ask, Sir?"

- Yes, these two men here, are Mr Severin from the American Hairdresser Association’s special investigative squad, and Mr Goodwin of the FBI. They have come to ask for Her Majesty’s Government’s assistance with a rather tricky matter that also relates to your past activities. They had been investigating the big explosion in New York last week, at the big crime boss meeting.

M passed photographs to Bond

- Do you recognize these pictures?

Bond immediately identified several notorious SPECTRE leaders and felt his blood boil.

- They are with SPECTRE, Sir.

- No, Bond. They were with SPECTRE. These gentlemen have told me that they have created an even more evil splinter group called the GOP which intends to hijack the total US government. They had already taken over the Senate and the House and had plans to take over the Presidency. We also believe that the Supreme Court had been infiltrated by the GOP. But their plans were disrupted at the last moment by that big explosion and what was left behind, apparently as some wicked calling card, was that golden lock of hair. What we need is for you to go to New York and find who belongs to that hair and stop him.


Scene 4 - New York, JFK Airport

Bond was past security and walked rapidly towards the exits and the taxis. The time on his Omega Seamaster was 11:47. He glanced out of the window and spotted a gleaming jet parked nearest to the terminal with giant TRUMP letters on its side. Bond didn’t recognize the airline, but thought he should look it up when he was next online. He turned to get through the doorway when a pair of men rushed towards him as if hurrying to get past him. Bond stepped slightly to the side and said, "Please". The first man looked straight into Bond’s eyes and said "You’re the world's biggest loser." Then he turned behind him and said to the heavy-set man carrying two large suitcases, "Chrischristie, don't just stand there like a moron! Go get the car."

Bond observed that this fat man called Chrischristie had a bulge under the left shoulder of his poorly-fitted suit. Bond guessed it was probably one of those lousy overpriced Trump suits made of inferior materials in China, which fell apart at the seams in three months like an Ikea cabinet. Bond's killer instincts could detect the weapon that created that bulge, a Glock 9mm. 007 subconsciously noted that this Chrischristie was already sweating, he could not be in good shape, and thus was not particularly deadly in hand-to-hand combat if it were to come to that on some godforsaken jam-packed bridge in Jersey. Bond studied the boss. The rude man with the golden hair had particularly small hands with stubby fingers. A short-fingered vulgarian, Bond thought to himself.

As 007 waited for his taxi, he noticed that Chrischristie and the golden haired rude man drove off in a giant Rolls Royce in gold color, with a licence plate TRUMP 1. Bond crossed the item off his mental to-do list. Clearly there was no commercial airline by the name of Trump Airlines or Trump Shuttle. Apparently the American translation of rude was 'trump'. Bond recollected vaguely his University Advanced German classes, that should be Drumpf in the original.

Now 007’s instincts had been aroused. He told the taxi driver to follow the golden Trump 1. It drove downtown to a giant golden skyscraper. Bond kept his normal poker face but smiled inside, gosh all the megalomaniacs put their names on everything. Exactly like Hugo Drax, Max Zorin, Elliott Carver. So predictable. So this ridiculous gold-color tower was named Trump Tower in massive lettering. Well, at least it didn't have the vulgarian's ugly face and hairdo pictured on the side of the building like Carver had in Vietnam. Bond was certain this man had some role to play in the mystery of the GOP and its evil take-over by the Golden Comb-Over.

Bond paid the Muslim taxi driver and gave him a 5 dollar tip. The driver thanked, and then said, "Be careful Sir, that house is haunted. Its a bad place for Muslims or Mexicans or Catholics", as he drove away. 007 was puzzled by the comment, and stepped out onto the curb. As he walked towards the entrance to the giant gold-colored scyscraper, 007 witnessed one of the building's securty guards manhandle a war veteran trying to sell New York's Grapevine newspaper. Bond made a mental record of the security guard's face, in case they met, he would return that pain tenfold, for fellow veterans of military service; brothers in arms as NATO allies. Bond headed into the lobby of Trump Tower.


Scene 5 - Inside the Villain's Lair - Trump Tower Lobby

Inside he saw a handicapped journalist, a Hispanic journalist and what could only be called, for lack of a better term, perhaps a MegynKelly. The professional journalists were all being violently shoved down the escallator and beaten by Trump Tower security guards.

On the massive walls of the main lobby ot Trump Tower, 007 noticed giant hanging paintings of Mussolini, Hitler, Franco, Pol Pot, Stalin, Idi Amin, Nixon, Bill Cosby and Dick Cheney. A security guard was approaching him with the look of being very serious. Bond decided to play the role of the confused British tourist.

- What do you want?

- Oh, sorry, I am looking for the Hilton Hotel.

- Oh, you’re British?

- Yes

- He doesn’t like the British. Their Parliament blocked his entry to the UK. He tells us London is a puny little one-horse town anyway that goes to sleep at eleven in the evening. So we don't care about you and you're not welcome here. This is not the Hilton Hotel, get out.

- Sorry, but I am lost, can you tell me which way it is?

-  Do I look like a tourist guide? Buy a map. Now, out!

Bond observed in the background that Chrischristie and the golden haired guy with the small hands had entered the lobby, apparently by some escallator from perhaps a garage underneath the building. Bond moved very slowly towards the door. The security guard shoved him

- Move along, Limey!

007 quickly crouched as if to tie his shoe lace just as the security guard was trying to shove him again, and the guard tripped over Bond and fell. This gave 007 enough time to observe the strange rude pair of men. He strained to hear what the boss, no doubt called Trump was saying

...is low energy! Cruz is a liar. Rubio has huge ears. Tell them that.


As the security guard was getting back on his feet and the rude boss with small hands and Chrischristie disappeared in the elevator, a stunning slim blonde in impeccable dress appeared in the doorstep. She immediately fell in love with Bond. Bond realized this and told her in an absolutely natural tone as if they knew each other:

- There you are. I've been looking for you.

The blonde played along amused by the whole scene. She said to Bond:

- I've got delayed, dear.

As the bombshell blonde offered her arm to Bond, they started to walk to the VIP elevators. The security guard apologized and let them pass.


Scene 6 - Trump Elevator

As the elevator door closed, 007 smiles, offered out his hand for a formal handshake greeting and said

 - Thank you, miss. The staff here seem a bit, ahem, efficient. My name is Bond. James Bond.

 - Nice to meet you Mr Bondjamesbond. I'm Ivanka.


Ivanka moved quickly up to Bond, hugged him tightly and they kissed. After that she told Bond that her father was very jealous of her boyfriends, so he had to pretend to be her new secretary.

Bond was assembling the puzzle. Trump 1 is the car of the boss and Chrischristie his bodyguard and driver. This Ivanka is thus Ivanka Trump his daughter. So the short-fingered vulgarian is Mr Trump nee Drumpf and is about the age he could be this girl's father. Or grandfather. The elevator stopped at the penthouse floor and the doors opened. Ivanka kssed him on the lips and whispered,

- I have to go to the bathroom. Go straight ahead to through those doors, get a drink and I'll join you.


Scene 7 - Trump Boardroom

Bond opend one of two giant gold-colored doors and stepped into Trump's sumptuous office. The wall were floor-to-ceiling with framed magazine covers of Trump's face. Egotistical vulgarian, thought 007. He heard an angry noise

-Who are you?

Bond turned to see the Trump sitting on a raised pedestal behind a giant desk. Clearly Trump had forgotten the biggest loser at the airport. Nobody else was in the room but Bond could hear footsteps approaching which would probably be Chrischristie who would certainly remember Bond. But before Bond had the chance to say anything, Trump continued:

- This is a top secret meeting. You're fired!

Bond excused himself and quickly turned and exited the room just as Chrischristie entered from an adjacent room. Bond faced away while stepping out..

Closing the giant gold-color door behind him, 007 noticed a bust of Hitler on a prominent pedestal in the corridor. The letter T in Hitler was a bit tilted. Bond put the letter in the vertical position but it seemd to him that the letter could also take a horizontal position. The moment he further tilted the letter T to fully horizontal, a secret passage opened just beside the pedestal.

Bond entered the passage, the door automatically closed. He found himself in a small room with one-way mirror apparently intended to spy on supposedly secret meetings held in the Boardroom. There was an iPhone set up in a clumsy way on a selfie stick apparently used instead of serious professional videorecording equipment. What kind of supervillain is this guy Trump if he can't afford a regular videocamera? Bond pocketed the iPhone certain that Q can breach its security. The conversation in Trump's office was perfectly audible:

- I need more media attention!...

- But we are running out of outrageous statements, sir. The Mexicans are rapists, the Mulsims are terrorists, your penis is huge, Hillary got schlonged, The Pope is disgraceful, Megyn is bleeding, Ted is a maniac...

- I don't care, I absolutely need a decoy operation to distract the attention of the US population from the GOP operation.

Bond knew he had found the right man with of the golden hair. So this was part of the GOP plot. Bond heard Chrischristie answer

- How about setting up a grandiose contest similar to Miss Universe, only the participants are men and whoever is more endowed sexually wins the big prize? 

- Don't be silly. And we don't have that kind of time. I have the meeting with our parters at Trump International in Las Vegas tomorrow before I go to the construction site of the Wall. I need something now. Lets do something like the USA needs more torture. Yes, lets torture someone, who can we torture?

- Terrorists?

- Great, those IHOP guys, who are those ragheads there in the Midwest

- Middle East. ISIS, sir.

- Yes, ISIS, in the central East.

- No, Middle East

- Yeah whatever. What are you now? A geography genius? I went to Wharton, its one of the best schools, I am really really smart. I know countries. I know lots and lots of countries. So shut up. Now update me with all of The Wall

Bond's near perfect auditory memory stored the vital phrase which he would inform London. The grand scheme was possibly called Of The Wall, Off The Wall or perhaps just The Wall. Bond had no idea what that meant but it didn't matter. Bond had long since stopped attempting to outguess Supervillian megalomaniacical plans, just accept them for their bizarre internal logic and whatever terminology they may have had.

- We just learned that Bloomberg is definitely gonna run. He's announcing tomorrow. His press conference is at 10 in the morning.

- That miserable waist-high, midget-pygmy loser? He’s a stiff! He chokes! He's a bigger loser than Obama. He’s worse than Mitt Romney. He’s as bad as W!

- Yes, what do you want us to do.

- Send him the package

- Seriously?

- Do I look like I need to repeat myself? You all are losers, the whole lot of you, Santorum, Huckabee, you. Idiots. I said. Send. Him. THE PACKAGE !.

- Now?

- Would day after tomorrow help stop him? No. OF COURSE you send it now. And I mean now. Have that religious nut Santorum deliver it in person. In 15 minutes.

- They’re all religious nuts

- Yeah but Santorum is nutty even for religious nuts. He’s perfect. Send the package. NOW!


Bond could hear the rapid clicking of high heels on the marble floor tiles. Ivanka was back in the corridoor. He had to get out of here the moment she stepped into the Boardroom. Bond could hear the door opening, he pushed the secret door open and quickly stepped out. He twisted the letter T on Hitler's bust back to its upright position and the secret door closed. He could hear muted discussion, clearly Ivanka was asking about where her new secretary was.


Scene 8 - Trump staircase

Bond saw neither of the two VIP elevators was at the top floor. He hurried to the door of the stairway and stepped inside and closed the door. Ivanka would have to wait. Bond had to get to tell M about who belonged to the golden flock of hair, and the connection to GOP. And Bond had to get to Vegas.

He was running down the stairs when suddenly a door opened as a security guard was coming for a cigarette break apparently, to smoke illegally here in the staircase. He looked at the onrushing Bond. Bond recognized the face as the guard who had beaten up the homeless veteran on the street. As the security guard reached for his gun he demanded:

- Who the fuck are you?

- I'm James Bond ,who are you?

- I'm Mike Huckabee goddammit and stop running!

Bond thought to himself, whats the obsession with fat security guards with this Trump character as he kicked the gun out of Huckabee's hand. It clattered down the staircase. Bond was going to take his time with this sadist. Suddenly Huckabee's left hand had a switch-blade knife. Bond struck at Huckabee's arm with a rapid Karate-chop, the knife dropped to the floor but Huckabee's right hand had produced a hand grenade.

- What are you gonna do with that? Blow yourself up? You know if you explode the grenade here inside this staircase, the shrapnel will shred both of us.

Huckabee hunched his shoulders and said:

- oh, shucks

Huckabee looked at the hand grenade, then back at Bond's angry face. He took a breath, as if to say something, then let the air out. He added:

- I guess you're right. I won't be needing this.

Huckabee tossed the hand grenade away without pulling its pin so it just noisily bounced down the stairs. Clank, clank, clank. As Bond was about to hit Huckabee, his left hand had somehow miraculously produced a short pointed stick.

What kind of conjurer was this Huckabee fellow, Bond wondered. He lunged at his foe, quickly pivoted and grabbed the stick with his left hand and twisted it out of Huckabee's grasp. Before Bond had time to react, Huckabee's right hand held a short baseball bat.

Where did that come from? KLONK. Bond wondered as he felt the bat strike his skull hard, painfully but not quite knocking 007 out. KLONK. Huckabee had hit 007 a second time. KLONK. Bond got angry, grabbed the bat and threw it away. Huckabee had now a whip in his left hand. Does he think he's some kind of Indiana Jones?

Huckabee made a quick whip lash and drew blood from Bond's cheek. Then Huckabee hit again but Bond was faster, grabbed the whip and janked it out of Huckabee's hand. Now he pulled out.. what? A book? A black book? Was that, a Bible?

- What are you, Huckabee, a preacher?

- In fact I am, and this is a particularly powerful Bible

Huckabee opened the book and took out the hidden revolver. It was the Shooter's Bible. Powered by the NRA. 007 made a quick left-right-left set of lunges, then kicked the gun out of Huckabee's hand.

Now Huckabee had somehow found a little Derringer gun into his hand. Must have been hidden in an ankle holster. Bond had had enough. He quickly drew his trusty Walther PPK, fired a double tap into Huckabee's forehead just between the eyes, and before he had started to fall, a second double-tap to his chest, through his heart. His ears were still ringing from the loud echo of the shots in the staircase. Bond knew the place would be swarmig with security guards momentarily. He pocketed his firearm, opened the door to the corridoor and walked calmly to the elevators pressing the down button. The elevator arrived in seven seconds and nobody came out of the elevator. Bond went in and pressed the button for the bottom, L for Lobby. The Kone elevator started its high-speed descent as Bond surveyed the security camera and speculated about the ceiling, if he should try to climb to the rook of the elevator cabin.


Scene 9 - HQ of Bloomberg News in New York City

Former New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg was busy running his first full campaign staff meeting with the cream of the crop of the moderate political spectrum. His Campaign Manager was Democrat James Carville. His Press Secretary was Republican Joe Scarborough. His National Security Advisor was Republican Colin Powell. His Data Boss was Democrat Jim Messina. The opposition reseach team was headed by Jon Stewart. His Senior Citizen reach head was former Florida Governor Charlie Crist. His Black community ambassador was Oprah. His gay community outreach head was the smartest of this lot of sharp operatives, none other than Rachel Maddow. This dream team of American politican competence were meeting for the first time and discovering the rest of the team and each was equally impressed. With Bloomberg’s money, a centrist agenda and this dream team, they could not lose.

A secretary knocked on the door and came to whisper in diminutive Bloomberg’s ear. He excused himself and stepped outside the room. A man was waiting for him. The man called himself Santorum. Just Santorum. Santorum, thought the inquisitive Bloomberg, what an interesting name, I should google it. Santorum handed Bloomberg a small gold-color box slightly larger than a cigarette box. It was gift-wrapped in wide gold ribbon. The man left.

Bloomberg’s secretary took out scissors and carefully opened the box. She lifted the lid to find the box was nearly empty. It was black velvet on the inside. It contained only a small flock of hair, what looked at first like a baby’s hair but on closer observation, it was long, worn, destroyed hair from too much color, spray and folding. She did not see Bloomberg turn pale. Bloomberg never returned to the meeting.

45 minutes later CNN reported breaking news that New York’s former Mayor Michael Bloomberg had announced he was not running for President. No reason was given.


Scene 10 - Onboard British Airways flight to London

Bond settled into seat 03D onboard the Boeing 787 Dreamliner of British Airways in First Class. His regular seat. One of the four lovely air hostesses who served the 12 passengers in First Class was a past acquaintance for Bond, named Melanie, and their night on the sky about three years prior was a memorable one. She clearly rememered Bond fondly and was bringing the second Vodka Martini which she remembered to serve shaken, not stirred. Bond asked

- Do you still have that revolting pig swill Trump Vodka onboard?

- Why no, did you drink that disgusting battery acid?

- No.

Bond laughed.

- No, I’d rather drink kerosene. No I was just reminded of the gut-wrenching ants piss and wondered did it still exist.

- I don’t know, honestly James. The last we saw on our flights was several years ago, and we were told that we had to dispose it at the airport. We couldn’t pour it into the toilets because it rotted the pipes. Our maintenance engineers warned that Trump Vodka was more corrosive than the lead in the drinking water in Flint Michigan.

Bond took a sip of his drink and smiled.

- This one is excellent, thank you Melanie.

She beamed and gave Bond that look which meant, it was going to be another good night on the night flight to London Heathrow.

Scene 11 - London MI7 HQ

M was looking at the gold-color iPhone with giant TRUMP lettering on it.

- What is this, Bond, and what am I supposed to do with it?

- Sir, its an iPhone

- a what?

Tanner, M’s Chief of Staff interrupted

- Sir, its a smartphone from America. Many people use them nowadays. Its like a small pocket computer.

Then he turned to Bond and added

- I can take it Bond. We’ll give it to Q but I’m pretty sure that encryption is unbreakable. You should have stolen a Microsoft Lumia. Any child can get inside Windows

- Well I’m sorry Tanner but that Mr Trump apparently didn’t care for Microsoft phones.

Bond added in a low voice: “and neither does anybody else.”

M asked “What was that, 007?”

- Nothing, Sir.

Tanner looked at Bond with his usual frown. He placed the iPhone back on M's desk. M regarded the gadget with obvious contempt like it emitted some nasty odor. Bond changed subjects

- So have you found out anything about this Mr Trump.

- Yes, 007, we do work here on the ground while you fly around the planet collecting your airmiles like some Formula 1 racecar driver or a bestselling mobile technology book author. Tanner, tell him what we discovered

- Trump is actually a small-time con-artist who has for decades claimed to be a billionare. He’s managed to fool even some of their domestic business press. Forbes even rates him now supposedly as a billionaire.

- So he’s not rich? What about the giant building with his name in huge gold letters, and the gold Rolls Royce and his big airplane.

- Its all a fraud. The car and plane are leased and most of the time are rented to movie appearances and other such things. Trump's plane is just a prop, its no longer licenced to fly and he couldn't afford to fill the fuel tank far less to pay the salaries of two competent Boeing 757 pilots. He just has his jet taxied around JFK airport a few times a year to create the illusion he has just arrived to New York. He hasn't even got a valid passport. Its all in the public records, Trump has rented long-term parking for the plane. He won't even wash it unless he has a photo-op by the plane. The building with his name, Trump Tower - and there are dozens more around the world - he doesn’t own them. Not after he bankrupted four of his companies in a row. Nobody would lend him a wooden nickle. All of his properties have been sold years ago. He makes a tiny allowance from some royalties and has to appear in silly American reality-TV shows and beauty contests just to make ends meet. His taxable income was well under a million. In New York City, on Manhattan, that qualifies him as poor. Our CIA friends had seen reports that Trump actually attended Occupy Wall Street protests among the homeless, obviously incognito without that thing on his head, but no photographic evidence exists of it. That might also be just another vicious rumor spread by his rival, another con man from Texas, Ted Cruz.

- So its a front? But why?

- He has created a particular scam that works for him and probably nobody else. He keeps claiming to be rich and powerful, so enough people buy his various scams for a while, to let him just bankrupt the previous one and start the next one. Enough to pay the rent.

- What kind of scams?

- Trump University, Trump Mortgage, Trump Vodka, now he is selling some Trump suits but many department stores are rejecting them as poor quality made in China rags.

Tanner and Bond both slowly turned to stare at M in his crumpled suit.

- this was a gift from my cousin who lives in New York.

- Yes, Sir. I have a good tailor here on Bond Street, would you like me to make an introduction?

- No, 007. I don’t need dressing assistance.

Tanner and Bond exchanged looks. They returned to Trump. Tanner continued

- His latest scam is TrumpX the future transportation scam. His current concept he is peddling is laser-based magnetism,

- Laser based magnetism? I have an advanced degree in physics but I never heard of that?

- Thats right, 007, because its utter nonsense. Lasers can't create magnetic attraction. He has somehow convinced Americans that their next high speed rail project, to move faster than China's and Japan's MagLev trains, is to use laser magnets. Its very slickly produced by his chief scientist, a guy called Glenn Beck. He is regularly on Fox and various late night news shows with bizarre flapcharts trying to explain it. 

- And Americans send him the money?

M interjected

- 007, remember our American cousins have taken a liking for avoiding any proper education. Their previous fad was the nonsense sciences like basketweaving and advanced Bernie Sandersian Socialism. Now they have resorted to ripping out pages from science textbooks and home schooling. 27% of science teachers are using the Bible as their primary science textbook in high schools. Tanner, tell him about his name. 

- His name is Donald J Trump. We have seen that he changed that name.

- From what?

- From Donald Duck Trump, but that is not the name he was born as, or not at least as far as we’ve been able to find. There is no record of a birth of any Donald Trump, not in the USA or any of our friendly nation databases. We are still looking but we think he was born something else.

- Why don’t you try Donald Drumpf

- Drumpf, interesting. Why do you think that?

- Its the German original spelling of the name, if I am not mistaken.

- Is it? I studied French at University

- Et moi aussi.

- Sorry, Bond?

- And so did I, Sir.

- Oh, yes of course. Oui.

Tanner had an awkward pause and then added suddenly. Merci. I didn’t score very well with my languages.

- Well, there is not much call for it here at the headquarters where all speak the Queen’s English, but we chaps in the field.

M interrupted - yes 007, we know you mastered 27 languages. Stop showing off. Now, tell him about the project

- What project would that be?

- We ran the phrase you picked up through our computers. You remember 'Of the Wall'. First we thought it was related to Michael Jackson's album Off The Wall, and our analysts spent a night listening and analyzing the lyrics and music for any clues but its mindless disco drivel. Then someone suggested it might be The Wall by Pink Floyd. Four our our analysts are still at the mental institute after overdosing on those lyrics and music, but we decided, the evidence was inconclusive at best. Someone then noticed that CNN had a story about Trump building a giant wall at the Mexican border. He is so narcissistic he named it the Trump wall and he's so insecure, he couldn't accept the historical relevance of the Great Wall of China, he now calls it the Greater Trump Wall. Our college intern suggested that perhaps when Trump talked about 'the Wall' he might be referring to this giant construction project under his control, the largest civil engineering and construction site of the modern world. We accepted that while the likelihood was remote, it was plausible. So we have assigned one double-oh agent to go study that wall. 

M interjected

- That would be you 007. And don't think this is some holiday-honeymoon-romantic getaway while its in Las Vegas. You are to go to inspect The Wall and not pursue some personal vendetta against this man Trump. Now continue with the briefing, Tanner

- The Trump wall is more than a thousand miles long and its being built near the border. Trump claims the wall is being paid for by the Mexican government but the Mexican government has vehemently denied this. As Trump is a pathological liar, we think that is also some kind of scam but we have not yet figured that part out. We asked the Mexican Ambassador to see if there is anything to it, but you have to go see for yourself.

- Do we know anything about this ‘the wall’?

- Nothing. We even don’t know how long or how high it is, every time Trump mentions it, the specifications are different and the construction plans are all labeled top secret by the local governments now under the full control of the evil GOP. But it seems to be important to his scam that people believe that its paid for by the Mexican government because that is the only item in the story that never changes. That is also how we know, that this part of the story, paid by Mexico, is the only aspect which is definitely not true. We have not yet unravelled the part about who pays. An independent commission by Senator Elizabeth Warren has been digging into the financial arrangements and they seem more obscure than the companies controlled by the Koch brothers.

- Do we have more information from the flock of hair. Any DNA samples?

- No, the hair is so destroyed there is no DNA pattern detectable anymore. But if you can pick off one or two of his hairs when you next see Donald Trump, that would be useful. A live hair will have enough DNA that we could find out a lot more about him.

- I'll make a point of snatching a hair when he isn't looking. I'm sure he won't notice.

Tanner stared at Bond again in his angry way. Why couldn't 007 just simply obey and do as he was told. And why did M put up with Bond. He didn't play favorites with any of the other double-Ohs. Tanner kept quiet but expressed severe disapproval with his glance.

- If that wlll be all, Sir, I need to go pick up some supplies.

- Yes 007, you're dismissed. But leave the iPhone.

Bond reached into his pocket and returned the iPhone he had snatched, and placed it back to the desk in front of his boss. 

Bond spoke in the direction of M and said Thank you, Sir. He didn't look up. Bond turned and didn't look at the Chief of Staff when Bond just acknowledged: Tanner. There was no reply either. He stepped out of the office and straight into the arms of Miss Moneypenny. Sorry, I have to run. America. Bond threw a kiss at her.



Scene 12 - London MI6 HQ, basement. Q's Lab

James Bond was being fitted for his new gear. The shoe laces were again changed for yet another stronger composite fibre. Q finished the artificial skin over 007's pinkie finger to hide the small lockpick. He received another Omega Seamaster with again more little tricks built in. Bond asked

- could I have an Apple Watch instead

- No 007. This is an Omega

- I know what it is, but an Apple Watch has these really cool interchangable screen savers

- No 007 you're not getting a smart watch.

- You're no fun anymore. What about a

- No you're not getting a Galaxy Gear either. Stop interrupting me. Now where did I put it..

Bond reached for the Google Cardboard viewer but Q snapped at his hand and said in his disappointed voice,

- Behave 007. Now this is your new phone

- But thats an Xperia. Its a lousy Sony

- I know, but we're on a budget here like everywhere else here at The Circus.

- You can't get me an iPhone? The 6 Plus S is a nice phone

- Yes it is, 007, but now, we can't afford iPhones now to field agents.

- But my friends at the CIA and at Mossad..

- You're not getting an iPhone

- Come on, even the French Secret Service

- If you wish to resign your double-oh commission and go work for the frogs, I am sure M will happily sign your papers

- How about a Galaxy, isn't the ..

- No, 007. No Galaxies either.

- What about an HTC? Or a Lenovo or a ZTE. Or a Huawei

- No 007. Its either the Xperia or..

- Or what?

- A Microsoft Lumia

- I'll take the Xperia. Do you know if there are covers that can hide the hideous thing so its not obvious I'm using a damned Sony. Its embarrassing

- If you get a gig to Hong Kong, they apparently do. Wait. Seems like 009 just got the Hong Kong gig. Sorry. Want it in pink or white?

- Don't you have black

- 004 just took the last black one, what? I think he was here just 15 minutes ago. Sorry 007, other double-ohs respect my work and don't clown around all the time. And they return their cars intact. So pink or white

Bond entertained the idea of taking on a role as a gay hairdresser for this project and selecting the pink, but couldn't summons the courage for it. Give me the white one.

- Its earphones are broken, you can't use it to listen to music or watch movies. but it works as a phone.

- does the camera work? 

- yes

- ok, I'll take it.
 
Five hours later 007 was back onboard British Airways heading West over the Atlantic. It was a triple-7 Boeing this time, direct flight to Las Vegas. Bond slept the whole way through and didn't take the breakfast.

Scene 13 - Las Vegas Airport Rent-a-Wreck counter

Bond hated the latest austerity plan of Her Majesty’s Government. He was super-extra-premium-diamond-platinum secret superVIP status on all major car rental companies, Avis, Hertz, Budget, Alamo, Europcar, and even National. But now all double-oh agents were forced to rent used cars. So he was at Rent-a-Wreck counter asking if they credited miles to his BA frequent flier card. They didn't.

- So sign here for your Ford Ka. It will be 39 dollars per day..

- Do you have an Aston Martin?

- You had booked the Ford Ka

- I know, but do you have an Aston Martin?

- It costs extra

- I know, but do you have an Aston Martin?

- You have to also take the GPS package and there is a premium insurance

- I know but do you have an Aston Martin?

- I have one. It has one of those ridiculous flappy-paddle gear shifts that nobody in their right mind can operate. Unless you’re a Michael Friggin’ Schumacher, you can’t get it to the right gear ever and then it keeps stalling on you. I have tried to operate that car for three years and its just useless. Take a standard automatic like in a proper American car.

- I know the flappy-paddle gear shift. I have an Aston Martin myself back home. I will take it. How much?

- It will cost you 2.99 more per day. Are you sure you want to take this upgrade? I have a convertible Mustang for just 99 cents more than the Ka. Its much faster than the Aston Martin and even a child can operate the automatic on it. My grandson is 6, he’s driven the Mustang.

- No thanks, I’ll take the Aston.

- Listen, I’ll give you a Cadillac Escallade for 1.49 extra. Or you can have a Corvette convertible for 1.79 above the Ka, its faster than the Aston in a straight line. I’ll even toss in free shotgun, a box of ammo and free one-year membership to the NRA with the Vette. Trust me, its a much better car in a straight line.

- No thanks, I also need to turn. I’ll take the Aston

- You know its a British car, right?

- Yes, I’m British. And I own an Aston Martin back home. I’ll take the Aston.

- And you know we drive on the right-hand side of the road here in Nevada, right?

- Yes I have driven here in the USA many times before, including four times here in Las Vegas.  I’ll take the Aston

- If you return it when you can’t operate the nutty gear shift paddles, I can’t give you anything else than the Ford Ka you had originally booked and I can’t refund the difference in the price either.

- I know, I won’t be returning it early. I’ll take the Aston

- And you have to have the tank filled when you return it

- I know. I’ll take the Aston

- I have a Dodge Viper for...

- I’ll take the Aston.

- Ok, its your funeral. Sign here.

Bond made a note of the name on the Rent-a-Wreck sales rep’s name badge. Rumsfeld. Funny name. Wasn’t there once a Rumsfeld in the Bush-Cheney administration? A total basketcase. Known unknowns and manny hanny the sky is falling. Can’t possibly be the same guy but he would be about the right age.Bond signed the paperwork and as he turned to leave, he asked

- Do you know the shortest way to get to the Trump International hotel?

- Yeah, you can't miss it. Just drive North, South, East and West, somewhat. Have a nice day

Moments later Bond was the freeway pondering the weird car rental guy. He couldn't be...

Bond was noticing several beautiful women in convertibles as he was heading towards Las Vegas when suddenly his attention was grabbed by a golden billboard advertising the new wall: "Come visit the Greater Trump Wall, much taller, thinner, darker, more sinister, more osbtructing, more beautiful and more luxurious than the Great Wall of China". Bond was quick with his Xperia and snapped a picture of the billboard as he Astoned by.

This smells very Trumpy, 007 thought to himself. He was certain it had to be this Greater Trump Wall was indeed what Trump was referring to. But what secret project could be related to a wall? In particular a thin wall? There couldn't even be something inside it. 007 was determined to discover its secret.

Later Bond spotted a similar billboard coming up, he now had his Xperia ready for the picture, and observed the ad text was in Spanish. It included an additional line to come see it from the Mexican side. So this was becoming a genuine tourist attration even driving some international travel. Bond would have to select his spot carefully to see where he could climb the fence in relative privacy. 


[ Here is opening for you our reader to contribute if you want to help write this story. I will be skipping ahead because of other ideas that already have come in from our contributors. Feel free to add here or to later points. Leave your contributions into the comments thread ]

Scene 14 - on the USA-Mexico border

Bond had been dragging the four logs for five hours and was sweating thoroughly in the blistering afternoon sun. Now he had enough pieces. He took his Omega Seamaster watch and patiently wove out the hidden microfibre steel-silk-carbonfibre reinforced wire. Bond used the wire to fasten one joint between two lengths of logs. Then he took off his shoes, pulled out the tungsten-steel wire shoelaces wtih their thin nylon coating. By tying two shoelaces together it was just long enough to affix the next joint. Now he needed one more joint. Bond decided it was time to destroy his shirt. It was pretty useless anyway by now, torn and totally wet. But as all of Bond’s gear, this too was from Q division and had carbon fibre threds interweaved into the cloth in one direction, so the shirt could be ripped easily into shreds but the shreds would not then tear.

Half an hour later 007 was finished and started to raise his contraption alongside the wall. Boy that was a tall wall. He got his uniladder or glorified selfie-stick up leaning against the wall, and he noticed it still was not tall enough. Maybe if he climbed to the top, he might be able to jump and catch the top of the fence and pull himself up. But he would have only one chance, that jump would need to be everything he could give, and then he’d definitely miss the top of his pole, and if he came down, he’d break his leg or worse.

Bond was not On Her Majesty’s Secret Service to be stopped by a bit of fear or long odds. He started to climb up the wiggly triple-jointed wooden pole. He made it just over half way when it started to buckle, and he barely caught himself as the thing crashed down. As Bond surveyed the mess, he heard an unwelcome noise. A pickup truck was coming.

- Howdy, whatcha doin there, partner?

An older lady with raspy voice and Southern twang called out from the cab of a Ford F pickup truck with extended cab and dual gun racks on the rear window.

- I’m a tourist.

- You tryin’ to get over that there fence, Mister?

- Well, yes.

- Those logs ain’t gonna cut it, trust me. This wall is a Trump wall, you ain’t ever gonna get over it unless you get yourself some real ladders. Here, let me help you.

She sprung out of the cab of the pickup truck and with quite sprightly energy for what must have been near 80 year old lady, she leaned into the bed of her truck and grabbed a massive aluminum ladder.

- Here, let me help you with that, M’am.

- No, you got quite a bump when you fell down, you just sit there a moment, honey, and relax. We’re used to doing things here us women, here on the frontier. The men, they’re all just talk and no action, you know, present company excepted.

- No harm done, m’am

- Yeah, no, my husband, he’s always somewhere else with his volunteering shit, so its usually just me and my daughter, we ladies gotta do all the real work around these parts when we’re here at the farm. This isn’t that heavy, the ladder, I’d say its what, 50 pounds. That was the thing that got me with that city-slicker from fancy New York. He came and had this ridiculous eyesore fence built. Or well, they're still building it further up there to the West. That Mr Trump he says Mexico's gonna pay for it. I ain't buying it. I know plenty of 'em Mexicans. Nice people. Smart as a whip. Ain't no way they be that dumb to pay for this dang fence. Its a useless waste. This fence you know what it cost? It costs a cool ten billion. Ten billion dollars. Yes sir. And what good is it, if any old grandma can hop over it with a dang 40 dollar aluminum ladder from K-Mart. Don't make no sense. And ain't that Mexican born dumb enough to pay for such a useless and ugly decoration. No way sir-ee. Mark my words. Only a city fool would even suggest this monstrocity. And yet, here it is, courtesy of that Mister Donald J Trump of New York City. Now. The ladder, see, here, let me extend this for you, see, like this.

- Thank you, m’am. Trust me, I can take it from here.

- Suit yourself. Now, when you’re on the top, you gotta lift the ladder and bring it to the other side, so be careful, on the top it can be a bit weezy. Trust me, we’ve done this many times. We call these ladders our ladders of opportunity after that orange-faced buffoon built this stupid wall here in the middle of nowhere. When you’re done, just bring the ladder to our farm. Its 3 miles that-away. If I’m not there, my husband will be, his name is Bill. He likes strangers, he won’t shoot ya.

- Thank you, m’am. I’ll do that. My name is James Bond. I will definitely return the ladder later today. And while I got your husband’s name, what is your name?

- Why I’m Hillary, sugar. Plain ole' Hillary Clinton. If you’re lucky you’ll meet my daughter Chelsea. Now, she's already married but she's still a looker. And she’ll make you a nice cup of tea mixed with our special hot chili. It'll boil the warts off an old man's pecker as we say these parts. Enjoy your sight-seeing.

Bond watched the old peppery lady speed off into the dust cloud and then started to climb the long ladder of opportunity....

Scene 15 - TrumpX Space Station on the US-Mexican border

James Bond was over the fence in 7 minutes now with the help of Grandma Clinton's ladder of opportunity. He compressed the ladder to its shortest length and then hid it as much as he could, enough that on casual view it wouldn't be obvious to passers-by and possible fence guards. Bond started to walk South. He knew the fence was the demarkation of the border so this must therefore be Mexico. But nobody was there to stamp his passport. Bond felt the ground tremor, like a mild earthquake. Then considerable noise came and suddenly he saw briefly a fireball a few miles further South. A rocket launch? A missile test site, perhaps. Bond started to jog in the sun towards the approximate launch location. Where there were rockets being launched, there were people. And something was happening with this bizarre 'the fence' project and it clearly was not meant to stop people from moving across the border.

Bond soon arrived to a large rocket launch site. Smack in the middle of the desert, in a deep valley, and then, Bond noticed something very straight-line on the horizon. Nature does not make straight lines. That is man-made. Then Bond understood, it was a wall. Bond turned to face back to see the wall he had just scaled. Same wall. Same wall? There are two walls, aarallel walls. They look the same, and are far too tall to be seen over, so nobody knows the single wall splits here into this parallel wall section. Nobody can see it unless they fly directly over it. From either side they just think the wall was bullt a bit closer for a short distance, not exactly followig the border. Ingenius idea. As long as Trump had the border guards under his control on both sides, he could hide this land forever. as a 'no man's land' between the two fences. A Trumpian invisible zone. Just like Dick Cheney's house had been erased from all maps. But this area was huge, must be at least 20 miles long and 5 miles wide. A barren mostly-desert District of Trump. A Trumpsylvania. More like a Pottsylvania.

Bond moved rapidly closer to the main buildings and kept out of sight as much as possible. He waited for his moment and entered the largest building. It was a launch storage hangar with several large rockets already erect, ready to be rolled out to the launching pad. Giant rockets those could put satellites to space. Bond saw the crew working on one satellite element that was being hoisted up to the nosecone of one of the rockets. Bond couldn't tell what the satellite would be intended to do from this distance but he saw where it came from. There were six large crates. Bond counted 5 rockets. One had its nosecone intact, they were now affixing the second one. Nobody was minding the crates. Bond sneaked to take a closer look.

It wasn't a communications satellite, that was obvious. It had a particular protruding element but the machinery was branded with a German company's identity. Drumpf Prezitsion Lasergerät Instrumente Gmbh. Laser precision instruments? That was one massive laser. Bond snapped a quick picture of the device with his Sony Xperia smartphone and quickly looked inside the other two crates with payloads inside. Same type of laser device. So Trump is putting some lasers into space.

- Hey who are you!

Bond turned to see a blonde woman pointing a rifle at his head

- I'm a tourist, I am studying the types of cactus here in the desert but I seem to be lost

- there aren't any cactus inside that box. This is private property. Lets see some ID.

Bond observed that the woman had a name badge Sarah Palin on her uniform

- Listen, Miss Palin

- Its Mrs Palin to you

- Yes, Mrs Palin, I seem to have left my driver's licence at my car, its parked right at the wall.

Bond flashed her his best smile. Sarah Palin started to melt and fall for Bond

- Ok, lets go get it then. hop-hop, drlll baby drill.

Palin poked 007 with the barrell of the rifle and pushed him to start walking

Bond started to walk then quickly turned, grabbed the barrel of the rifle and twisted it from Sarah Palin's hands

- Now you come with me, I do know how to use this weapon and you will walk ten paces in front of me, that way

Bond led Palin to the desert. As she was walking facing away from the rocket site, Bond threw the rifle away and kept following Sarah Palin and telling her not to turn to look at him. She didn't know he was no longer having the rifle.

As the two approached the wall, Bond told Sarah Palin to stop. She turned and saw 007 was now without the rifle.

- Oh, man, I knew you'd do that. Hey, wanna have a quickie before you go over the wall?

- No, thanks, I gotta go. You can go back, the rifle is about half-way on your way to the rocket site.

- Actually, can I come with you? I'm really good with maps, I could see Russia from my old house in Alaska. And I'm good hunting, been huntin' moose all my life. I''m smarter than Trump. I have read all the newspapers. Can I come with you?

- No, you have to go back.

- Aw, shucks. I hate working for that Trump dude, he's such a bore.

Bond glanced at his watch, it was time to get out so he'd make it in time for the big ball that Trump was arranging at his hotel. Bond dug up the ladder and climbed over the wall. Sarah Palin watched 007 go over the wall, then turned to walk back to the rocket facility.


Scene 16 - Las Vegas Trump International Hotel

James Bond was dressed in a simple white tux coat with black pants, white shirt and black bow tie. All by Brioni. He walked into the giant ballroom where 7,000 people were huddled, standing-room only. They were all dressed.. casually. Usually in blue jeans and t-shirts saying 'Make America Great Again' and He could see the huge Trump signs behind the podium. The loudspeakers were wailing Ted Nugent, not Bond’s favorite artist. He was more of a 50 cent/Public Enemy type of mellow guy in his musical tastes.

Bond observed that the room was mostly men: middle-aged white men. Only about one in ten people in attendance was female and less than one in 20 of the people in the was of any minority. Suddenly the music stopped. The loudspeakers asked the crowd to stand up and make their pledge. Bond knew this ritual well. The Americans had these sorts of superficial pledges of loyalty all the time, at their sporting events, and so forth. Put your hand over your heart, sing one of the two national anthems and so forth. They’d maybe even do a prayer. Then Bond noticed that they did not put their hands to their hearts. They raised their right hands high. It was as if they were doing the Heil Hitler salute.

- We pledge allegiance to Donald Trump...

007 couldn’t believe his eyes. This was like a bad Hollywood plot. A Hitler allegiance ritual? Even the movies stopped with this cliche back in the 1970s as utterly unbelievable. Yet here he was, at the Trump International and these seven thousand Americans were just pledging allegiance to another bad comb-over.

After the pledge, the lights were dimmed and the MC was climbing up to the stage. It was some old loser Republican hoping to have a lousy last gig hosting actual celebrities in Vegas. The man’s name was Leno. He had a big chin. He was clearly trying to sound funny. Bond tuned out his droning voice as he pondered the cult-like following. Speaking in broad generalizations, simplifying political issues and engendering mistrust seemed almost too simple. All at once the MC had stopped talking.

Suddenly, all went dark. A single SuperTrooper spotlight picked him out form the crowd. Bond was blinded. The room was silent.

- Mr Trump, I presume

007 said into the vast darkness of the room. A familiar voice thundered back over the loudspeakers

- HAH. STUPID BRITS THINK THEYRE SMARTER THAN AMERICANS

- What gave me away?

- YOU APOLOGIZED WHEN MY EMPLOYEES BUMPED INTO YOU. MY. FOLLOWERS. NEVER. APOLOGIZE.

- I hope you don't expect an apology now, do you?

- NO MR. BOND, I EXPECT YOU TO DYE!!!

Bond felt something pierce his skin through his clothes. As his eyes closed his mind told him he had just been stuck by a hypodermic needle with some sleeping agent. Bond fell into deep sleep. Chrischristie and Santorum lifted his body and carried it from the room. A moment later Mr Leno returned with his routine and shortly introduced Trump to his eager followers. They would not even remember the dude in waiter’s jacket and strong foreign accent.


Scene 17 - Trump's Suite at Trump International Las Vegas

James Bond woke suddenly to a massive headache. He immediately noticed he was shackled to a sturdy steel bed and his mouth was gagged by duct tape. He had been stripped to his underwear. His watch had been removed. Bond turned his head and noticed Chrischristie sitting perfectly still with his eyes staring into middle distance. Those eyes, that stare was something 007 had never seen before. He had stared into the eyes of coldhearted killers like Scaramanga. He had seen eyes of psycopath killers like Zenya Onatopp. He had seen eyes of indifferent killers like Oddjobb. But nobody had as empty a stare as Chrischristie. It was as if too much total banality had passed those eyes that the eyes themselves couldn't believe the brain had not gone mad and turned the eyes blind. They were beyond futility or despair or misery or desolation. It was beyond all that, when there was no longer .. anything. Bond remembered that emotion and how close he had been, when locked in that North Korean jail when they killed him by scorpion stings every day and then awakened him with anti-venom. Bond didn't want to recollect, the Madonna song was so bad. But that was when he himself had hit his bottom and somehow this Chrischristie had sunk even beneath that level of hopelessness. Those eyes, that stare. There was no word for it. It was like... New Jersey.

The door opened. Santorum stuck his head in and said,

- Boss wants to feed the monkeyboy.

Chrischristie leaned over the face of 007 and ripped the ducktape off, with just about the perfect speed to give most pain and leave a clear red mark. Bond bit his lip and kept quiet. They untied him and gave him a bathrobe in yellowish thick cotton. Or what looked like cotton. When Bond wrapped the bathrobe on himself, it was remarkably uncomfrotable for something looking good on from the outside. It was as if a quarter of the fibers had been replaced with asbestos. 007 looked at the manufacturing label. Trump Garments. Made in China. Genuine Cotton. Materials from Kazakhstan. Cotton content: 17%. The rest of the label was illegible. So it probably was asbestos. 

007 was given an electric razor to shave. He went to the mirror and was stunned. His hair. It was... yellow. His hair had been dyed! It wasn't that ridiculous comb-over but this was still revolting. His hair resembled that disaster worn by Vanilla Ice. Or the ludircous coif of Dolf Lundgren. Bond moved away from the mirror and continued to shave on muscle memory. It wasn't his problem, he didn't have to stare at it over dinner, Bond thought. The good thing with hair was, that it grew out. He could have it colored back the moment he had escaped this gilded cage.


Scene 18 - Trump's Suite: Dining Room

James Bond appreciated the smell of fine cooking eminating from the adjacent kitchen where a Michelin Star cook was preparing their meal. Bond asked his host

- So have you been torturing your prisoners much, recently, Mr Trump?

- Look, Mr Bond. I know all about you and your little Secret Service there in rainy London. Its such a loser country. You're in America now. We're the greatest. We're like undefeated in all the wars that ever were. And our military, you know, its like, you don't want to mess with us, I'll tell you. We're so mightly, its like the militaristiest nation on the planet. We're so strong, you wouldn't believe how strong we are. And don't even go there with the torturing. I have Dick Cheney's toughest daughter Liz Cheney personally running my waterboarding. When we torture people they remain tortured. Not like that loser Obama and his holiday resort at Guantanamo. Now why would you spoil a perfectly nice evening meal talking about torture. Why can't you just sit and relax, you'll be safe. would you like a drink Mr Bond?

- yes, I'd..

- I hear you like Vodka Martinis. I have this extraordinary Vodka, I have hundreds of bottles of it, everybody tells me its great. I don't drink Vodka myself, but everybody says the Trump Vodka is the best vodka they've ever..

- Actually Mr Trump, I don't think a Vodka Martini works as an aperitif, I was wondering if you had perhaps a Whisky? A Scotch? Maybe a Single Malt?

- Oh, sure. I've got them all. I am in Scotland all the time. Or I was until that bastard British government denied my rights to visit the country. You know I own the most beautiful golf course in Scotland. Absolutely, it will tear your heart out, its so beautiful. And the greens!

- So, perhaps a Macallan? Single malt, if you had the 25 year old.

- Yes, of course I do. Give Mr Bond a Macallan. And give him two shots, he has been having a rough day, he probably can handle it

- Thank you Mr Trump.

- And forget about any secret agent tricks. My bodyguards here are ready to kill you if you try anything. Now, where are my manners? this is my wife Melania and my daughter Ivanka. This is Mr Bond our guest. Now aren't my ladies gorgeous? Look at that Ivanka. I swear if I wasn't his dad, I'd be banging her. And don't you Bond get any ideas, she's way too young for you.

- How do you do, ladies.

Melania gave a polite smile, Ivanka winked an eye and mouthed very subtly a kiss. Donald Trump continued

- Why don't you Mr Bond just be civil about everything and enjoy a good meal as my guest? I am a great host. I am a magnificent host. Ask anybody. Ask the ladies. Ask the guys there, my bodyguards, they'll tell you. I'm a great guy. I employ a lot of them and they all love me. Don't you boys? I pay the best wages, thats the secret to good bodyguards. Don't I pay the best? No, don't answer. They always want a salary increase. I'm paying you too much. Seriously, look at this table, look at all what I have brought for us. I am the best host. When I host dinners, you know how many people show up. Let me tell you, the opinion polls about my dinner parties, you wouldn't believe. Its so much better than what those Bushes offer at their ranch in Texas or that moron Mitt in his little bungalow with its car-elevator garage. You think I don't have a car elevator? I've got a car elevator garage! I've got one coming in the Trump Plaza in Buenos Aires. A genuine car-elevator garage. Sure as rain.

- So you don't have a car-elevator garage now?

- No I didin't say that. Of course I have a car elevator and nobody uses them anyway and they're silly gadgets that make it slow to get your car out and I have a big airplane. Its bigger than Air Force One. Yep. Bigger than what the President has, President of the U. S. of A. Your Queen doesn't even have a plane.

- True but my Queen has jumped out of a helicopter with a parachute. She did it with me, didn't blink an eye. Courageous lady she is. Have you ever dared to do a parachute jump?

- I've jumped plenty, many places. I'm always jumping with anything. I was the first kid on our block to have a pogo stick. I can jump higher than, I'm, we'll, the jumpiest person you'll find. I'm brave, you wouldn;t believe how brave I am. I'm probably the bravest man, you know they polled who had the most handsome hair and I came...

- So you didn't parachute.. 

- Excuse me, I've jumped. I've jumped, I've jumped plenty of times. I've jumped on a trampoline. I was just, last week, wasn't I, Melania, I was just jumping from the diving board at the pool. You know..

- So you haven't jum...

- Excuse me. Excuse me. Let me tell you, honestly, we have the biggest swimming pool at the Trump Fantasy Resort. Its going to be three times larger than an Olympic-sized swimming pool.

- So its not ready yet?

- Oh, its ready. You better believe its ready, let me tell you, when its ready its going to be the most beautiful pool you've seen with the wettest water and, its just going to be, I can't tell you how. I had just a Chinese couple buy a condo at that site for 2 million bucks. Thats what the pool is like. Its going to be legendary. People will be writing books about the pool.

- But you're still in the process of constructing that resort?

- True, its actually still at the planning stage because they haven't given it the building permits but it will be, trust me, it will be huge. It will be so, so beautiful it will be great. Like my plane. Its bigger than Air Force One.

- Was that your airplane I saw at JFK last week, beautiful Boeing, with giant TRUMP letters in its side?

- Thats the one. Its a one-of-a-kind. They made it specially for me.

- So its what, a 757?

- Yeah. A Boeing 757. One number bigger than the 747 that Uncle Sam gives to our President. He's a total loser. I mean really. the Bushes were bad but Obama? He is the pits. Yeah, he has to squeeze into that tight plane, flying cattle class, like commoners. I've got my 757, I have so much space, I could rent half the plane and still have more space than the President.

- Air Force One is a Boeing 747-200. That plane has a maximum capacity of 452 passengers. It has a maximum takeoff weight of 800,000 lbs. Its wingspan is 200 feet. Your 757 only fits 239 passengers, has a max takeoff weight of 250,000 lbs and the wingspan is 125 feet. The President's plane is literally twice as large as yours.

- yes, thats what I said. My plane is bigger.

- Mr Trump, you do know how mathematics works, don't you? 

Ivanka had been giving Bond the longing looks at frequent intervals. She finally sensed the pause in the heated conversation

- So Mr Bond, what is it that you do for a living?

Her father rushed to answer before Bond had the time to repond

- He is a British government assassin. Now darling, please be quiet while adults are talking. So Mr Bond, what do you think of my, should I say, lair?

- Well it does have its unmistakable .. flair?

- Ok, thats.. fair.

- A bit too much in the gold color and the asbestos in this robe is itching my skin.. hair

Ivanka interrupted

- You can take the robe off, we won't mind

Melania gave Ivanka a stern look, then tried to signal her husband with her eyes as she said

- Ivanka dear, now, lets not turn this dinner into a Roman orgy. 

She then continued to Bond

- Please ignore the young lady, Mr Bond, she has her hormones running at that age

Donald Trump was too intrigued by Bond to notice his wife sending signals about the clear attraction the daughter was having towards Bond. Donald Trump changed the subject and asked his guest

- Do you enjoy playing games, Mr Bond?

- I have been known to play some games, yes but..

- Good, lets play cards. Bring the tables. Eat up ladies. Come Mr Bond, we've eaten enough

- What game did you think of playing? Baccarat? Bridge? Or perhaps, Poker?

- Yes those are all boring easy games, I have a far more difficult game in mind. A game that requires enormous strategy and deep intellect.

Bond knew the rules to over 700 card games and knew several that deeply he could have been a ranked player had he not been employed by Her Majesty in a job which required some personal choices in avoiding unnecessary visibility. Bond was thinking through his mind, what could be more complex than Baccarat or Bridge? And Trump didn't seem like the type of man who would spend ten minutes learning the rules of Poker far less rules of Barbu or Napoleon. Could he be thinking Pai Go or Cribbage? They weren't that complex games. Maybe Yu Gi Oh. Bond was running through various games certainly if you don't think Baccarat, then most card players would say think Bridge is the toughest to master. Trump led the players from the dining room to the large stateroom,




Scene 19 - Trump International Las Vegas - The Card Game

James Bond watched how the cheap folding round picknick table was brought out for the game. It has a single central leg and a smaller round foot. It looks like it was stolen from a Holiday Inn patio. Bond notices also two mismatched folding aluminum chairs. One has clearly still has a Days Inn logo. It all was such a contrast to how luxurious the standard furnishings were for the hotel. Trump was visibly excited.

- So Mr Bond, we are going to play War. The game is a bit too complex for ladies. It's a men's game. It requires too much strategy and cunning and of course some luck. Would you take a seat opposite me?

As the ladies rolled their eyes about this game being too difficult for ladies, Bond understood. War with its 'highest card wins' rule and no choice by either player on controlling their cards is the simplest children's card game that typically six-year-olds grow tired of. Bond felt it best to first observe Trump rather than be this dependent on fate. Bond had built his career on first learning the rules of any games and then bending or breaking the rules, or finally outright cheating. War didn't seem to offer a chance in any of those.

- Thank you. I'd rather not, i am kind of tired. If you don't mind, I would like to observe while   you play.

- Very well.

Trump eagerly accepts Bond's excuse tells the body guard to go fetch Chrischristie. Trump plays absent-mindedly with the deck of cards but when Chrischristie arrives, Trump hands him the deck and says "you shuffle." Chrischristie remains silent as a monk and starts rapid thorough shuffling of the cards, with the finger dexterity of a Vegas blackjack dealer.

- Mr Bond, while he doesn't speak much, Chrischristie is very good at this game. He gives me a tough challenge

Again Bond sees Ivanka rolling her eyes. Trump continues

- he is my favorite opponent in fact. But I have been lucky even against him, I have never lost. I am a winner Mr Bond, I always win.

Chrischristie deals the cards on the small aluminum round table. While he deals the cards he tries to see the cards that are being dealt. Bond observes immediately the obvious cheating that Chrischristie is doing stacking both decks by cards Chrischristie has obviously selected. He is doing it somewhat routinely, this must be a routine way of how they play. that Trump is clearly aware of Chrischristie's trick but despite that, he seems to be OK with it. Bond was curious to see which way the deck was stacked..

Chrischristie had cheated by dealing the low cards to himself and the high cards to Trump. They draw the first cards. From the second pair of cards, Trump wins.

- You are very talented at this game Mr Trump

Trump beams and replies

- Thank you Mr Bond. Yes, I am on a good winning streak against Chrischristie but he is a very talented opponent, so I must keep my wits, if you don't mind. I have to concentrate. Sometimes the 7 can look like its smaller a number than the 9.

- It is..

- But I then count the actual little pictures, these little red hearts here. I just count them all and then I remember. This is such a complex game.

- I see. And who taught you this game?

- Oh one of the American Grand Masters of this complex game. I was his personal student for 11 years

- Really?

- Yes, I was personally mentored. He also became my teacher as I was far too smart to go to normal high school. Yeah, he lives not so far from here. He lives in Texas. I don't know if you heard of him? He also was the Governor. Rick Perry.

- Rick Perry, the Governor Rick Perry who almost managed to count to three? The man they now call 'Governor Oops' That Rick Perry?

- Thats him! Brilliant guy, absolutely the best. You know he also mentored Ted Cruz in math but apparently Cruz did't appreciate the finer nuances of this card game of War. Yes, my mentor for 11 years. Rick Perry, excellent man, excellent. even though he is mostly retired now. Brilliant man. He can even count without moving his lips. I've seen him do it!

- Do you remember when you last lost a game of War?

- Yes! It was.. what was his name?

The guards say all in unison

- It was RichardRichards, Boss.

- Yes, RichardRichards. He was my previous head of my security detail and my previous bodyguard before our mute man here, Chrischristie.

- And what happened to RichardRichards?

- I had Chrischristie shoot him in the head. It was in this room actually, after I lost that game. Three years ago, was it?

- Yes, Boss.

- And who was your previous bodyguard before RichardRichards, perhaps JohnJohns?

- No, that would be a silly name. No it was JoeJoes. I had RichardRichards shoot him in the head. It was at the Trump Grand. 

Bond saw how Trump's way of playing War was a kind of war.

Bond observed how Chrischristie calmly proceeds to lose every single round. Trump can barely contain his joy and insisted on a new game. Chrischristie maintained his solemn stare and roboticallly shuffled the cards for five minutes and then again started to distribute the cards. Trump seems mesmerized by the cards and then speaks to Chrischristie

- Remember we need to dispose of that king before we can leash the waters.

Chrischristie gives his boss a startled look and then points his head at Bond

- Oh don't mind Mr Bond, he is our guest, aren't you Mr Bond

- Yes, of course Mr Trump.

- And you're not going anywhere, are you?

- No, I'd love to remain here as your guest

Bond looks around the room and counts eleven bodyguards, nine of whom have their guns pointed at 007. 

Melania asks Ivanka to join and get some of the hotel's cookies from the kitchen of the vast hotel suite. They return holding treys full of fresh baked cookies. Trump can't help but notice Ivanka's forms under her robe. He clearly lusts after his own daughter. Meanwhile Chrischristie steals a quick look at Melania. Bond seizes his moment, he quickly rotates the round table 180 degrees. Now Trump's cards are in front of Christie and Christie's cards in front of Trump.

They resume the play. Now Christie starts winning and with every round his face grows whiter and whiter. He just can't understand what the Hell is going on. Trump is mad with rage. Before the last round, and clearly winning the game, Christie faints. Trump:

- I win by TKO, right, James?

Ivanka gives him a meaningful stare. Bond plays along.

- Oh, absolutely Mr. Trump. At the game of War, and I don't mean only the card game, but more broadly the real wars, you are the best.

- Are you sure Mr Bond you do not want to play me one game?

- No, I am certain I could not play it even nearly as well as your fainted driver could. But Mr Trump, would it be ok for me to withdraw for the night? I do feel very tired. Its the jetlag. My body is still on London time

- Yes yes, You, Santorum, go escort Mr Bond to his room and lock him in for the night..Make sure he will sleep comfortably, we have an early morning. I have something I need to show you tomorrow Mr Bond. Something quite interesting. Now I want to go watch the news, to see how much each of the TV networks covered my big rally at the Hotel.

After Santorum and two other security guards escorted 007 around the corner out of view of the ladies, Santorum pulled out his gun and strikes Bond at the spine of his neck. He was out cold. The two other guards picked him up and carried him to his room.


Scene 20 - Trump International in Las Vegas. Bond's Bedroom

For the second time Bond woke up in the middle of the night in a bed with the hands and the feet tied to the bed. Luckily this time he was prepared. He still had the pin taped on his pinkie. The tape has the exact color of his skin, so it went undetected. He retrieved the pin and to his surprise, managed to unlock the handcuffs. Just out of curiosity he checked the handcuffs. Of course, "Trump Sex Toys. Made in China". The door was locked and this time 007 was out of luck. The pin was just too small for this lock. He heard a faint noise in the next room. He jumped into the bed and pretended to be asleep. The door opened. Ivanka arrived wearing an all-latex outfit and she was carrying a giant bullwhip.

-I'll show you what Trump torture is like and you'll learn the hard way.

As she cracked the whip, Bond took hold of the whip and easily overpowered her. Bond pulled Ivanka towards himself. They embraced. They kissed. Then Ivanka whispered

- James, you have to escape tonight. We can meet up later but this place is run by those thugs of the GOP. So you just handcuff me to this bed.

- But won't you get into trouble?

- No, not at all, daddy can't say not to me, and I sleep with all the good-looking men that work for him anyway. So he won't be surprised I came here to your bedroom or that the religious loon Santorum let me in. He'll just assume I slept with that stiff too. You know what his name means? He's so disgusting but that is a perfect name for an evil bad man. He is a Santorum.

Bond kissed and caressed Ivanka one more time, then gently cuffed her to his bed with the Trump Sex Toys handcuffs and stepped out of the room.

007 noticed the corridoor was empty. But he only had his itchy bathrobe. He needed clothes. Trump's size was quite hefty but it would have to do. He silently moved towards the master bedroom. He could hear Melania bitching at Trump in the living room to stop watching his news coverage. Trump slipped into their bedroom. 

Bond quickly picked some items. He spotted a nice charcoal grey Canali suit, pulled it off the hangar - and noticed that the labels were cut. This was a rejected seconds type of suit. Made in Malaysia. Trump was buying his suits at the cheapest outlet malls. And on closer inspection the inside of the jacket and pants revealed several clumsy repairs. Bond didn't care. The suit was several sizes too wide. Trump was a man who liked to eat and was not in good shape. 007 pondered what kind of fitness report a competent doctor would give this heflty man. He grabbed socks - knock-off Calvin Kleins - and shoes and was headed out of the door when he saw - the bed was not made.

Bond came to inspect the pillow area, and jammed at the edge of the bed he found his treasure. A single long yellow frail hair. His DNA sample!

Bond rushed out of the Trump Suite, took the staircase and hurried out of Trump International. A middle-aged woman with a Make America Great Again hat shouted "Hey look, its Vanilla Ice!"

Scene 21 - Onboard American Airlines from Las Vegas to New York City

James Bond was looking at the detail from the pictures captured on his Xperia of the laser devices he saw for the rockets at Trumpsylvania. The laser heads did not seem ‘right’ for tight focusing of laser light. His eyes spotted movement on the periphery of his vision. Legs. Long tanned legs belonging to the passenger seated next to him, the tall blonde who was asleep from when he boarded the plane, had awoken. The plane hit a little bit of turbulence and the woman’s hand grabbed Bond’s arm. He turned with a broad smile and said

- Thats ok, this is only mild turbulence, don’t be afraid. These airplanes are very safe

- Thank you

- My name is Bond, James Bond

- I’m Tammy. Tammy O’Honey

- How do you do. You didn’t join us for the lunch, would you like me to have the stewardess bring you your lunch?

- No, thanks, I’m not hungry on airplanes. I hate to fly

- I see. What do you do, Miss O’Honey?

- I manage a small chain of pet stores in Washington DC. What do you do, Mr Bond?

- Oh nothing that exciting. I am a sales rep for Universal Exports out of London. We sell various types of tubing, I was here discussing a possible pipeline deal. Why were you visiting Vegas, holiday or work?

- I was visiting a relative. I noticed you were watching the movie White House Down earlier while you were eating lunch. How did you like the movie, did it feel realistic to you

007 felt like giving the professional’s assessment of the various technical faults and plot mistakes of the movie, but of course reverted to his cover story

- I am not much of an expert, I thought it was pretty good action but they did seem to take over the White House surprisingly easily. Probably the reality would not be that easy

- No it wouldn’t. I don’t mean that I’d know, but one of my petshops is near the White House and I’ve met several of the security detail who work there. Some have dogs as pets.

- I see, yes. What are you doing going to New York? The Dog Show perhaps?

Tammy O’Honey gave the momentary smile of someone who is ill-prepared for a question. Bond felt something was not quite right with the story she was selling. She recovered almost instantly.

- Actually meeting with a food wholesaler. New York is a big food import and export port, so we get better prices shopping directly in New York than from the wholesalers in DC.

Bond could sense that the plane was just starting its descent, so this adventure and conquest would have to wait for another day. But the tall blonde O’Honey would be worth that journey, if their paths were to cross. 007 had the incling in the back of his mind that they might.

- Well, we’re starting to land. It was nice meeting you Tammy

- You too, James.

Bond returned his concentration to the mission at hand and the items he was bringing to MI6 New York office, including the Golden hair safely stored inside his wallet

Scene 22 - Trump International Las Vegas

- Mr Trump, Mr Trump, please wake up

- Yes what is it Chrischristie?

- Bond has escaped. We found your daughter in his bedroom handcuffed to the bed.

- Who was guarding him?

- Santorum

- That fool. He drools after my daughter and doesn’t do his job properly. Where is Hucakbee?

- Huckabee was killed in New York, Mr Trump, don’t you remember, by that secretary that your daughter hired and you fired.

- Oh. We need to hire a new thug. Is there anyone available?

- Well, Lindsay Graham has been calling again

- No I’m not taking that idiot. Is there anyone else?

- There is Dr Ben Carson

- Yeah, I like Ben, he could be a good addition

- But Mr Trump, Dr Ben Carson is a bla..

- He is what, Chrischristie?

- He is a bla

- What is he? Black? Don’t you know Chrischristie that blacks make the best racists. When I was given the tour of Pik Botha’s prisons in South Africa, back in the good old days before they gave the blacks their right to vote, the most savage racists were the black guards. No Ben Carson is a good choice. Besides, I could use a good Egyptologist on the staff, you never know when you need more factual deep insights about the pyramids. Bring him to a meeting with me.

- Oh, Mr Trump, could I conduct the job interview, please? I’ve been reading the Art of the Deal. I know I could do it, may I please. I can't wait to practice my new skills. Please, Boss, can I lead the negotiating team?

- Don't be stupid. We won't negotiate with Carson. That book is for suckers. Listen to me, the first thing you want to do is to intimidate him. If that doesn't work, then you apply brute force. If that doesn't work either, which, by the way, means that you are a total loser, then you negotiate.

- Should I schedule Carson for an audience?

- Yes, and when Carson arrives, make sure David Duke is here and the cross is ready in front of the building. So time his arrival for sunset. Then set the cross on fire just as he arrives.

- Yes boss.

- And have General Geoffrey D Miller ready in case we need him. He did such a good job with Abu Ghraib prison and Guantanamo.

- I will, thank you boss, I won’t let you down.

- Don’t let Ben fool you with that sleepy-eyes bit. He’s really sharp, he only pretend to be alseep and a moron. He’s not half as smart as he pretends to be.

- Mr Trump, being half as smart..

- Are you going to lecture me again about math? I am really smart. I am so smart. I went to one of the best schools. Wharton. And I know math. I know numbers. I’m one of the numberiest people you’ll ever meet. The professor of numbers, he came to see me every day at Wharton. I have so many numbers it would make your head spin. Now, go arrange the meeting with Carson. Send him a box of my hair. Have Santorum deliver it, thats about as difficult as Santorum can handle.

- Yes Mr Trump.

Scene 23 - New York, British Consulate

- 007, that was government property. That is an expensive shirt with the carbon fiber threads.

- Listen, Q, I had to rip that shirt to construct that pole to climb the fence. Why don’t you give me a foldable giant ladder inside the Omega watch next time?

- And where is the Omega?

- Trump’s thugs took it in Las Vegas

- You know I have to fill out paperwork and explain where it all went. Someone is going to say you were gambling in Vegas and pawned Her Majesty’s Government property, 007

- Look, I brought you the hair sample you wanted. I went over the Trump Wall, I found Trumpsylvania. I brought pictures of the satellite lasers. What else do you want from me, I am only one man.

- Yes, yes 007, now. We need you to go back

- Back to Vegas?

- Yes, 007, whats wrong? You’re not getting enough frequent flier miles this mission or what? Did some beautiful blonde reject you on the return flight?

Bond gave Q a knowing smile remembering Tammy O’Honey.

- No, just that if the mission was going to continue in Vegas, why did I have to fly back here to New York? Why didn’t you fly to Vegas.

- I am not authorized to fly that far, its the government savings regulations. Only double-Oh agents are allowed to fly more than 8 hours one-way on one day. So this is as far as I can come.

- Crazy government bureaucrats

- Yeah I agree 007.

- So what else do we have?

- I have some pictures of Trump and we need to see if you’ve seen any of the other people he has been seen with, among the people you saw at the Trump locations.

James Bond started to look through a stack of pictures. Dick Cheney, Mitt Romney, Donald Rumsfeld.. hey, he WAS the car rental guy. Wow. Has his career taken a fall since he was Secretary of Defence. And Bond kept rifling through the pictures until he stopped.

- That man. Bond pointed to a picture of Trump with a heavy set man. He's the one called Chrischriste

- Ah, good, yes. We've seen him before. He's a second rate thug out of New Jersey. Lets see...

The bureaucrat rifled through his files, found what he was looking for and continued

- Chrischristie aka Reginald Balderdash. He was previously on Bruce Springsteen's band roadie crew but fired for eating too many of the cookies. He joined the Trump organization where he is now head of security.

Bond kept looking through pictures, Trump with McCain, Trump with Chuck Shumer, Trump with John Boehner. Trump with the Bush family.

- Tammy!

- What is that, 007

- Its Tammy

- What Tammy, who is Tammy?

- She’s a secret service agent! Tammy O’Honey, this woman here just beside the President, thats Tammy. I met her on the plane coming over from Vegas and she claimed to be a pet store owner.

- Are you sure

- If you saw her legs, you’d be sure too Q. Let me see other pictures of Trump with President Bush. Here, here she is again. Thats definitely Tammy O’Honey. That explains why she was suddenly defensive about her cover story. And why she asked about White House Down the movie plot. So she’s a secret service agent. She’s on the President’s personal bodyguard detail. Was President Obama in Vegas in the past days?

- The Military attache to the British Consulate looked through some papers. Yes, the President and Mrs Obama attended a private fund-raiser just outside Las Vegas yesterday.

- And is the President scheduled to come to New York City?

- We do not get advance agenda on his travel unless he comes to visit our Embassy or one of our consulates, sorry Commander Bond.

- Could you find out. I’m sure he is coming. Thats why Tammy wasn’t flying to DC, she is part of the advance team for this trip. It could be what Trump was referring to when he spoke to Chrischristie about the King playing the game of War in Vegas. Maybe Trump is planning something relating to the President’s visit.


Scene 24 - Trump International, Ground Floor, Recruiting office. Job interview

Chrischristie could hear through the door as he was approaching the room "Confess! Confess! Confess you're a democrat! Confess!". Chrischristie stepped into the room

- Trey! What are you doing? I do apologise Dr Carson, I am Chrischristie, the head of Mr Trump's security. There was a little misunderstanding here. Mr Trey Gowdy may have taken his duties a little bit too, ahem, diligently. And I stress the point of 'may' and that the Trump organization is not in any way liable for any criminal wrongdoing here. This has all been an honest mistake. Please let me help untie you Dr Carson. 

Dr Ben Carson was bound and gagged. Chrischristie started to untie Dr Carson.

- I take full responsibility for this. Mr Gowdy here, he is new to our organization, and to be brutally honest, he's not that smart. Now, Trey, we don't bind and gag and torture people we interview for jobs. Only if they don't accept, do we start to torture them. Now, Dr Carson, I hope you are not horribly inconvenienced. Why, you're bleeding. Are you missing a finger? Trey, did you chop off one of Dr Carson's fingers? Dr Carson, I am so sorry. Let me see, its probably here on the floor, yes, here it is. Don't you worry about that Dr Carson, it happens all the time. I'm sure we can stitch that right back in. Did that hurt?

- Well, yes, a little.

- I'm so sorry. Its not our policy to chop off fingers at the job interview. Did Trey at least give you a sedative or any painkillers?

- No, no he didn't.

- I am so sorry. Trey! Get Dr Carson some painkillers now, and then go and not torture Santorum.

- Why are you not torturing.. 

- Oh, its standard how we punish Santorum. Santorum let one of our prisoners escape last night so he has to be punished. He's a masochist so we torture Santorum by not giving him pain, denying it. We learned it from the husband of Michelle Bachmann. He has a clinic for curing the gays.

- Gays can't be cured, its a biological condition

- Oh, we know that of course but Michelle Bachmann and her husband don't know it. So their clinic is a kind of test lab for Mr Trump to develop new types of torture. Very convenient. Gays make good test subjects, especially any Christian gays, they are so full of guilt.

Chrischristie's phone started to ring. It played the theme to Sex and the City.

- Excuse me, Dr Carson, I have to take this phone call. Yes Lindsay hold on. Mr Carson, here is Mr Trump's favorite book, you can read it while I take care of this phone call. Yes Lindsay, what is it?

Dr Carson read the title of the book he was handed 'Translated Speeches of Adolf Hitler'. He set it aside, he had read that one already, Dr Carson preferred Hitler's more in-depth volume 'Mein Kampf' which Carson had read in the original German. Chrischristie listened to the phone then replied

- Look, LIndsay, I've told Mr Trump all that. He does not have an opening right now. We know how much you'd like to work here. Whats that? Oh, yes, that fruit cake did arrive yes. I did give it to Mr Trump. Oh, you baked it yourself? Are you sure Mr Graham that you are not gay? You might want to go check into the clinic run by Michelle Bachmann's husband and have yourself checked up. Mr Trump would not want to hire the gays, and if you're baking cakes, you might not know it, but you mgiht actually be gay. I'm just saying, for your own mental sanity, you should go have yourself checked. It might be just a gay bug, there's a lot of that going around after the Supreme Court decision. Do you have their number? Oh, good. Call us after you've been checked by them.

Chrischristie ended the call and returned to talk to Dr Carson

- He's such a tedious man, he wants desperately to work here for Mr Trump but we do have our standards. You'll find plenty of psycopaths here and loonies but we don't stoop that low to hire him. Now, have you stopped bleeding? Good, lets go see if we can get that finger re-attached, then we'll do some paperwork and I have some questions for you. Did you enjoy the burning cross?



Scene 25 - New York, British Consulate

James Bond was handed his new trick Omega Seamaster. As he was dressing on his new reinforced shirt, a message arrived from London.

- Commander Bond, this is for you.

- Is it secret, can you read it for me?

- To Commander Bond, British Consulate, New York. DNA sample matches subject hair with Auric Goldfinger as father, Rosa Klebb as mother. Birthplace found in Switzerland where Klebb had indicated Mr Fritz Drumpf as the father. All traces of Donald Duck Drumpf end when he was 5 years old. Also note the two had a later daughter, named Daisy Duck Drumpf. She was also sent to the USA but her tracks ended in Alaska. Message ends.

- Goldfinger

- What was that, Commander Bond? You know the family?

- Well, I had an altercation with his father, Auric Goldfinger back in the 1960s when I was early into my career. Nasty fellow and ruthless. Obsessed with his wealth and tried to gain a monopoly on the world's gold supply by detonating a nuclear weapon at Fort Knox to make most of the gold in the world radioactive, and Goldfinger would have become the richest man on the planet. So Donald Trump is the illegitimate son of Goldfinger. That explains the obsession with his wealth, desiring to seem richer than he is; and the ugly head with the hair. And Rosa, eh?

- You know the mother too, Commander Bond?

- Yeah well, its pretty in-bred the SPECTRE crime syndicate. Rosa Klebb was a junior prostitute in the ranks of the organization before she slept her way to near the top. She probably had a bunch of bastard children who now are in positions of crime world power. If you traced the blood lineage of Ted Cruz or Mitt Romney or Dick Cheney or Vladimir Putin, probably all of their bloodlines mixed with Rosa Klebb at some point one or two generations back.

- What happened to her?

- I killed her in Venice in 1963. She had a knife hidden in her shoe and she was hopping around trying to kick me with it. The old hag was dressed up as a hotel cleaning lady. She was old and frail by then, back when she was young she was known to be quite strong and fierce fighter, so many older double-oh agents told me. I remember though, now that I recall, that she had very small hands with short stubby fingers. Thats where Donald Trump gets his short fingers from, no doubt.

- You know what they say about men with small hands, Commander Bond

- Haha yes, well, I'd expect a man with a inferiority complex about that size, might want to inflate all reputation about his other assets.

- Commander Bond, we just heard from our American cousins

- Yes, what did they say?

- First they kind of acknowledged your guess about the President. They said they cannot deny any speculation that the President might be coming to New York City in three days. Good call, Commander.

Her Majesty's Secret Service agent 007 smiled to himself. He would get to meet Tammy O'Honey again, and this time Bond know who and what she was.

- What else did they say?

- Oh, I'm sorry to inform you that the CIA cannot help you with the mission to Trumpsylvania. They are not allowed to operate inside the borders of the USA. And the Trump Fence legally defines the border to be the outer edge of the fence. Meanwhile the FBI cannot assist you either.

- Why is that?

- The Trump Fence also defines the internal border of the USA, by local law. So the US border ends on the internal edge of the fence. Where the fence splits, the space inside is now legally a no-man's land. Your friend Felix Leiter at the CIA says, they will have men waiting on the Mexican side if you bring the thugs out from Trumpsylvania, and the FBI will be waiting on the inside of the border if you bring the criminals back to Nevada.

Bond knew he would have to complete this mission the hard way. But as this was Godlfinger's son, Rosa Klebb's son, 007 would have it no other way.


Scene 26 - Las Vegas Airport, Rent-A-Wreck Counter

James Bond was headed back to the Rent-A-Wreck counter hoping he would not have to talk to Rumsfeld again. He saw instead a cheerful skinny black lady who greeted him

- Howdy, welcome to Rent a Wreck

- My name is Bowman, James Bowman of Universal Exports. I have a car rental with you

- Sure thing, honey. Let me check my computer... yes, I see. Oh. You booked our cheapest car, the Ford Ka. I have it ready, parked in the back. Could I interest you in a free one year trial membership to the NRA?

- Would you have an Aston Martin?

- But you booked and prepaid for the Ford Ka, if you wanted another car, it would be extra.

- I know, but do you have an Aston Martin?

- No, Sir, but I have a nice Dodge Viper, its a much faster car in a straight line. I can give it to you..

- But last time I rented an Aston Martin from you

- You only have booked a Ford Ka

- I know, I'm willing to pay for the upgrade, do you have an Aston Martin?

- No, no we don't rent foreign cars here at Rent-a-Wreck. I have a Chevrolet Corvette, very nice and much faster in a straight line

- What about that gunmetal Gray Aston Martin DBS you have right there, parked in the yard

- Oh, that Aston Martin. Its broken

- Whats wrong with it, I drove it yesterday

- Oh, our manager, or actually the ex-manager, he tried to park the car and broke its transmission. Its now stuck in reverse. It has one of those fancy flappy paddle gear shits that nobody can operate

- I have one of those cars at home, mind if I try. I know its a bit difficult but I think I can get it into gear

- I have to charge you for an upgrade

- Thats ok

- And I have to charge you for the premium car insurance too

- Thats ok, I'll take it.

- Hey, Mr Bowman, I get off work in an hour, if you want, I can be your tour guide to Las Vegas.

Bond gave the slender well-built black lady a broad knowing smiile, then responded

- I'm a bit busy today but I might come and look you up, I know where you work, ah, miss...

- Condi. My name is Condi Rice

- Its not Condi for Condoleeza?

- Sure is, honey, how come? Have you heard of me?

- You're not the same Condi Rice who was the Secretary of State?

- Thats me. Same girl who slept with John Major, Gordon Brown, Boris Yeltsin, Shinzo Abe and Nicolas Sarkozi. Thats me, your global jetsetting sexbomb.

- Wow yes. And you're still stunning. What gets a hot babe like you to work here at this dump, sorry, this beautiful fake wood counter of Rent a Wreck in Las Vegas

- Ah, well after that socialist terrorist Kenyan became President, he kind of fired most of us experts from the Bush administration. But the nice folks of Rent a Wreck are friends of the Bush family so they hired most of us. My pal Donald Rumsfeld was here given the job at managing this office. I was given the assistant manager's position, being a woman. Paul Wolfowicz runs the downtown Rent a Wreck office and John Bolton is somewhere a janitor here too, I think. Its a big family of the former Bush administration here. And they pay pretty well, almost minimum wage. There's no health benefits of course

- Of course

- and they only let us clock in 29 hours and 58 minutes of work any week, to be sure we don't accidentially count as full-time staff. In reality then we have to work through our two-hour lunch breaks so we actually work 42 hours every week but its ok, when the next Republican is voted into office, we'll all get good jobs again and the Democrats will be out of work. Its the ying and yang of life. Talking of ying and yang, would you want to go do a bit of yinging and yanging in the back room before you drive off in that Aston. I can close this desk, nobody is coming to rent a car for the next hour or so until the next flight lands

- No, thanks Condi, I will take a rain check 







[ Here is opening for you our reader to contribute if you want to help write this story. I will be skipping ahead because of other ideas that already have come in from our contributors. Feel free to add here or to later points. Leave your contributions into the comments thread. Many important plotlines need development like the DNA evidence of Trump's hair, and the space laser plot mystery. I am jumping to the end of the movie now, the climax will be - of course - at the villain's lair, Trump Tower in New York)

Scene 35 - Trump Tower Roof in New York City

Trump is on the roof of his Trump Tower and the tower is ablaze. Trump realizes that he's lost his iPhone so he can't call the helicopter. The platform is burning. Out of nowhere appears former Nokia CEO Stephen Elop who hands him a Microsoft Lumia phone.

- oh no, you're a Canadian!

- Yes

- I hate Canadians.

- Do you want to call your helicopter or not?

- Ok give me the phone!

Trump tries to call but the phone freezes. He must reboot it. At last he can make the call. His personal helicopter appears after a few minutes and picks him up. He yells at the pilot:

-Faster, you idiot!

The pilot turns his head toward Trump so that Trump can see his face.

-The name is Bond, James Bond.

The James Bond theme plays

Scene 36 - The Prison

Trump is at the barber's shop inside the prison.

- I beg of you, please, stop! This is no ordinary hair. This is a brand. It's worth 3.3 biillion dollars, for Christ's sake!

The barber doesn’t budge. After the hair is gone Trump is taken to his cell. His inmate number is written in golden digits on the back of his outfit.

As Trump enters the cell the door is locked behind him. His roommates watch him with interest. Trump is thinking: These losers will immediately submit to my leadership.

- Listen guys, I am the most famous man in the world. You don’t recognize me because I have a new haircut. My name is Donald Trump. I've lost my golden fleece but I still have great words, the best words in the world. I will make Alcatraz great again. You should be grateful for having me here...

One of the roommates smiles and rudely interrupts him:

- Oh, you have no idea how glad we are. Make no mistake, the fact that you and I are in the same cell is not a coincidence. My name is Joaquin Guzman. Friends call me El Chapo. Welcome to our little room. These are my associates Alfredo Vasquez-Hernandez and Margarito and Pedro Flores and they will make sure you will grasp the full meaning of the word "rapist".

The movie ends with the mariarchi classic Cielito Lindo as the credits start descending, then as the screen fades to black the 007 movie theme is mixed back in, with Rihanna's haunting a cappela rendition of The Man with the Golden Hair. 

JAMES BOND WILL RETURN IN
007 YOU ONLY CRUZ TWICE

[now its your turn.. help us lets write this story further. Post your next steps to the story - remember 007 movie cliche elements - and throw in as many political references as possible. And all possible humor is greatly appreciated, making fun of the politics and Trump in particular. I'll pick my fave items and add to the above, and of course credit you if you get in, and I may add more myself. But lets crowd-source this story. Perfect mission for 007 to stop Trump from stealing the US Presidency, eh? Write your submissions into the comments - or just comment if you want - and any ideas if you want - and we'll expand the story.]

[also - if you have any idea, let us know quickly what the idea is, so we can kind of incorporate it in the story. Let us ALSO know when you have the idea, if you want to develop it a bit more, like adding dialogue and narrative. We'll let you do that of course, but if you don't want to do that, we'll just use the idea and stick it in and move on. SEPARATELY on any part thats already IN the story - feel free to ADD AND EMBELLISH the story. Any jokes are welcome, any political references are even MORE welcome. Any possible Trump links we have missed, anything Trump, let us know. So you can re-edit the text as it already exists and just say for example 'in Scene 6, how about saying...' and write your version of how to make this even more the epic Bond parody Trump parody US election parody manuscript. Who knows, someone may even produce our film haha. So don't think its set in stone when it appears in text in the blog, you can still offer further improvements and changes]

Comments

[cornelius]

At some point during the movie Trump's real name is revealed: Auric Goldfinger. And the actor should definitely be Mike Myers.

[Tomi T Ahonen]

Hi cornelius

Gosh yeah.. or better, Trump is the illegitimate SON of Auric. And had to take the hooker mom's name Drumpf.. changed it to Trump. Its where Trump gets his addiction to gold (from dad) but like Trump, his gold is not solid, only gold-color paint... :-)

Tomi Ahonen :-)

[cornelius]

@Tomi
Absolutely. Feel free to change my stuff any way you see fit. Also feel free to remove my comments as you integrate them (or not) in the main text. I think it is better if you don't give me credit in the middle of the main text. Maybe at the end, just like you did for Catriona.
For the story, we need a critical moment, something like Bond is recognized by Christie and is taken prisoner. And then Bond escapes at the end and manages to warn the US authorities about Trump's plan (sends a message from Trump's lair or something like that, figures an easy password like "gold" or "rich"). And Trump ends in prison with Mexican roommates.
Sorry, I don't have any more time to develop the text, I have to go to the bridge club. My partner is waiting for me :-) I'll check the story when I come back.

[cornelius]

How about Bond finds out that Trump is Goldfinger's son and reveals his identity to the US authorities (full story with Drumpf), along with his cunning plan (as in Black Adder).

[cornelius]

The prison gang could be El Chapo and the Tijuana cartel, just an idea.

[Tomi T Ahonen]

cornelius

(I thought you had left to go play bridge?)

great great great !!!! the medican gang absolutely fab. The ending - brilliant. We'll do the goldfinger's son via DNA testing of his hair and obviously Bond's reaction.. I'm already on it

The Real James Bond :-)

[remaerdyaD]

Trump hotels et al are used to finance a "TrumpX" space travel business - all a front to establish space-based weapons!

[cornelius]

I am at the club but I can't help it. :-)
How Trump is taken in custody by NYPD:
Trump is on the roof of his Trump tower and the tower is ablaze. It's a burning platform. Out of nowhere appears Elop and hands him a Lumia. Trump is confused:
-What am I supposed to do with it?
-Why? Of course you should dial 911. Smart, eh?
Trump dials and the police helicopter pick him up.

[cornelius]

Also how about the Argonauts and the golden wool? That would be an organization fit for Trump's hair

[cornelius]

I meant golden fleece

[Tomi T Ahonen]

hi remaerdyaD, Jefff, cornelius

(sorry I had to run and eat, took my PC with me and filled in more)

Welcome to the story. Great ideas. Am adding (and Jefff - correcting) as you are giving inputs. Brilliant. Note story has 2 new scenes already added. I will go make some minor changes to the existing storyline too. Keep the ideas coming

If anyone wants to take any story-writing like cornelius, with dialogue and/or narrative, tell me what you are working on and I'll leave that part alone so you can do your part. Its also fun for me when I have no idea how you twist 'our story' haha. The more the merrier. But I will continue to flush out and add to the story to get also to your brilliant major cunning plan idea for the whole story, remaerdyaD. Thanks!

cornelius - I get it... and I can't wait for you to come and do more when you can. Its really cool to see HOW you take the story next. The boardroom was brilliant with Apprentice reference !!!!

Tomi :-)

[Tomi T Ahonen]

Note everybody

I am going to take cornelius's great idea, I'm deleting those comments that are already in the plot. Those that are not written in yet, will remain here so others can see what is being developed (or considered, or rejected haha).

IF for any reason your name is not in after your comment was incorporated, just remind me. I of course want everybody properly credited.

Tomi Ahonen :-)

[cornelius]

This is right at the end of the story.
Bond wakes up in the middle of the night in a bed with the hands and the feet tied to the bed. Luckily he still has the pin taped on his pinkie. The tape has the exact color of his skin, so it went undetected. He retrieves the pin and to his surprise, manages to unlock the handcuffs. Just out of curiosity he checks the handcuffs. Of course, made in China. The door is locked and this time he's out of luck. The pin is just too small for this lock. He hear a faint noise in the next room. He jumps in the bed and pretends he is asleep. The door opens. Ivanka is wearing an all latex outfit and she's caring a whip. She came to torture Bond. It's a secret Trump family tradition, passed from parents to children.
As she cracks the whip, Bond takes hold of the whip and easily overpowers her. He handcuffs her. Through the window he can clearly see he is still in Las Vegas. This must be Trump's penthouse. In the next room on a desk there is a laptop. The user name is trumpty. Bond without hesitation types the password: dumpty. Bingo!

[cornelius]

Bond sets the hidden files visible. And there it is. A folder named Super-Secret looks promising. He couldn't be more wrong. The folder is full of KKK movies. Nothing new here. It is well known that he Grunt Lizard of the KKK, David Puke, is a longtime friend of Trump's.

[cornelius]

Thanks :-)
I actually coined a new expression: "to donald it" or "to play the donald" meaning to ruff

[cornelius]

This is after Trump's plans are revealed to the FBI and Trump is on the run.
He manages to set the Trump hotel on fire so he can cach in the insurance.
Trump is on the roof of his Trump tower and the tower is ablaze. Trump realizes that he's lost his iPhone so he can't call the helicopter. The platform is burning. Out of nowhere appears Elop and hands him a Lumia. Trump tries to call but the operating system freezes. He must reboot it. At last he can place the call. His personal helicopter picks him up. He yells at the pilot:
Faster, you idiot!
The pilot turns his head so that Trump can see his face.
The name is Bond, James Bond.

[cornelius]

I meant cash in the insurance.

[Tomi T Ahonen]

lol good one :-) both of my parents were very avid bridge players. Briefly as a team they were nationally ranked in Finland. I was always supposed to learn the game 'the next summer' at our summer cottage as both thought I was naturally suited for it (math and a good memory I guess helps) but I managed always to get out of the lessons and have forgotten everything they tried to teach me haha

So bridge the game. Chrischristie also has his bridge. They Trump and noTrump in the game. And we write about Trump. Do you want to write the first ever dramatic scene in an 007 movie of a Bridge duel between Trump and Bond. With further confusion of course with his name and the bidding? Trump teams with wife Melania, Ivanka ordered by dad to play with 'guest' Bond... Don't call me shirley.

Tomi :-)

[cornelius]

It's so much fun, but it's almost 1:00 AM here and I have to wake up at 7:00 AM to go to work. I'll just sketch the final scene and go to bed.
Trump is at the barber's shop inside the prison. He's begging in vain the hair stylist to spare his golden fleece. After the hair is gone Trump is taken to his cell. His inmate number is written in golden digits on the back of his outfit.
As Trump enters the cell the door is locked behind him. His roommates watch him with interest. Trump is thinking: These losers will immediately submit to my leadership.
Listen guys, my name is Donald Trump. I've lost my golden fleece but I still have great words, the best words in the world...
One of the roommates smiles and rudely interrupts him:
My name is Joaquin Guzman a.k.a. El Chapo. Welcome to our little room. These are my lieutenants Alfredo Vasquez-Hernandez and Margarito and Pedro Flores.

[cornelius]

One more thing. The movie ends with Cielito Lindo as the credits start descending.