Lights up on SCOTT WALKER, TED CRUZ, RAND PAUL, MARCO RUBIO, and JEB BUSH huddled under one side of a large proscenium. They are auditioning for the role of Republican Jesus Christ Superstar. CHARLES and DAVID KOCH, who plan to spend $889 million on this election, approach the lectern. The crowd falls silent as the Koch brothers proceed to unzip their people suits and fuse into a two-headed jar of marshmallow fluff, their natural form.
Koch Bros: Good evening and welcome to this secretive billionaire summit. We all know why we're here: to witness five free-market gladiators battling it out for a chance to win a fraction of our inherited wealth. How about wealth, huh?
The crowd goes wild.
Koch Bros: First up will be Señor Rubio from Florida.
The Koch brothers take a seat on a throne made of Doritos.
Marco Rubio: It's Senator Rubio. Not Señor.
Koch Bros: You staying hydrated, RubeTube?
Marco Rubio: Damn it, guys. Stop.
Koch Bros: An elephant never forgets. (*wink*)
Marco Rubio: (to himself) I… I can’t do this. Not for these people.
Koch Bros: TALK. TALK NOW AND TALK PRETTY.
Marco Rubio: Fine. No one knows how old the earth is. I crave—yes, crave—to drink the actual blood and eat the actual flesh of Christ. Aaaaaaaand I think people should be able to bring their guns to work.
The crowd goes wild.
Koch Bros: Can you hear that?! Can you hear that?! That’s the sweet, sweet sound of our approval ratings doubling among Hispanics.
Marco Rubio takes a seat next to the Dorito throne.
Koch Bros: Up next, we have—
Rand Paul walks out wearing an Iron Man suit. He holds one fist in the air. Rocket fire shoots from his heels, and he blasts off into the sky and explodes. Then he crash-lands back onto the stage.
Rand Paul: If you elect me as president, I promise to abolish the Department of Education.
The crowd goes wild. The Koch bros give a standing ovation, spewing bits of white fluff all over the stage.
Rand Paul: Thank you.
Koch Bros: I don’t know how anyone’s going to top—
Ted Cruz drives a monster truck onto the stage. He kicks open the driver's side door, parachutes from the cab, and braces himself against the lectern.
Koch Bros: CRUZY BABY!!
Ted Cruz: Thank you, brothers. The first thing I’m gonna do as president is drive this son of a biscuit right on up to the border of ISIS, smash down their gates, mash each and every one of ‘em up into gun juice, and then slip 'em inside my taste-hole.
Koch Bros: Love it. WE LOVE IT. What’s the second thing you’ll do?
Ted Cruz: The same thing. But again. And harder.
Cruz takes a seat next to Paul and Rubio. Meanwhile, a low-level functionary wheels out Wisconsin governor Scott Walker on a dolly, and places him by the lectern. Walker stares silently at the crowd. Several minutes pass, and the Kochs begin to look worried.
Koch Bros: What’s going on? Why isn’t he speaking?
A page enters and whispers something to the brothers.
Koch Bros: Oooooh.
The Koch bros waddle up to Walker, open up his mouth, and pour a bag of gold coins into it. Walker whirrs up and sparks begin to issue from his body.
Scott Walker: Good evening, Job Creators! Our party needs a man who was nearly recalled after thousands of protesters stormed his own office. A man who will look into the eyes of an adult making $7.25 per hour and say, “Go fuck yourself with a sex toy you can’t afford.” A man who will snatch a food-stamp steak from the mouth of a teenager and plop it down on the golden plates of millionaires, because that's where steak belongs. That man, ladies and gentleman, is me.
Black tears fall from the Koch brothers’ eyes.
Koch Bros: He’s a dream. He’s a living dream. Scott the water-Walker. The King. Come sit on Papa’s lap, Scottie.
Scott Walker approaches the brothers and, like a cat preparing a place to sleep, paws an indentation into the Koch brothers' goopy mallow-flesh and rests quietly, while Jeb Bush takes the stage.
Koch Bros: Bush III! Bush III!
Jeb Bush: Roses are red./Violets are Blue./You voted for my dad and my brother./You’ll vote for me, too.
The crowd goes wild.
Jeb Bush: Thank you.
Crowd Member 1: Oof, that hit me right in the pacemaker.
Crowd Member 2: The whole family’s so talented. It’s unfair.
Koch Bros: All right, all right. THAT’S ENOUGH. You boys talked so pretty we just can’t decide who to choose. This calls for a second round of auditions in a more private venue…
The Koch brothers open a door onstage, revealing a velvet room filled with exotic animal pelts and stripper poles.
Koch Bros: You boys stretch out them jaws and line up against the wall.
The Republican presidential nominees walk single file into the pulsing pink and purple lights of the Jaguar Room.
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