INT. MAR-A-LAGO GARAGE – NIGHT
Chrome and gold everywhere. Spotless floors. A monstrous, custom Trump-brand GARBAGE TRUCK sits center-stage—polished, armored, and inexplicably patriotic. The words “TRUMP SANITATION – DRAIN THE SWAMP” gleam in gold leaf across the side.
Donald Trump, in a red hat and silk tie, leans against it with satisfaction. Patrick Bateman circles the truck slowly, inspecting it like a piece of art.
TRUMP
Beautiful, isn’t she? Best garbage truck in the world. Runs on diesel and raw American ambition. I call her “The Big Dumper.”
BATEMAN
(Smirking)
It’s very… Roman Empire meets Staten Island.
TRUMP
Exactly. See, nobody talks about the garbage men. But if they went on strike—boom. Black plague. Rats. Chaos. Civilization crumbles. It’s the trash that keeps the empire clean.
BATEMAN
(Thoughtful)
True. They hold the fabric together more than Congress ever has.
TRUMP
But here’s the real question, Patrick…
(Steps closer, lowering voice)
What if we went on strike?
BATEMAN
(Still circling)
Society loses its masks. The system collapses—but with better suits. No one to sell the dream. No one to project strength. No alpha signals. No cold stares in boardrooms. Just… weakness. Wet tofu handshakes.
TRUMP
The whole stock market would cry. Imagine the Dow without me tweeting. Without you chopping wood in thousand-dollar cufflinks. There’d be no noise, no edge. Just… Canada.
BATEMAN
(Smiles)
The world might actually get better.
TRUMP
(Laughs)
Maybe. But it would also get boring. Weak. Like eating tofu on a paper plate. I’m not retiring to a cave. You?
BATEMAN
No. I need to be seen. I need mirrors. I need competition. I need something to win.
TRUMP
Exactly. We’re the sharks, Patrick. If we stop swimming, the ocean turns into a YMCA pool party.
BATEMAN
(Grins)
So we keep going. For civilization.
TRUMP
For the optics.
BATEMAN
And the bloodlust.
TRUMP
And the brand.
They both turn to admire “The Big Dumper” again. A bald eagle screeches in the distance—or maybe it’s just a malfunctioning leaf blower.
FADE OUT.