INT. TRUMP TOWER – GOLD ROOM – NIGHT
Donald Trump is perched on a gold-trimmed throne-like chair, sipping Diet Coke. Across from him, PATRICK BATEMAN, in a bone-white Valentino suit, glares into the Manhattan skyline, his jaw tight.
BATEMAN
You know what I hate, Donald?
Christmas. Or at least… beta Christmas.
TRUMP
(laughs)
You mean the shopping, the wrapping, the—what do the libs say?—late-stage capitalism?
BATEMAN
No. I mean civilian Christmas. The plastic Target trees. The TikTok ornaments. The virtue signals disguised as gifts. I mean Christmas without Prometheus.
TRUMP
Now you’re talking my language. Say more.
BATEMAN
I want Alpha Christmas. Rockefeller-style. Fire from the gods, stolen and repackaged as neon. The towering tree stabbed into the Earth like a monolith. I want to drink bourbon with Prometheus while Atlas cracks a grin.
TRUMP
That’s what the Rockefellers had. That’s legacy. That’s real estate… eternal. My tree’s bigger than their tree though. Believe me.
BATEMAN
But even that’s just a tree compared to the Saturnalia parties I’m not invited to.
You ever been to the Rothschild estate during the solstice, Donald?
TRUMP
(leans in)
No… But Melania got a weird invite once. Said something about owl masks and a man named Baphomet.
BATEMAN
Exactly. That’s the party. Everyone who’s anything is there. The Lucifers, the Nephilim, the lords of leverage. They call it “Saturnalia” but it’s more like a harvest of souls wrapped in couture.
Bateman paces, increasingly unhinged.
BATEMAN (CONT’D)
You know what I got last year? A wool sweater. From my stepmother. While the Rothschilds dance with Kali under black chandeliers. It’s humiliating.
TRUMP
I’ll make some calls. Maybe we do our own Saturnalia. Trumpalia. Golden calves. All-you-can-eat McDonald’s buffet. Elon DJing.
BATEMAN
(deep breath)
It’s not the same. They don’t let us in because we’re new money. Flashy. Dangerous. You… orange. Me… psychotic. They prefer quiet monsters. Smiling demons. The kind who own the debt of nations.
TRUMP
Well then… we’ll buy Saturn. Rename it. Lease it back to them.
BATEMAN
(half-laughing)
Merry Christmas, Donald.
TRUMP
Happy Saturnalia, Patrick.
They raise their glasses to a future covered in gold leaf, staring into the eternal winter night like titans barred from Olympus.
FADE TO BLACK.
Well, we have to end apartheid for one. And slow down the nuclear arms race, stop terrorism and world hunger. We have to provide food and shelter for the homeless, and oppose racial discrimination and promote civil rights, while also promoting equal rights for women. We have to encourage a return to traditional moral values. Most importantly, we have to promote general social concern and less materialism in young people.