INT. TRUMP TOWER – NIGHT
Gold reflects gold. Mirrors reflect nothing. Patrick Bateman stands before Donald J. Trump, who sits enthroned on a golden couch. A smirk dances on Bateman’s lips, barely hiding the mania in his eyes.
BATEMAN:
Donald… you’re the Chosen One.
TRUMP (tilting his head):
I’ve heard that before. People say that. A lot of people say that.
BATEMAN (intensely):
Not like this. Not from me. See, you don’t feed the people fish and bread. That’s passé. You give them fire. Precision drone strikes. Beautiful, spectacular violence. You turned the Sermon on the Mount into a State of the Union.
Trump smiles like a man hearing his favorite bedtime story.
BATEMAN (cont’d):
Your father’s name was Frederick Christ. Your mother, Mary. A Gaelic-speaking Celt. It’s too perfect. You’re the Anti-Christ or the Messiah, depending on whether you’re buying or selling.
TRUMP:
My father was a great man. Built homes. Taught me everything. I was an apprentice, just like Jesus… only I used better materials. Marble. Gold. Class.
BATEMAN (dreamy):
Exactly. Jesus built benches for fishermen. You built casinos and missile deals. He turned water into wine… you made Trump Vodka. He multiplied bread… you multiplied debt.
TRUMP (proudly):
And ratings.
BATEMAN:
Yes. You gave the world spectacle. When I watch the fireworks over the Middle East, I don’t feel horror. I feel… ecstasy. It’s like watching a Fourth of July orgy in the sky. Your wrath… is biblical.
TRUMP:
Fire and fury, baby. Like the world has never seen.
BATEMAN:
You’re the new Christ for the algorithm age. A Christ who monetizes miracles. Who tweets the Beatitudes in all caps.
TRUMP (nodding slowly):
BLESSED ARE THE RICH, FOR THEY SHALL OWN THE EARTH.
BATEMAN:
Yes. Yes! And the poor? Let them eat tariffs.
A long silence. Only the soft hum of power. Then:
TRUMP (reflectively):
I always thought I was special. Like maybe I was meant to fix things. But not with kindness. That’s weak. I fix it with deals.
BATEMAN:
You didn’t come to bring peace. You came to bring branding. And a sword.
TRUMP:
A Trump sword. Diamond-studded. Limited edition.
BATEMAN (grinning):
The Book of Donald. Chapter 1: “And lo, the kingdom of heaven shall be franchised.”
TRUMP:
Amen to that.
The two men smile at each other, disciples of power, bonded by ego, capitalism, and bloodless conquest. Somewhere, a drone hums in the distance, and a new commandment uploads to the cloud.
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.