RFK (the) II Tries Out For Richard (the) III

A subtle parody

Synopsis:

Bobby, alone on the side of the road driving back to Manhattan after loading a bear carcass into his Cybertruck, reveals his intention to play the villain. He then pretends to console Donald, the first victim of this villainy. After Donald is led off toward the White House, Bobby greets Elon, who tells him that someone is very ill from an infectious disease. Bobby, once again alone onstage, outlines his plan to have Donald killed by preventable illness and to marry Lady Melania.

—

Act I, Scene I

Bobby:

Now is the administration of our discontent
 Made glorious summer by this son of New York Real Estate,
 And all the regulatory burdens that loured upon our agency,
 In the deep bottom of the grave, buried.
 Now are our Houses of Congress o’erflowing with victorious representatives,
 Our primary battles ceased, and our districts justly called,
 Our stern alarums about “voter fraud” turned to merry winnings,
 Our dreadful attack ads to smug tweets.

 Grim-messaged campaigns hath chilled the f- out;
 And now, instead of threatening election workers with a bloody revolution
 To fright the souls of LibTards,
 Donald Capers clumsily in Laura Loomer’s chamber,

 But I, who am well-shaped for sportive adventures thanks to my healthy diet,
 And made to drink raw milk from a cool glass;
 I, that am built, healthy, robust, and also sexually functional
 To strut before a wanton ambling nymph such as Melania;

 I, that am curtailed of his fair proportion of the wives of others,
 Cheated of affairs by regulatory limits on supplements to enhance my male nature,
 Unengorged, under aroused, sent before my tumescence
 Into this bedroom scarce half ready,
 And that so lamely and lacking prompt virility
 That ladies will ask, “Are you ready?” and “Maybe this is a bad time?” as I prepare for them —

 Why, I, in this weak piping time of GOP dominance,
 Have no delight to pass away the time,
 Unless to see my manly shadow in the sun
 And be impressed by my physique.
 And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover
 To entertain these fair, well-spoken days,
 I am determined to prove a villain,

and hate the regulations that might limit my consumption of supplements and medicines to enhance the idle pleasures of these days.
 

Plots have I laid, regulations dangerous,
 By drunken prophecies, libels, and appointments to agencies that I have no business running,

 To set my friend Donald and Elon
 In deadly hate, the one against the other;
 And if Elon be as Bold and Ambitious
 As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
 This day, should Donald be held up
 About an Infowars story, reposted on Breitbart and OAN, that says that “RFK”
 Of JFK’s heirs, the most important appointment, shall be.

 Dive, thoughts, down to my soul. Here Donald Comes!