Scene: A dimly lit, pretentious comedy club. The stage is set for a roast by Donald Trump. The audience is a mix of intellectuals, hipsters, and unintentional chaos. Front and centre, George Costanza is nervously seated with his parents, Frank and Estelle, who are already causing a scene.
George (under his breath):
"I can't believe I’m here. This is a nightmare. My parents… here…"
Frank Costanza (bellowing across the room to the stage):
"Hey! That guy’s a disaster! He’s a disaster with a small loan of a million dollars!"
Estelle Costanza (eyes bulging with disbelief):
"Frank! Frank! Shhh! You're embarrassing me! Stop it!"
Frank (yelling from his seat):
"He’s the human equivalent of a broken pencil! Pointless!"
George (increasingly red-faced):
"Mom! Dad! Can you please just be quiet for five minutes?!"
Frank (turning to George, unfazed):
"George, why are you so nervous? Just tell them the truth—he’s a train wreck. He’s the only guy who could bankrupt a casino!"
Estelle (nodding with authority):
"Yeah, and his hair! Oh my God, his hair! It's like a dead animal glued to his head!"
Frank (hooting):
"It’s a crime scene! It’s the only thing in this country that’s more dangerous than a rattlesnake!"
George (face buried in hands):
"Why am I here? Why did I bring you two?!"
Trump (grinning wildly at the crowd, holding the mic):
"Alright, alright, folks, let’s talk about George Costanza. This guy—he’s the king of failure. I mean, nobody does failure like George. Believe me. I know failure. But George? He has talent—for failing spectacularly."
Frank Costanza (yelling from the audience):
"That’s rich coming from you! You’ve got the biggest failure going—you’re just a walking disaster with a wig on top of it!"
Trump (mockingly):
"And then there’s his job history. A consultant—really? What does that even mean? A consultant at the nothing factory?"
Estelle Costanza (sighing in frustration):
"Frank, let him talk! Let him roast him properly!"
Frank (leaning over to Estelle, outraged):
"Properly?! This guy? He couldn’t roast a marshmallow if it was on fire! Look at him, he’s got the face of a man who thinks sweating counts as ‘exercise.’"
Trump (not missing a beat, turning towards George with a smirk):
"George, I hear you once worked for the Yankees. But let me guess—you were never the MVP. You were probably the guy who fetched the coffee while everyone else actually worked, am I right?"
Frank (interjecting loudly from the back):
"Who the hell do you think you are, huh? You ran a casino into the ground!"
Trump (feigning indignation, trying to salvage his roast):
"Hey, let’s get back to George. He’s a guy who—let’s be honest—his greatest accomplishment was becoming the least successful person to ever get a job at a company!"
Frank (losing it):
"Least successful?! Least successful? Who do you think you are, The Human Dumpster Fire? You couldn’t even manage a scooter company!"
Trump (trying to regain control, chuckling awkwardly):
"Hey, hey, don’t get too emotional, alright? This is just a roast! But seriously, George—what is it about you? How do you make it through life being this... uh... how can I say this..."
Frank (cutting in, loudly):
"A miserable excuse for a man?! He’s a walking disaster, an embarrassment to his own pants, and you’re talking about him like he’s the problem!"
Trump (with a half-smirk, now a little flustered):
"Alright, Frank, calm down. This isn’t about you. We’re talking about George. The man who never learned how to properly sit at a table without making it awkward for everyone else."
Frank (shouting, nearly standing up):
"Who’s this idiot to talk about sitting?! This guy has to stand in front of mirrors just to remind himself where he left his hair!"
Estelle Costanza (rolling her eyes, to Frank):
"Frank, please, for once, try to be calm—"
Frank (ignoring Estelle, turning to George):
"George, if I were you, I’d just leave! Let him roast himself—he’s an embarrassment! A global embarrassment!"
Trump (gritting his teeth):
"You know, George, for a guy who’s been fired from every job, I have to admit, you’ve really mastered the art of never being good at anything. It’s impressive, really."
Frank (throwing his hands in the air):
"Oh, for crying out loud! You’re talking about George like he’s the problem! You couldn’t even manage a poodle salon! Who needs you roasting anyone?" Go back to selling steak, you clown!"
George (covering his face with both hands):
"I can’t believe this is happening. This has to be a nightmare."
