Title: "Trump vs. CAPTCHA: The Ultimate Test"
Scene opens in a lavishly decorated room, filled with gold accents and a giant screen displaying a CAPTCHA prompt. Donald Trump, wearing his signature suit and red tie, is sitting at a desk with his phone, frowning. The room is silent except for the occasional ringing of a distant phone. Trump squints at the screen.
Trump (grumbling to himself):
This is ridiculous. Totally ridiculous. I’ve seen tests before, but this? No one has ever faced a CAPTCHA this tough. Believe me.
He taps the phone screen aggressively, the CAPTCHA asking him to "Select all images with traffic lights."
Trump (muttering):
Okay, I can do this. Traffic lights, I know traffic lights. I’ve dealt with traffic. Big traffic. Nobody knows more about traffic than me.
He taps on a random image—an image of a street sign instead of a traffic light. The CAPTCHA shakes its head in disapproval.
Trump (scowling):
What is this, a trap? This is rigged. Nobody knows more about roads than I do. I've built the best roads. The best. No one builds roads like me.
Another CAPTCHA appears: "Select all images with crosswalks." Trump stares at the images, his finger hovering over the screen.
Trump (muttering, confused):
Crosswalks? What kind of question is that? I’ve crossed streets. Big streets. The best streets. These streets are YUGE. They’re practically crosswalks themselves!
He slams his finger down on an image of a parking meter.
Trump (angrily):
That’s a crosswalk! It’s a crosswalk! You’re just trying to stop me from winning. I’m winning this CAPTCHA. I always win.
The CAPTCHA flashes red, denying his selection. The screen shows "Try again." Trump’s face turns red.
Trump (yelling at the phone):
What is this? A conspiracy? I’m not a loser. I don’t lose! This is the most rigged CAPTCHA ever! Believe me, I’ve dealt with fake news, and now this!
The CAPTCHA screen changes again, this time asking him to "Select all images with bicycles."
Trump (confused):
Bicycles? Bicycles don’t belong on roads. I built highways for cars. Huge highways! You can’t even find a bicycle on these roads. These roads are great, the best. Bicycles... not even close.
He taps on a picture of a sports car instead.
Trump (smirking):
See? I got it. Big brain, folks. You see that? That’s what happens when you know the best.
The CAPTCHA flashes red again, asking him to "Select all images with bicycles" one more time.
Trump (snapping):
I’ll tell you what. This CAPTCHA’s broken. It’s got a vendetta against me. You know who’s behind this? The Democrats. They’re all part of it. They don’t want me to succeed. They hate my success. I’m getting through this, and I’ll show everyone that this is totally unfair.
He taps furiously at the screen, selecting a random image of a dog.
Trump (defeated, muttering):
I don’t need this. I’m winning elsewhere. I don’t need to prove myself to a CAPTCHA.
He slams the phone down on the desk and storms out of the room, leaving the CAPTCHA screen blinking on the phone.
End scene.
