[INT: The Reagan Presidential Library. It is a Monday night debate. A massive day of primaries looms tomorrow. This is our hero’s last chance to turn his fortunes around by securing a decisive win in Florida. But it’s not going well. MARCO RUBIO is bruised and battered (and sweaty, naturally), slowly getting to his feet after another devastating attack. He is down to his last 50 Primary Voters. Opposite him, his opponent stands. It is a tall man, of unusual complexion, haunted eyes, bizarrely disproportionate body parts, and utterly ludicrous hair dyed an impossible color. It is DONALD TRUMP. He still has all 4000 of his Primary Voters. (They’re symbolic, you see. More people than that are actually going to vote for him tomorrow.)

Oh, also, this is all happening atop the Library’s signature exhibit, Reagan’s AIR FORCE ONE, because why not.]

TRUMP: You’re finished, Rubi-boy! One more attack from my Blue-Eyes White People and you’re toast! And even if you could take it down, my Mexican Border Wall still protects my Primary Voters! It’s foolproof! Admit it, Rubi! You’re done for! Just give in and drop out already! I’m the best debater! Me!

[TRUMP throws his head back and laughs maniacally.]

RUBIO: [Internal monologue] He’s right! There’s no way I can beat him! Maybe I SHOULD just give up…

[RUBIO looks for encouragement to his only remaining SUPPORTERS: a FOCUS GROUP selected by CHARLES KOCH himself. They look forlorn and dismayed. Meanwhile, TRUMP’s fans crowd up the sides of Air Force One, cheering on their champion.]

RUBIO: [Internal] Well, that was no help.

[RUBIO’s hand inches towards his Platform, ready to make the universal gesture of surrender.]

RUBIO: [Internal] WAIT! Every time I try and attack him, he does something so outrageous, I think there’s no way it could work—but then it does! That’s IT! I’ll beat him at his own game! And there’s one position in my Platform that can do it—the position I added in last night even though my advisors said not to! I just have to draw it right here. It’s never been more important to draw it. The fate of all my friends, and of America, depends on it! Spirit of Reagan, guide me!

[He draws.]

RUBIO: [Internal] YES! [External] All right, Donald! Let’s dispel with the notion that I’m about to lose! You almost beat me, but it’s time for me to END this Debate!

TRUMP: Hah! You? Beat me? You couldn’t even beat an egg, Rubi-boy! You’re puny! You’re weak! You’re a pathetic little man with pathetic little policies! There’s no way you’ll stop the incredible might of my Platform! And then your Primary Voters… will be mine! AHAHAHAAHAHAAHAH!

RUBIO: That’s ENOUGH, Donald! It’s time you learned a lesson about humility!

TRUMP: Humility?! Humility is for sad losers like you, Rubi-boy, who nobody loves! People love me! Everybody in America loves me! Everyone in China, and I’ll tell you, there’s some great people in China, just incredible people, they love me! I don’t need humility!

RUBIO: Your arrogance blinds you, Donald! Yes, people love you, but that’s because you make them fear—fear something they don’t understand! But I think we, as a people, can be more than just instruments, lifeless puppets animated only by fear or despair. We should be aspirational, aiming always for a greater future, not mourning the loss of a misremembered past! Turning to the past paralyzes us, freezes us in place, prevents us from thinking greater, from imagining the incredible glory of what could be—from striving to create a future beyond our wildest imaginings!

TRUMP: So what? How does that help you? Nobody’s going to believe YOU’RE the one to make them believe. And until then, they’ll all vote for me! HAHAHAHAHA!

RUBIO: I’ll tell you how it helps me, right now. I declare a position: An Additional $1 Trillion in Military Spending!

TRUMP: HAHAHAHA! You think that will help you, Rubi-boy? That’ll just further put you in debt, and because you don’t know how to make a deal—which I know how to do, I’ve been making deals for years, great deals, I’m the best at it—all it’ll get you is a bunch of useless, overdesigned fighter jets!

RUBIO: Will it? Look again, Donald—at this new position I just drew! This is what will win me the Debate! I’m not going to channel that extra military spending into planes. It’s all going straight to NASA!

TRUMP: NASA?! Hah! Nobody’s used that position in 40 years! What are you thinking? Moon landings are nice, but it’s not going to get you any votes!

RUBIO: I’m thinking a little bigger than a moon landing, Donald. I’m dreaming bigger. Bigger than you, in your blind arrogance, in the myopia that clouds and walls in your small mind, could deign to imagine! I’m going to create something the likes of which the world has never seen, something which will secure America’s superiority not just for four years, or eight, but for eternity!

[The playing field begins to glow. Lightning crackles across the roof of Air Force One.]

RUBIO: I will create a power beyond your wildest dreams! Come forth! SUPERDIMENSIONAL ROBOT GALAXY DESTROYER!*

[*This is the name of an actual card. No, really.]

TRUMP: No!!! Impossible!!!

RUBIO: Superdimensional Robot Galaxy Destroyer! Destroy him! With Superdimensional Robotic Fist of Galactic Destruction!

[SUPERDIMENSIONAL ROBOT GALAXY DESTROYER obliges. The explosion is massive. TRUMP is knocked off Air Force One and plunges into the endless darkness of the SHADOW REALM, whose featureless wastes he is doomed forever to wander alongside Rick Santorum and Bobby Jindal, his poll numbers insufficient to get him back on the debate stage.

RUBIO exults in his triumph. The next day, he goes on to win Florida, catapulting him to a colossal primary comeback that sweeps him to the nomination. Swept forward on a wave of political momentum, his victory seems inevitable until he repeats himself four times—when you’re only allowed three mentions of any one position in your Platform—in the first general election Debate. The ensuing cheating scandal ends his political career once and for all.]