BOBBY V.O.: Wanna get caught? Spend your life in prison?

EXT. PARK, WASHINGTON, D.C. — DAY

Jack and Bobby sit on a bench, trying to look inconspicuous in their trench coats, top hats, and sunglasses. They both hold newspapers: Bobby, a NY Times; Jack, a free XXX rag.

BOBBY: We can’t be seen together- not at home, not the office. And we sure can’t talk about it on the phone.

JACK: We look ridiculous.

BOBBY: Speak for yourself, I look good.

JACK: … So what do we got so far?

BOBBY: Obvious ones- poison, bomb, explosion of some kind.

JACK: How ‘bout a knife?

BOBBY: Tough to kill him.

JACK: Rope.

BOBBY: What, like the mafia?

JACK: Lead pipe.

BOBBY: Eh.

JACK: Candlestick.

BOBBY: (a beat) Are you naming Clue pieces?

JACK: You can learn a lot from a family board game.

BOBBY: Jesus, Jack.

JACK: Hitler played Risk. (Bobby sighs) From the suggested age of 8 and up.

Speaking of 8-year-olds, a tour guide leads a Cub Scout troop past them, lecturing on the wonders of democracy. Jack and Bobby wave to the boys. Thinking they’re pedophiles, the tour guide hurries the Scouts along.

BOBBY: You know the President, you been to his house. What does he like?

JACK: Fine china.

BOBBY How does that possibly…

JACK: Princess Di commemorative plates. (big) Franklin Mint.

BOBBY: Something we can use, something-

JACK: He likes 20-year-old scotch.

BOBBY: Who doesn’t?

JACK: And 20-year-olds.

BOBBY: (perks up) Girls?

JACK: Preferably with the scotch.

BOBBY: You serious right now?

JACK: Oh, yeah. He makes Clinton look like a… (wracks his brain, trying to say ‘teetotaler’) Tee-tote.

BOBBY: Jack, you beautiful bastard!

JACK: … Uh, tee-tot…

BOBBY: We got our in.

JACK: … Tater tot… (nailed it) Makes him look a tater tot.

A policeman swaggers past. Jack and Bobby sit upright and straighten their clothes. The cop eyes them suspiciously.

BOBBY: Okay, okay. Anything else you can think of?

JACK: He hates clowns.

BOBBY: Everyone hates clowns.

JACK: And babies.

BOBBY: Really?

JACK: And bunnies. And pandas. And peanuts. And-

BOBBY: Peanuts?

JACK: That’s what you took from that?

BOBBY: Wait- does he not like them or is he allergic?

JACK: What’s the difference?

BOBBY: Us sleeping on this bench or napping in the Lincoln bedroom.

JACK: I do like naps.

BOBBY: If he’s allergic…

JACK: (realizing) … We could frame Mr. Peanut.

BOBBY: Exactly.

JACK: So pretentious with his cane and monocle. Like to take a fork and-

BOBBY: (beaming) Think we found our weapon.

JACK: Fork?

BOBBY: Peanut!

JACK: Frankly, I prefer the candlestick.

BOBBY: Next time, awright?

JACK: Promise?

BOBBY: You have my word, Jack. Next time we plot to assassinate a public figure, we’ll use a candlestick.

JACK: Thank you.

A guy dressed exactly like Jack and Bobby strolls past; there’s a good chance he has nothing under his coat. He nods hello to Jack and Bobby- after all, they’re his peers. Jack and Bobby realize they look like perverts.

JACK: We should probably…

BOBBY: Yeah.

They spring off the bench. O.s., boys SHRIEK as the guy in the trench coat exposes himself to the Cub Scouts.