“I never use the same adjective twice,” Trump replies coolly. “As you know, I do have killer instincts. That’s how I knocked out 16 losers. So let’s try a few names for kicks. Pious Paul? Pompous Paul? Phony Paul? Back-Stabbing, Blindsiding Paul who hung me out to dry to protect his own presidential ambitions for 2020?”

Ryan blanches, protesting: “No, no, I just want us to come together with a positive vision.”

“I am positive,” Trump says, manspreading as party aides cower in the corners. “I’m positive that what you did was terrible. You’re just giving cover to more traitors, like that reject Lindsey Graham, who I beat like a toy drum. Now Nasty Lindsey’s on TV spewing hate and saying my convention should be held in Area 51. The only number he needs to remember is zero — the number of votes he got.”

Ryan puts on his best altar-boy demeanor, which annoys Trump.

“Look at that face!” the billionaire mocks. “Or should I say two? Two-Faced Paul. You’re just mad because you and Mitt wanted to lead white male America and instead I’m going to. Romney choked. And what about that time you lied about how fast you ran a marathon? Cheatin’ Ryan. A choker and a cheater.”

“Now Donald, be reasonable,” Ryan says. “I’m just trying to figure out how to endorse you and not put my own majority at risk. We can’t be a bigoted, angry party. You just make our problem with Hispanics worse when you tweet a picture of yourself eating a taco bowl on Cinco de Mayo.”

“No way, José,” Trump says. “That got 80,000 retweets and 100,000 likes. Muy bueno. I have eight million Twitter followers. You have, like, one million and need two accounts to get there.”