Google suggested a scenario for using truth and humor to bring down the Trump administration:

The Silent Secret Service Agent: A background character in sketches who never speaks but communicates pure, relatable exhaustion through subtle eye rolls, heavy sighs, and glances directly at the camera.

So I asked:

"I want a funny TV script for the silent secret service agent.  It should be set in the Donald Trump's Office."

Here’s the result:

TITLE: THE SILENT SENTINEL

CHARACTERS:

• AGENT MILLER (40s): Secret Service. Stoic. Immovable. Communicates entirely through micro-expressions, heavy breathing, and breaking the fourth wall.
• DONALD TRUMP (70s): The President. Energetic, easily distracted, and highly focused on optics.
• CHIEF OF STAFF (40s): Frazzled, clutching a stack of papers, desperate for order.

---

[SCENE START]

INT. OVAL OFFICE - DAY

DONALD TRUMP sits behind the Resolute Desk, fiercely signing a stack of blank printer paper with a giant black Sharpie.

Standing exactly two paces behind his left shoulder is AGENT MILLER. Miller wears a crisp suit, sunglasses indoors, and an earpiece. He is completely motionless.

The CHIEF OF STAFF bursts in, hyperventilating.

CHIEF OF STAFF
Sir! The Prime Minister of Denmark is on line one. He wants to know why you tweeted that Greenland is "rightfully a suburb of New Jersey."

Trump doesn't look up from his signing.

TRUMP
It’s a beautiful island. Tremendous potential for golf. We’re going to build a wall around it to keep the ice from melting. A glass wall. Very high-end.

Miller slowly turns his head three degrees toward the camera. He lowers his sunglasses by a fraction of an inch. His eyes convey a profound, existential dread. He raises the sunglasses back up.

CHIEF OF STAFF
(Tweaking out)
Sir, Greenland is a self-governing territory. We cannot annex it for New Jersey. The Governor of New Jersey is already crying on CNN!

TRUMP
(Waving a hand dismissively)
New Jersey loves me. Everybody loves me. Miller, do they love me in Denmark?

Miller remains perfectly still. His jaw muscles clench twice. He gives a microscopic, single-millimeter nod that screams, "Just say yes so he stops talking."

TRUMP
See? Miller knows. Miller is a tough guy. Great genes.

Trump suddenly stands up and walks over to a giant, gold-framed map of the world on the wall. He grabs a red dry-erase marker.

TRUMP
We need to reshape the narrative. Look at Europe. It’s too small. We’re going to enlarge it. Comedically large.

Trump draws a massive, erratic circle around Western Europe, accidentally extending the line right across Miller’s pristine white shirt collar.

The marker leaves a thick, bright red streak across Miller's neck.

Miller does not flinch. His left eyelid twitches rapidly in Morse code. He looks directly into the camera lens. A single bead of sweat rolls down his temple.

CHIEF OF STAFF
Sir, please put the marker down. The Joint Chiefs are waiting in the Situation Room. They need your signature on the infrastructure bill.

TRUMP
Infrastructure? Boring. I want to talk about the space lasers. Why aren't we talking about the lasers? Miller, where are the keys to the lasers?

Trump begins rummaging through Miller’s suit pockets. He pulls out a pack of gum, a pair of handcuffs, and a half-eaten protein bar.

Throughout the search, Miller stares dead ahead, completely rigid, like a statue being looted by a tourist. He slowly reaches his hand up, presses his earpiece, and whispers.

MILLER
(V.O. / Earpiece static)
Omega Team... this is Eagle Eye. Requesting immediate extraction. Subject is eating my backup lint-rolled Snickers bar. Repeat. Emergency protocol chocolate.

Trump bites into the protein bar, winces, and stuffs it back into Miller's breast pocket.

TRUMP
Too healthy. Terrible taste. No chocolate flavor. Let’s go to the Situation Room. I want to see if the big chairs spin.

Trump marches out of the office. The Chief of Staff runs after him, dropping papers everywhere.

CHIEF OF STAFF
Wait, sir! The Denmark call!

The door slams shut. The room is quiet.

Miller stands alone in the center of the Oval Office. He slowly reaches into his jacket, pulls out a tiny, silver flask, and unscrews the cap. He takes a long, silent swig.

He looks at the red marker stain on his collar, looks at the camera one last time, sighs a sigh that shakes his entire soul, and steps backward into the shadows of the curtains.

[SCENE END]