They should remake downfall but mae Hitler into a sassy plus size black woman

[DonutHole]

---

INT. BUNKER - DAY

The room is tense. Generals and officers stand around a map-covered table. The sassy plus-size Black woman, now in full military attire but with her own flair (think gold hoop earrings, a bedazzled armband, and a fur-lined coat), paces the room, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. She stops, turns to her generals, and lets them have it.

QUEEN LATIFAH HITLER:
(snapping her fingers) Oh, so now y’all wanna come to me with your little problems? Now y’all wanna act like y’all didn’t see this coming? Baby, please. I been knew this was gonna happen. I been knew y’all were gonna drop the ball. But did y’all listen to me? Nooo. ‘Cause y’all too busy playing soldier instead of being soldiers.

She walks up to one of the generals, getting right in his face.

QUEEN LATIFAH HITLER:
And YOU. Don’t think I forgot about you, Mr. "I Got a Plan." What happened to your plan, huh? Did it get lost in the mail? Did it fall out of your pocket on the way here? Or did you just decide to wing it like a last-minute potluck dish?

The general stammers, but she cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

QUEEN LATIFAH HITLER:
Oh, save it. I don’t wanna hear it. You’re lucky I don’t fire your behind right now. But no, I’m a generous queen. I give y’all chance after chance, and what do I get in return? Disrespect. Disappointment. And a whole lot of nonsense.

She walks over to the map, shaking her head as she looks at it.

QUEEN LATIFAH HITLER:
Look at this mess. Just look at it. Y’all had one job. ONE. And now we’re out here looking like a hot mess express. Do y’all know how embarrassing this is? Do y’all know how bad this makes ME look? Huh? ‘Cause I’ll tell you—it makes me look REAL bad.

She turns back to the room, her hands on her hips.

QUEEN LATIFAH HITLER:
Now, I’m gonna say this one time, and one time only. Get it together. Or so help me, I will replace every last one of y’all with a team of interns and a ChatGPT subscription. Do I make myself clear?

The generals nod frantically, too scared to speak. Queen Latifah Hitler leans back against the table, fanning herself dramatically.

QUEEN LATIFAH HITLER:
Good. Now get out of my face. And somebody bring me a slice of cheesecake. I’m stressed.

The generals scramble out of the room as she takes a seat, muttering to herself.

QUEEN LATIFAH HITLER:
Unbelievable. The things I put up with. I swear, if I didn’t have this coat on, I’d be out there handling this mess myself.

She sighs, then picks up a pen and starts scribbling on the map, already moving on to her next big plan.

 

[jimbo]

>They should remake dowfall but mae Hitler into a sassy plus size black woman
ESL

 

[DonutHole]

---

Setting: A dimly lit war room. Maps are strewn across a large table. A group of nervous generals and officers stand around, avoiding eye contact. At the head of the table is LaToya, a plus-size Black woman with impeccable style, wearing a fabulous military-inspired outfit with a pop of leopard print. She’s sipping a mimosa and side-eyeing everyone in the room.

LaToya: (slamming her glass down) Oh, so now y’all wanna come to me with problems? After I’ve been sitting here, waiting for someone to tell me what in the entire hell is going on? No ma’am, not today.

General 1: (stammering) My lady, Steiner’s attack… it didn’t happen. The troops—

LaToya: (cutting him off) Hold up. Are you telling me that Steiner—Steiner, who I personally handpicked because he promised me results—didn’t do a damn thing? Oh, honey, no. This is not how we operate. I don’t care if he’s got a cute face, he’s about to be unemployed.

General 2: (nervously) But, my lady, the situation is dire. The enemy is advancing, and we—

LaToya: (snapping her fingers) Don’t “my lady” me right now. I’m not one of your little war room groupies. I’m the boss, and y’all are out here playing checkers while I’m trying to play chess. Where’s my counterattack? Where’s my backup plan? Where’s my damn brunch?

General 3: (hesitant) We… we have no reserves left. Steiner was our last hope.

LaToya: (leaning back in her chair, fanning herself dramatically) Oh, so now it’s my fault? Because I trusted y’all to do your jobs? No, no, no. Let me tell you something. If I have to get out of this chair and handle this mess myself, there’s gonna be hell to pay. And trust me, I look good doing it, but I shouldn’t have to.

General 1: (desperate) What are your orders, my lady?

LaToya: (standing up, adjusting her outfit) My orders? Oh, now you want my orders? Fine. Gather every last person you can find. I don’t care if they’re soldiers, chefs, or the janitor who mops the floors. We’re going out there, and we’re taking back what’s ours. And if anyone tries to stop me, they’re gonna regret it. Period.

General 2: (stammering) But… but the enemy has us surrounded!

LaToya: (smirking) Good. That just means they’re closer to my fists. Now, somebody get me my battle heels. We’re going to war.

The generals exchange panicked looks as LaToya struts out of the room, humming a Beyoncé song. The camera pans to the map on the table, showing the dire situation, but LaToya’s confidence is unwavering.