Trump begins the Death Dance by reaming Michael for jumping in when Bren was in the middle of ripping Stephanie a new one. It just doesn't make sense -- why wouldn't you just let Bren pick on Stephanie all he wanted to, since it would tend to get her fired or Bren fired instead of you? Michael agrees, but it's too late, really. Trump asks Michael this same thing about three times, and never allows Michael to answer the question. Maybe the worst-sounding LoopTrump ever tells Michael, "You claim to be like me? The difference is I work hard." And then LiveTrump tells Michael that first he was lazy, and now he's being totally dumb for interfering with someone else's fight. So the long and the short of it? Michael, you're fired. And now that he's already gone, you'd think Michael would be done making himself look extra-tooly, but he's not. As he leaves, he throws his card down on the table and tells Trump to get in touch if he's ever in Boston. "Call me, I'm serious, please. I own a nice, large parking lot in the city," Michael says. Wow, that was random. Somehow, I'm not sure that parking is Trump's biggest problem when he docks in Boston.
Michael rides the down elevator. That's several very meritorious firings in a row, so I feel like I should really give props to Trump. There's a very funny moment back in the Boardroom where Trump asks George if he feels good about that firing, and Trump is all, "Hey, George, if you're not okay, I'm not okay" (hee), and George assures him that Michael will not be missed. So then Trump's like, "[shrug] Okay!" And that's how much they care about Michael. Adios, Parking Lot Boy.
In his taxi interview, Michael predictably complains about all the backstabbers, calls them all "morons and idiots," calls the experience "very unique," complains about the attorneys on the team, praises Net Worth, and then claims to have no hard feelings. Of course not!
Next week: Magna still looks like a bunch of dorks. Somebody lies to Trump. Other than Trump, you know, lying to himself.