That was no white-power hand signal at the Kavanaugh hearing, Zina Bash’s husband says

Donald lay across this desk, tracing the cracks in the Oval Office ceiling with his finger.

“Look at that one,” he said to the hat. “See, it looks like a wheel barrel.”

“A wheel barrel?” asked the hair. “What’s a wheel barrel?”

“Zina,” Donald crooned softly. “Zina.”

“A wheel barrel,” the hat said. “You know, a wheel barrel. It’s got a wheel and you put things in the barrel to carry them around.”

“Did you see the signals she was sending me?” Donald asked. “They were secret signals, just for me.”

“She was just scratching her arm, Donald,” the hat said.

“A barrel with wheels? What the fuck are you talking about?” the hair asked.

“No, it was a signal,” Donald insisted. “She also tucked her hair back over her ear. Classic flirting.”

“A wheel barrel,” the hat said. “Look it up, idiot. Google it. You’ll see.”

“That crack in the ceiling looks nothing like a barrel with wheels,” the hair said excitedly.

“When women touch their hair that means they want The Donald,” Donald said, still tracing cracks in the ceiling. “Or when they blink. And women blink around me, like, all the time, I tell you.”

“It looks like a cart,” the hair said framing out the series of cracks with his tendrils. “A little cart.”

“Blinking is winking with both eyes,” Donald whispered.

“Wait… It’s a wheelbarrow,” the hair said scornfully. “Barrow. Not ‘wheel barrel.’”

“Wheelbarrow‽” the hat exclaimed. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Zina…” Donald said. “I hope she gives me a thumbs-up today…”

The hat grumbled and the hair fumed and Donald hummed to himself. In the quiet Oval Office, they could hear the West Lawn being mowed.

“So, like, we’re just not going to talk about Woodward at all?” the hat asked.