“I gots the DEMON DNA in me!’ Donald screamed. “I can feel it runnin’ all through my body! Foul succubi!”

The hair closed the door the Presidential Shitter and scuttled back over to the hat. “You were saying?” he asked the hat after he rejoined him on the Resolute desk.

“There’s just too many hats,” the hat said. “They dilute my power.”

The hair nodded thoughtfully and surveyed the hats perched around the Oval Office.

“I mean, I’m the hat,” the hat said. “Not a hat, not one of the hats. I’m not some faceless, nameless hat in a sea of hats.”

“There’s just so many of them,” the hair said, wonder filling his voice.

“Ah wuz the f-hurst!” USA hat said from the umbrella stand.

“No, yo fui el primero,” MMGA hat said. “Sessions me usó antes de las elecciones.”

“Don’t you have a yard to mow? Or a tourist to murder?” the hat asked.

“!Dios mío!” MMGA hat cried.

“Go stuff a burrito in your hatband, beaner,” the hat said, puffing up like a rooster.

“让中国再伟大!” the MCGA hat crowed.

“Don’t even start with that ching-chong bing-bong garbage, Senor Eggroll,” USA hat groused.

“You tell ‘em, honeybear,” the Cowboy Patriot hat said in liquid tones.

“Not in the office,” USA whispered loudly.

“GAY!” the hat yelled.

“Gay hats give you scalp AIDS,” Trump Girl hat said confidently. “I read that on the internet.”

The hat and the hair groaned together.

“I’m not the first hat, but I am obviously the best hat,” the hat and hair hat boasted.

“Abomination!” the hair screeched. “Thou shall not suffer a wig-hat to live!” The hat contented himself with just making retching noises.

“Party on the top, Republican Party on the bottom,” the hat and hair hat said.

“You’re a visor, shitwit!” the hat yelled. “No one can take a visor seriously!”

“And what is that? Polyester?” The hair asked indignantly. “You couldn’t even find proper Bangladeshi beggar hair?!?”

“AJAX!” Donald screamed through the reinforced walls of the Presidential Shitter. “I NEED AJAX FOR MY ALIEN PENIS!”

“All that matters is the re-election,” the KAG hat said.

“Well, of course, you would think that,” the hair said.

“Do you want to be a one-termer?” KAG hat asked the hat, ignoring the hair utterly. “A mere Bush 1.0? A… Carter?”

“Noooo!” the hat moaned. “I don’t want to build Houses for Humanity! I hate humanity!”

In the stinging silence, they all heard grunt grunt grunting and other fuck sounds. The hat and the hair looked under the desk.

“STOP THAT!” the hair ordered.

“GAY!” the hat said again.

“Ah think it’s only gay iffen yore the hat on the bottom,” USA hat opined.

“They aren’t even branded!’ the hat said. “How’d they even get in here?”

“HEY!” Cowboy Flag hat said.

“You’re next, you FM103 giveaway trash!” the hat snapped.

“There’s no call fur that,” USA hat yelled back.

“HATS!” the hair screeched. “Too many hats!”

They all began to hurl invective at the hair, a rising sea of hat babble that soaked the Oval Office.

“REEEEEEEEEE!” the hat began, rocking back and forth. “EEEEEEEEEEE!”

In the fading whine of the hat’s inarticulate coping, they heard a tap on the Oval Office window. And then another and another.

“What is that?” the hair asked.

The unopenable window opened and a hat flew in and fluttered around the room majestically.

“Whut is it?” USA hat asked.

“It’s beautiful,” the hat said.

“SPACE!” the Space Force hat interjected.

Freedom 2020 hat landed gracefully on the Resolute desk and struck a dramatic pose. Light from the window streamed over it and lens flares shot off its golden thread.

“You can fly?” the hat asked, awed and humbled.

“I have wings, don’t I?” Freedom 2020 hat asked, his deep, manly voice rich like fancy coffee.

“All the rest of you are absolute trash,” the hat said.

Before the chorus of hurt objections began, the door to the Presidential Shitter flew open; Donald stumbled out, bald and wet, holding his rubbed-raw genitals in his hands.

“When was the last time I was tested for endometriosis?” Donald demanded. None of the assembled hats answered him.

“Well?” Donald asked.

The hats lay still and quiet–even the humping hats under the desk and the belligerent rube in the umbrella stand. Donald snorted in disgust and went back to rubbing Chapstick on his mushroom cap.