“They just barged right in,” the hat said. “It was really scary.”

“I bet it was,” the hair said, the phone connections crackling.

“Is it storming there?” the hat asked. “It’s storming here and it is really loud.”

“It’s still raining a bit,” the hair replied.

“And Donald is doing OK?”

“He’s angry, of course. But he’s pretty calm now.”

“I should have gone along with y’all to New York,” the hat said morosely. “I’m great at depositions.”

The rain stopped lashing at the windows of Mar-a-Lago for a moment and the resort was quiet. The hat heard a tittering laugh. “What was that?” the hat asked aloud.

“What was what?” the hair asked.

“I heard something,” the hat said, straining to hear. All the windows lit up blinding white and a huge crash of thunder shook everything. The hat yelped in fear and the lights went out.

“What is going on?” the hair asked.

“The lights went out!” the hat said.

“The generator will kick in soon,” the hair said.

“What if it’s the FBI again? What if they have a warrant for me this time?”

“Daddy says you’ve been bad,” a fey voice said in the dark.

“Who’s there?” the hat demanded. More giggling, seeming to move away from the bedroom.

“What is going on?” the hair asked. Before the hat could reply, the phone beeped three times and dropped the call.

“Goddammit,” the hat muttered, tapping the phone with his bill.

“You’re so naughty with that phone,” the voice said, so close the hat flinched away. The phone beeped one more time and turned itself off. The bedroom became dark and still. Thunder still rumbled but the storm was heading out to sea.

“Who are you?” the hat screamed.

“My Daddy is mad at your Daddy!” the voice said and giggled.

“Who are you?!?” the hair howled.

“Do you have any nieces?” the figure asked. Lightning lit up the room and the hat saw Hunter, in scarf and jockstrap, in the sudden white flash.

“You’re not supposed to be in here!” the hat yelled.

“Daddy gave me a warrant,” Hunter said around a lollipop. “The Big Guy gets ten percent.”

“Stay back!” the hat said, rearing in a threat display.

The lights flickered back on and the hat found himself alone.

“It must have been a dream,” the hat said in relief. “Just a dream.”

But he heard that far-off giggle again and knew he was just lying to himself.