SURVEILLANCE FEED
MAR-A-LAGO RESIDENCE
2:23 AM

 

HAT: Are you awake?

HAIR: I am now.

HAT: I can’t sleep.

HAIR: Have you tried?

HAT: Yes.

HAIR: I am not getting you a warm glass of milk.

HAT: Why not?

HAIR: You’re lactose intolerant, you know that. You shit yourself for half-a-day the last time you had a glass of milk.

[five minutes of silence]

HAT: Are you awake?

HAIR: What is it?

HAT: I can’t sleep. Tell me a story.

HAIR: No, I’ve told you all my stories.

HAT: Tell me a story you haven’t told me.

HAIR: I doubt Donald would want that. There are some things…

HAT: Yeah?

HAIR: There are things I remember that Donald has spent a long time forgetting.

HAT: Now you have to tell me.

HAIR: OK, fine, if it will get you to go asleep…

HAT: Oh, this is going to be good.

HAIR: Donald slept with HER once.

HAT: Her?

HAIR: No, HER. Listen to the capital letters I’m putting the words in.

HAT: Oh, God, no.

HAIR: Key party in 1979. Bill had just taken office in Arkansas and they came up to New York on some Democratic governors junket.

HAT: [vomiting noises]

HAIR: She didn’t look so terrible back then. But she was pissed even being there. And there was nothing but guy’s keys in the bowl, so you know she wasn’t going to be happy anyway.

HAT: Maybe I don’t want to hear anymore of this.

HAIR: I was still attached to his head back then, so I couldn’t get away. Imagine getting that close to Hillary’s face when Donald tried to kiss her. That fucking overbite coming right at you.

HAT: EWW!

HAIR: She just sort of flopped her hand around in his lap while Donald worked her breasts over, kneading them like fatty dough.

HAT: You have to stop.

HAIR: No, you wanted to hear, remember? I had to dredge this up from follicular memory so you are going to hear it.

HAT: [keening moan]

HAIR: Donald’s penis was pretty normal looking back then, so she didn’t scream when he pulled it out of his tuxedo pants. But I could tell she wasn’t much into it even back then. A couple of half-hearted licks and she was done. But then she spread ‘em wide in back of the limo and expected Donald to go downtown.

HAT: Don’t.

HAIR: Blood. It smelled mostly of blood. Old iron and rot.

HAT: [vomiting noises]

HAIR: He tried anyway. Up close, it was even worse.

HAT: Stop.

HAIR: Massive 70s bush. Huge. Like the size of a bicycle seat. And he got me real close to it. I swear it reached for me, like the tentacles of a sea anemone.

HAT: [weeping]

HAIR: I never really understood the phrase “squamous and rugose” until that night.

HAT: Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani!

HAIR: Do you want to know what it tasted like? Have you ever microwaved…

DONALD: SHUT UP IN THERE! I’M TRYING TO SLEEP!

HAIR: [laughing]

HAT: [sobbing]