“Now no one can ever burn an American flag again!” Donald said as he signed the Executive Order with a flourish.

“Womp womp,” the hat said.

“It will never stand up in court,” the hair said.

“Not the point,” the hat said, “It’s to get commie fuckos to start burning the flag in protest.”

“Uh, huh,” the hair said. “You’ve talked about it incessantly since you came up with the idea.”

“My plan is going to work,” the hat insisted.

“You you two shut up?” Donald growled under his breath.

“Just smile for the cameras and look pretty,” the hat said.

Donald stood up and smiled for the cameras, moving among the press office goons, shaking hands and making jokes.

“Look how well he works crowd, “the hat said, his voice swollen with pride.

“Just concentrate on keeping him from doing it,” the hair said.

“Oh, he’s going to do it,” the hat said.

“The press coverage…” the hair began.

“You’re such a Karen,” the hat said. “You whine like an old woman.”

“Do it, Donald,” the hat urged. “Do it, do it, do it.”

“They’ll never let the pictures be published,” the hair said.

“You have never understood the value of morale among the troops,”

“I love the American flag!” Donald said loudly.

He supermanned his shirt open, exposing the American flag bikini top he had on under his suit. The press corps gasped, and a frail intern passed out, hitting the floor of The Oval Office with a dull thud.