“More,” the hat said. “I want to fire more of them.” His voice became strained and he coughed a few times, then spit a splintered turkey leg bone onto the floor.

“We’ve already fired a lot of them,” the hair told him. “Maybe let’s wait for the swearing in of Congress in January.”

“Kelly. I want Kelly gone. He refuses to recognize my authority,” the hat said. He inched his way onto a sweet potato and settled onto it like a mother hen tending her eggs.

“Kelly keeps everyone in line,” the hair protested.

“I don’t care. We’ll put Corey in charge. He knows now how to take care of whiners.”

The hair made a noncommittal grunt and typed on a laptop for a few seconds.

“Mueller!” Donald yelled from the bathroom.

“This sweet potato tastes funny,” the hat groused.

“Maybe it’s a yam,” the hair said distantly.

“It’s not a fucking yam. I know what a yam is. This is a sweet potato and it tastes funny.”

“Is it maybe because it’s raw?” the hair asked.

“Probably,” the hat said morosely. He crawled off the dissolving sweet potato and went back to the turkey carcass on the table.”There’s still plenty left if you want some.”

“You know I don’t eat meat,” the hair said. He typed furiously on the laptop for a second.

“What are you doing over there?” the hat whined.

“Early Christmas shopping,” the hair said. “There are some great pre-Black Friday deals.”

“‘Pre-Black Friday deals?” the hat said, spitting out a gnawed section of turkey spine.

“Yeah, there are all sorts of…” the hair began.

“Hold on, shut up, I just got an alert from Twitter,” the hat said.

“Rude.”

“Hey, I’ve had to keep Donald social media afloat all damn week. He refuses to get out of the tub!”

“I can hear you!” Donald said in a singsong voice.

“I don’t care,” the hat reply in the same singsong. The hat rattled off a string of characters on Donald’s phone.

“All those trips to the wildfires really wore him out,” the hair said.

“Fucking autocorrect,” the hat muttered. “How do you spell ‘smegma?’”

“COOL!” Donald yelled. “My phone floats! Did you guys know my phone floats?”

“It’s not a real phone,” the hat muttered.

“That’s great, Donald. So smart of you to get a phone that floats for the bathtub!’ the hair yelled.

“Smegma!” the hat said.

“How am I supposed to know how to spell it?” the hair asked.

“Look it up on the computer,” the hat said and sighed heavily.

“‘S-,” the hair said, “‘M-.’”

“Hurry up. I’ve got to get this tweet off.”

“Uh. Maybe you should come over here,” the hair said.

“What it is?”

“Just come over here.”

The hat crawled off a wad of dressing and made his way over to the hair.

“What?” he asked querulously.

“Looks at the autofill in the search line,” the hair said.

SMooth and painful bump near anus

“Uh…” the hat said.

“I mean this wasn’t you, right?” the hair asked.

“Of course not,” the hat said angrily. “My anus is 100% perfect. Solid gold. A+, number one, awesome. My anus could be the cover model for American Anus Monthly!”

“I just thought if Donald was having, you know, butt problems, I’d know about it,” the hair said.

“I mean, I guess,” the hat said. “But you are all the way up on the head. Maybe butt stuff just doesn’t make it up that far?”

“What if…” the hair began and trailed off.

“What if what?” the hair asked.

“I’m just going to go for it,” the hair said. His tendril typed rapidly on the laptop.

Hair club for men
Hair in the drain
Hair in my nose
Hair in butt infected

“OK,” the hair said, ‘That’s not so bad.”

“Try ‘my hair,’” the hat whispered.

My hair talks to me
My hair is my best friend
My hair ecards Valentine’s Day

“Well, I guess that’s not so bad,” the hair said.

“Do it,” the hat said. “Do it. I can’t not know now.” The hair typed once more.

My hat might be Hitler

“Hitler? HITLER? He thinks I might be Hitler?!?”

“Well…” the hair said.

“Well, what? What? Just spit it out.”

“Well, you don’t like Jews very much.”

“Well, I mean, yeah,” the hat said.”They are greedy and cheap and can’t be trusted and they killed Jesus. And then there’s…”

“Hey, look, more results,” the hair said.

My hat and hair are always fighting
My hat makes sex noises
My hat watches me take baths

The hat groaned and the hair shifted around uncomfortably.

“I only watch him in the bath in case he falls,” the hat said rapidly.

“I don’t care,” the hair said. “None of my business, bruh.”

“I’m getting all pruney!’ Donald called from the tub.

“Did you get the California stench off you yet?” the hat called.

“I’m working on it!’ the President of the United States yelled back.

The hat slouched away from the laptop and back to his meal. Bones began cracking.

“Are you done eating that pardoned turkey yet?” the hair asked.

The hat burped loudly.