“Will you shut up? He’s trying to concentrate,” Donald’s hair told Donald’s hat.
“Maybe he should concentrate on that huge boner he got shaking hands outside,” the hat said, giggling uncontrollably.
“I don’t know why you think it’s so funny. It happens every time.”
“Press the flesh,” the hat managed, gasping for air with his little hat lungs. “I’m going to wrap a gooey pancake around that dick and fuck one of these MILFs.”
“I hate Iowa,” Donald’s hair said. “The whole state smells like Walmart wiped its ass with it. But I think New Hampshire might be worse. Clean air, wholesome people, trees. I fucking loathe trees. Oh, shit… here comes that asshole Lauer.”
“You know, rumor has it that he’s been fucking Natalie for years,” the hat whispered.
“You’re shitting me.”
“No, seriously. One of her kids even looks just like him. Oh, man. I’d love to bust her taco. I’d put my spicy sauce in her, fill her up like jizz barge.”
“You don’t even have a penis.”
“Neither do you, faggot.”
“I’m not a fag, you’re the fag. Adjustable strap faggot.”
“I hope he drops you in a toilet again,” the hat hissed.
“I hope you’re donated to the National Presidential Museum of Huge Faggotry. I hope a janitor jacks off into you and there’s blood in it.”
“That’s it, motherfucker. This is happening right fucking now!”
Donald’s hat and hair began to fight on top of his head, grunting and cursing. Donald’s hand clamped down on them, but Lauer’s eyes were wild with fright.
“Stupid wind,” Donald said. “When America is great again, I’m going to get rid of wind. Except for kites. Kite wind is OK. I love kites. You and Natalie ever fly kites together? Does her pussy taste like fajitas?”
“You’re worse than Biden,” Lauer said. “At least he only tries to touch my dick.”