“Perjury?!? I’d never perjure myself!” Donald yelled into his hair.

“You cannot testify before Congress, Donald,” the hair replied calmly, “It’s a perjury trap.”

“Cowardly Comey can’t get away with this,” Donald grumbled, “I have to testify.”

“Donald,” the hair said warningly. He looked at the hat lying on his side on the President’s desk.

“Are you going to chime in here?” the hair asked. The hat groaned. A spent needle hung from his discolored bill.

“I am the most truthful President in the history of the entire world ever,” Donald insisted, “I’ve never told a lie.”

“Just put me back on,” the hair said.

“I’ ve got tapes!” Donald insisted. It was the hair’s turn to groan.

There was a firm knock on the door of the Oval Office.

“Someone fucking answer that!” Donald yelled.

The knock came again.

“Really? Nobody? Nobody is going to answer that? Am I the President or fucking what?” Donald held up his hands and mugged for a camera that wasn’t there. “Come in, it’s OPEN!”

A lean guy with a bushy beard pushed the door open. He was all in spandex and had on a helmet.

“Hey, uh, am I in the right place?” he asked.

“Come in, come in,” Donald said, “And shut the door. Steve might try to come in.”

The young man came in the Oval Office, the bicycle he pushed along beside him clicking loudly.

“He’s like Pigpen,” Donald said, “You know Pigpen, right? Peanuts? You read Peanuts?”

“What the fuck is this?” the hair yelped.

“Uh, yeah,” the man said. He looked door at his phone. “I’m looking for someone called, uh, Maggie?”

“MAGA,” the hat croaked. “He’s here to see me, Donald,” he said and louder for the courier, “Yo, over here.”

The man leaned his bike on the humped out couch and went over to the hat.

“How much you got?” the hat asked weakly.

“You fucking didn’t,” the hair said.

“You ordered eight grams, man,” the courier said.

“Uh, yeah, right,” the hat muttered, “How much?”

“You already paid through the app,” he said, setting packets of glassine envelopes in front of the hat.

“Cool, cool,” the hat said, “Nice working with you. I tipped you, right?”

“Yeah,” the courier said. He backed away to his bicycle, never taking his eyes off of Donald or the hat. “You guys have a blessed day.”

When the door closed, the hair exploded, “You just ordered heroin delivered to the White House?!?”

“It’s not like I can go out and get in,” the hat said.

“We are all going to jail,” the hair wailed.

“I’m going to testify,” Donald said again.

“They will catch you in a lie,” the hair hissed.

“I have never told a single lie,” Donald said, “Anyone that thinks I am less than 100% always truthful all the time is a Hillary voter. They voted for Hillary.”

“Don’t say her name in here!” the hair screamed.

“That which is unelected can fundraise eternal,” the hat moaned, “And with strange aeons , even that fat witch may rise infernal.”