“I can’t have all this infighting among my staff,” Donald told the three men.

The hat sniggered knowingly and the hair shushed him.

“I’m the bestest President ever. The greatest since Lincoln. Although, I mean, what did Lincoln ever really do? He freed the slaves? Like, big deal, right? Real men free themselves, not wait around on a depressive fag to do it for them.”

“Who knew there was a boxing ring in the White House basement?” the hat asked.

“I did,” the hair said. “I told you to read up on this place. There’s a movie theater, a bowling alley, a regular dungeon, and a fully-outfitted fuck dungeon.”

“All the comforts of home,” the hat said, shivering in delight.

The hat and the hair were riding Donald tonight, a pride of place they both enjoyed. They had even gotten Donald to put on pants and shoes for this august occasion. The Secret Service had abducted Reince and Anthony from their hotels in the middle of the night and when the black hoods had been taken from their heads they had both shrunk back from the ancient incandescent bulbs that lit the underground facility. Steve had been escorted down from the bathtub they found him sleeping in in the White House residence. He was utterly nonplussed at finding himself in a boxing ring in the middle of a humid Washington night. All three had been stripped to the waist, but only Steve had a visible erection.

“You’re going to settle this right now,” Donald told them.

“You want us to fight?” Reince asked. “Like, fight fight? With our fists?”

“And feet and teeth and anything else you want,” Donald replied.

Anthony’s laughter boomed through the high ceilinged room. “I’m going to fuck you up, you little Beltway fairy. And then I’m going to just fuck you.”

“What?” Reince asked. “I don’t want to fight. I’ll just resign. I’ll get my rubber plant out of my office right now and just go.”

“And when they sew your asshole back into something that looks human, I’m going to fuck you again,” Anthony hissed, clacking his huge teeth together menacingly.

“Get away from me, you fucking psycho,” Reince said wildly, backing away.

“And then I’m coming for you, you old, drunken cocksucker,” Anthony told Steve. As his only reply, Steve picked at his hideously deep belly button and then smelled his finger.

“Here are the rules…” Donald said over their posturing, “There are no rules.” Donald laughed at what he thought was a clever joke and the hat groaned.

“Next he’ll say ‘It’s my way or the highway’ like he thought it up himself,” the hair muttered.

“Would you two shut up!” Donald yelled at them.

“Uh, who are you talking to, Mr. President?” Reince asked.

“FIGHT!” Donald screamed.

Anthony launched himself at Reince and the slight man shrieked and ran. Steve shuffled to the middle of the ring as Anthony chased Reince around and around.

“I’m going to fuck your eyes out, little man,” Anthony growled. “I’m going to make you eat my ass and write a song about it!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Reince cried.

“I know you’re the leaker,” Anthony said and leaped at him. He brought the slight man down and punched him repeatedly in the butt crack. “You’ll be a real leaker by the time I’m done!”

“Stop talking about ruining my ass!” Reince cried into the filthy canvas of the boxing ring.

Steve watched them both disinterestedly. He belched.

“Are you crying?” Anthony asked Reince incredulously. “Oh my fucking God, you are fucking cry, you fucking queer faggot.”

Anthony stood and kicked Reince a few times in the side and then climbed up on the ropes on the far side of the ring.

“Oh, fuck,” the hat said excitedly, “Here it fucking comes.”

Anthony jumped from the top rope, screaming, “COCK-BLOCK BODYSLAM!” and landed on Reince, making the entire ring shake.

“Oh, that’s got to fucking hurt!” Donald screamed, turning to a non-existent crowd for an approving roar that wouldn’t come.

Anthony paraded himself around the ring, pinching his nipples and flexing his biceps. Reince pulled himself over to the edge of the ring and fell off the side.

“Take me over there, Donald,” the hat. “I want to fucking spit on that dumb shit.”

Donald to where the little man lay bleeding, coughing weakly, spit and mucus smeared on his face.

“That’s what you get, cunt,” the hat told him. “That’s what you get for working for this Administration. Kick him, Donald.” Donald kicked Reince without much force.

“Harder, Donald,” the hat urged. “I want this pussy puking up his ribs!”

“Would you stop already?” the hair asked.

“No fucking way,” the hat said. “He did a terrible job, like Jeff, and I want him to know it. In fact, why isn’t Jeff here? I want to see that wizened old elf fuck grovel!”

“More fighting!” Donald yelled. “More!”

“You ready, old man?” Anthony asked Steve. “You ready, you fucking bum?” He advanced on Steve, his fists up, trying to dance around like boxers he had seen on pay-per-view.

“Did you read The New Yorker interview? Huh?” Anthony taunted. He feinted a swing at Steve, but Steve didn’t flinch.

“DEATH TO ALL LEAKERS!” Anthony screamed and rushed at Steve.

Steve lashed out, grabbed Anthony by the throat and lifted him up in the air with his tremendous hobo strength.

“How much can you really know about yourself if you’ve never sucked your own cock?” Steve asked quietly.

The hair laughed loudly while Anthony feebly thrashed in Steve’s hand.

“Oh no, he didn’t!” the hat howled.

Steve threw Anthony out of the ring and he landed in an insensate heap.

“Well, I guess we have a winner,” Donald said.

The hat and the hair continued to laugh as Steve climbed out of the ring, collected his bindle from the Secret Service man holding it, and shuffled into the darkened labyrinth of tunnels under the White House.