“We can’t get rid of Steve!’ the hat wailed.

“No, he’s got to go. He’s the leaker. He’s been leaking,” the hair told him. They had been locked together in the hair vault all weekend.

“But I like, Steve. He was going to take me on the rails with him this fall.”

“No. He’s out. We’ve got to make a sacrifice for that inbred retard killing that fatso in North Carolina.”

“We were going to see the real America, the America that lives in culverts and steals pies off of window sills.”

“Kelly says he has to go,” the hair said.

“I’m sick of Kelly. He gets rid of all the people I like. Look at Anthony. I really miss Anthony.”

“You miss snorting coke with Anthony in the maid’s quarters. You miss watching BBW poop porn with Anthony on his cell phone.”

“He knew all the best sites,” the hat whined.

“Besides, Steve got rid of Anthony. He broke him. You were there.”

“I want some brown sugar,” the hat whined. It was a thin and pitiful noise. It made the hair writhe in disgust.

“If you’re talking about a black hooker, that can be arranged,” the hair said, hoping that it was a black prostitute.

“No, man. I need some smack, some tar, horse, China white, some skag, junk, H, some of that sweet White Lady.”

“No, you’re going cold turkey. I need help keeping Donald in line.”

“My fabric hurts all over. My teeth itch.”

“You don’t have any teeth,” the hair said. “And you need to be washed. You smell like rotten pussy.”

The hat mumbled something indistinct.

“What? Speak up.”

“I let Sarah sit on me.”

“Dude, that’s fucking gross.”

“She was eating fried chicken too.”

The hair made vomiting noises.

“She said she’d get me his phone back so I could Twitter.”

“You aren’t getting the phone back until you’re clean,” the hair said.

The hat mewled.

“Hold on…” the hair said, “Did you feel that?” He spread out his most sensitive tendrils onto the marble of the vault shelf they were sitting on.

“No,” the hat said. “All I feel is pain. And sick. I think I’m going to throw up again.”

“Shh. Be quiet.”

“Fuck you. I’m sick over here, you fuck.” The hat barfed up a small handful of discolored thread and groaned.

“You don’t feel it?”

“Just give me heroin or leave me the fuck alone.”

The entire vault shook.

“OK, the hat said, “I felt it that time.”

A loud roar reverberated through the small room: “KELLY!”

“It’s Steve!” the hat exclaimed. “I knew Steve would come for me!”

“MCMASTERS!”

The entire vault shook again and the hair slid into the pool of the hat’s sick as it scrabbled for purchase.

“Goddammit!” the hair yelled as the vault door was wrenched off its hinges and light poured into the toupee vault.

“Steve!” the hat yelled excitedly.

The hulking hobo carried the heavy steel vault door over to the window and rammed it again and again until the wire-meshed bulletproof glass fell outside in shattered pieces.

“Steve! Wait! Take me with you!” the hat screamed.

Steve didn’t even look back as he jumped from the window and bellowed in defiance.

(click below, audio only)