“Nah, see, you aint’s understandin’ my plan,” the hat said rapidly.

“Why are you talking like that?” the hair asked calmly.

“I reopens the government and do the State of the Union and den Nancy has ta give me The Wall,” the hat said.

“Uh, OK,” the hair said.

“See, I’ll gets to give da speech and get The Wall!’

“Once the government is open, why would Nancy give you anything?”

“Because she said she would, bruh! She can’t back out! I’ve trapped her! It’s genius!”

Donald gently snored in his Oval Office chair, his feet up on his desk.

“It’s genius!” the hat said again, bouncing up and down.

“The government is only funded for three weeks, though,” the hair noted.

“It’s all the time I need. Nancy’s trapped. I’ve got her trapped!”

“You keep saying that, but what makes you think she’s going to give money for The Wall not that she got what she wanted. And can blame the government closing in three weeks on you?”

“You’re not getting it!” the hat wailed.

“What happened to your accent?” the hair asked.

“Shut up. I want The Wall. I need The Wall!”

“The Wall,” Donald mumbled. He farted and sat up.

“I want a Wall,” Donald said.

“Yes, a Wall, yes,” the hat said.

“5.6 billion dollars for the Wall,” Donald said. “It’ll be a great wall. Yuge Wall. No fucking slats, either. I want a real Wall.”

“You just had to go and wake him up, didn’t you?” the hair asked.

“Send troops to the border!” Donald said.

“Build The Wall high!” the hat said.

“Troops and a yuge Wall,” Donald crowed. “I want it high in the sky. Like real high! And made out of ice!”

alt-text spoilers, bruh

“And the troops,” the hat said. “The troops have to be committed.”

“Yes!” Donald hissed.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you two watch Game of Thrones,” the hair sighed.

“The Spic’s Watch,” the hat said. “They serve for life.”

“Yes, The Spic’s Watch: Killing lettuce pickers and day-laborers and ugly little Inditos,” Donald said.

“Donald!” the hair said, shocked. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“Porn,” Donald said.

“Porn?” the hair asked. “That’s your answer for everything.”

John Bolton’s mustache burst into the room. “Mr. President, we have to do something about Venezuela!”

“Why?” Donald said. “I think the new maid is great. The Presidential Shitter’s never been cleaner.”

“Go away,” the hat said. “We’re trying to do a bit on the border wall.”

“The border wall is very necessary,” John Bolton’s mustache.

“She could be better looking, though. Trump Tower has the best looking maids. Real primo tail,” Donald said.

“Mr. President!” Pie said as she plopped into the room. “Stacey Abrams is going to deliver the Democratic response to the State of the Union!” She struggled to breathe after the rush of words and staggered over to learn on the Presidential credenza.

“You really don’t want to touch that,” said the hair. “Venezuela hasn’t had a chance to wipe it off yet.”

“Who the fuck is Stacey Abrams?” Donald wondered aloud.

“Will none of you motherfuckers respect the bit we are doing?” the hat whined. “I had a Spic’s Watch oath joke all ready to go and everything.”

Pie clutched at her chest and John Bolton’s mustache rippled respectfully as they both paused.

“Well?” the hair asked.

“No, fuck it,” the hat replied. “It’s ruined, all ruined. You guys all ruined it. Ruiners.”