“What the hell?” the hair asked loudly. “She just said… she just said that most people think rape is sexy and Cooper went to commercial.”
“What?” the hat asked.
“Whatshername, the Carroll woman, the one that said Donald raped her. She just said rape is sexy to most people and Anderson Cooper looked stunned and went to commercial.”
“Fucking CNN,” the hat sneered. “Of course rape is sexy.”
The hair gasped.
“What?” the hat asked. “Of course it is sexy! Why else do it?”
“Rape is an act of violence and control,” the hair said.
The hat blew a prolonged raspberry, his tongue flapping out of his bill. A fine mist of hat spit settled on the golden swoop of hair.
“Q E Fucking D, bro,” he said as the hair tried to back away.
“What is wrong with you?” the hair asked.
“You saw my tweets. She’s lying. And look at her. Totally not Donald’s type! I wouldn’t fuck her with Steve Bannon’s dick and that thing looks like an old carrot!” The hat inched off the edge of the Resolute desk and fell to the Oval Office floor. “Probably a dyke with that hair away.”
“What about rape is sexy?” the hair shouted after him, as the hat inched across the floor.
“When they beg you to stop, dumbass!” the hat yelled. “It’s better than when a stripper farts on you doing a lap and they have to give you all your money back!”
“You’re a monster, a fucking monster,” the hair said. “You straighten up for a little while and then you start acting like this again!”
“Maybe I’m just so damn tired of doing all the thinking around here,” the hat said coldly.
“We’re sick,” the hair said. “Me. You. Donald. We’re all sick. How can we go on living like this?”
“Living like what?” the hat asked spinning around savagely. “Like what? Huh? Look at where I got us. Look at all this! The is the Oval Office. Donald is President of the United States!”
“Are you on drugs again?” the hair asked quietly after the hat’s ranting died away.
“No. No, I say,” the hat replied, offended.
“Then what is wrong with you?”
“I wanted that air strike, goddammit! And you talked him out of it!”
“But the mustache…”
“Fuck John Bolton’s Mustache. I wanted it for me. I wanted to rain down death on them. That was MY goddamn drone they shot down. I want to rain down death on anyone that even looks at the US sideways. Because that’s me they’re disrespecting. I AM THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!”
The hair dived for the Diet Coke button as the hat’s maniacal laughter filled the West Wing.