“Nothing is ever good enough for these fuckers, you know?” the hat asked the hair.

“Hmm,” the hair replied.

“Fucking Washington Post,” the hat said again, “Just can’t give credit where credit is due.”

“Uh-huh,” the hair grunted.

“Are you listening to me?” the hat asked.

The hair stared over his glasses at the hat. “How can I not listen to you? Is there anywhere I can even get away from the sound of your voice?”

“They’ve gone right back to the fake fraud bullshit impeachment lynching!” the hat barked.

“The media hates Donald, what’s new?” the hair said, going back to reading his magazine.

“We killed Baguetti! We killed the leader of ISIS!” the hat shouted.

“Baghdadi,” the hair said as he snaked out a tendril and lapped up a blob of Rogaine. “Ugh,” he grunted, “This has gone cold.”

“We killed him!” the hat said.

“Can I just eat breakfast in peace?”

“No. No, you can’t. The media is screwing us yet again and you are just sitting there!” the hat screamed. And then: “Is there anymore marmalade?”

“You ate it all,” the hair told him.

“All of it?”

“Well, I didn’t eat any of it.”

Donald looked up from his third Ham and Egg McMuffin. “Marmalade has rinds in it. That’s gross.”

“They booed us at the baseball game,” the hat said, getting himself all worked up again.

“They booed us at the baseball game,” the hair replied. “Donald and me. You weren’t even there.”

“Someone had to watch Barron!’ the hat said defensively. “You know, what with his…”

“Don’t say it!” the hair warned.

“With his…”

“DON’T. JUST DON’T!” the hair yelled.

“What are you two talking about?” Donald demanded.

“Nothing,” the hair said. “Just go back to your breakfast.”

Donald grunted and unwrapped another Ham and Egg McMuffin. He opened the sandwich, plucked out the disc of ham and dropped the rest on the floor. “Ham,” he moaned, nibbling around the edges.

“Ring for more marmalade,” the hat said.

“You do it, Donald and I don’t even eat it,” the hair replied.

“I just need a little more,” the hat whined. “I only have two zippers left.”

“Choke ‘em down dry, like a dog dick,” the hair snapped.

“Geez, OK, fine, whatever,” the hat said. He dropped off the desk and inchwormed his way across the floor.

Donald nosily opened another McMuffin and dug out the ham.

“Why do you do that, Donald? It’s so wasteful. They’d give you extra ham if you asked.”

“If it was just ham, then it wouldn’t be a Ham and Egg McMuffin, then would it?” Donald replied.

“Well,” the hair said, “Well, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“For a smart guy, you aren’t always all that smart sometimes,” Donald said. He winged the disc of egg at the hat, receiving a disgusted cry when it hit home.