“I don’t understand why we have to say inside,” the hat whined.

“Donald must be protected from re-infection,” the hair said, not even looking away from the laptop he was bingeing The Crown on.

“I mean us,” the hat asked.

“Do I need to pause this?” the hair asked.

“I’m just wondering,” the hat said.

“OK, OK, I’ll pause it,” the hair sighed and fumbled at the laptop.

“You don’t have to do that,” the hat said.

“No, no,” the hair said, jumping from the TV chair to the desk. “I’ve stopped enjoying myself so that we can have this talk. So talk.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” the hat said.

“No, no,” the hair said. “The episode was almost over, but I’ve already paused it. So let’s talk.”

“I didn’t know it was almost the end of the episode,” the hat said.

“You said we were going to watch this together, but you didn’t want that.”

“Claire Foy creeps me out,” the hat said quietly.

“So what did you want to talk about?” the hair asked, settling down on the desk.

“I was just saying that I want to go outside,” the hat said.

“Where do you want to go?” the hair asked with a flat affect. “All the hat stores are closed and most grocery stores are out of fruit and vegetables and bulk bean bins for you to molest.”

“I want to scoop them up,” the hat admitted. “Get used like I’m an erotic ladle.” The hat shivered with once and future pleasure.

“Well, we can’t do any of that right now,” the hair said.

“I’m bored!” the hat said. “Let’s go on an adventure!”

“We’re stuck inside,” the hair said as if he were talking to a small child. “We can’t go on an adventure right now.”

The hat glared at him as he walked off the edge of the desk and dropped onto the floor.

“Don’t start watching that show again,” the hat implored. “Stay here and talk to me!”

“Figure out how to entertain yourself!” the hair shot back.

Bald and in filthy underwear, Donald burst into the Oval Office. “I have had a vision!” he announced. The hat cheered and the hair groaned.

“The ghost of Reagan spoke to me,” Donald said excitedly. “He said I should fire all the striking Amazon workers. Fire them for America!”

“You don’t have the authority to do that, Donald,” the hair said wearily.

“Who says?” Donald asked.

“Yeah, who says?” the hat asked as well.

“Fine, do what you want!” the hair said and turned on his show.

“For America!” Donald shouted again.