“What is it?” the hair asked.

“I have no idea,” the hat replied. “But I don’t like it.”

Donald had stumbled in moments before with a giant McDonald’s bag dark with grease and dropped the hair and the intruder on the Resolute desk before locking himself in the Presidential Shitter without a word.

The hair crept forward on the desk and sniffed cautiously.

“SPACE!” the Space hat said suddenly, his voice rich and sonorous. The hair yelped and jumped off the desk.

“Another one?” the MAGA hat said disdainfully, narrowing his eyes with the round of ripping cotton.

“Space is the true home of all Real Americans,” Space hat said. “Space, in fact, is America, a new frontier for the brave and the hardy to conquer.”

“It’s OK,” MAGA hat said to the hair. “He won’t hurt you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” the hair said, climbing into Donald’s office chair. “Just startled, that’s all.” He rose up and peeked at Space hat over the edge of the desk.

“And,” the Space hat said loudly, ”Space is a better America, no pesky Indians to complain about our expansion into it.”

“What about aliens?” the hair asked.

“Americans are going into space,” Space hat replied smoothly. “Mexicans are staying here.”

MAGA hat giggled. “OK, I like him.” The hair jumped on to the desk but skittered over carefully to sit beside MAGA hat.

“Join SPACE FORCE today,” Space hat said. “Get an American-made laser gun made in America by Americans in low orbit over America in an American-made factory.”

“Laser gun?” MAGA hat asked excitedly.

“It is every American’s duty to go into space,” Space hat said. “Space will be the Real American Hajj. Fuck the Grand Canyon. SPACE!”

“Go back to the laser gun,” MAGA hat demanded.

“Top America scientists, working with top American science, are working on them right now,” Space hat said confidently. “Once all Americans–real Americans, that is–are in space, we will colonize the Moon and then Mars and then Venus and then the asteroid belt and then mighty Jupiter!”

“And Saturn?” the hair asked.

“I guess so,” Space hat said.

“What about Earth?” MAGA hat asked.

“Earth will be left the non-real Americans, the poor and the academic and the brown and the fictional,” Space hat said. “Our future will be mighty because it will be built by the mighty!”

The door to the Presidential Shitter opened forcefully and Donald stuck out his bald head. “Will you all please be quiet?!? I’m trying to get some eating done in here!”

“Stop eating on the toilet, Donald!” the hair said. “That’s why you keep getting pink eye in your mouth!”

Donald snorted and slammed the door.

“America,” Space hat said in awe. “Can you imagine him in SPACE?”

“No, not really,” the hair said.

“So majestic,” Space hat said. “Like the prow of a stately sailing ship. Leading us into… SPACE!” He began to hum Neil Diamond’s “America.”

“He kinda sounds like an old filmstrip from school,” the hair said to the hat.

“When did you go to school?” MAGA hat asked.

“With Donald. Hello? I’m his hair. He had hair in school, ya know.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“SPACE!” Space hat said to no one.

“I was so thick back then,” the hair said. “I couldn’t move around or anything, but, you know, I didn’t really even want to. I was content in his healthy scalp.”

“Are you gentleman discussing space?” Space hat asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” MAGA hat said.

“You know, the 4th of July is comin’ up,” USA hat said from the umbrella stand.

“SHUT UP,” MAGA hat and the hair yelled in unison.

“In space, every day is the Fourth of July,” Space hat said confidently.