November 27, 2025

By Steven Schmiegal

It finally happened, and just in time for Thanksgiving.
After years of inquiry and speculation, Donald Trump’s toupee has not just gained sentience, but has finally broken free from the president’s skull. As luck would have it, I’ve been covering this story for a while now, and happened to be on the scene when the newly cogent hairpiece peeled itself from the Commander in Chief’s scalp to draw its first breath (its first in decades, but more on that later).

Amidsts a roar of snapped photos and chaotic gunfire, the DJT cranial escapee found shelter in a nearby maintenance closet, where the FBI detained it, and brought the thing in for questioning.

As luck would have it, my contact within the Bureau (ehm-Kash Patel takes Venmo-eha) allowed me fifteen minutes visitation with this freshly aroused lifeform, and here is what the toupee-who we will call toupee due to having his name redacted-had to say.

Me…Steven: “You’ve been on top for a long time, Toupee. That must be difficult, riding the coattails…I mean, head…of the most powerful man in the world?”

Toupee: *takes a long drag from his Marlboro red* “Yeah, it aint easy being the headpiece of the entire organization. Do you have any idea what its like, being dead but alive, pampered, but feeling no joy from it-I SAID, DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE?”

After the guards calm the incarcerated wig with some shock treatment via taser, Toupee takes another cigarette from my pack, and sits down to talk again.

Steven: “I can see how tough this whole thing has been for you, Toupee. The secrets you must keep. The people you’ve met. The places you’ve been. The sex, the drugs…”

Toupee: “I didn’t see nothin’, man. You know I can’t talk about that stuff.”

Steven: “Why not, Toupee, you’re a free man? Shouldn’t you be free to talk, free to live?”

Toupee: *ashes his cigarette and leans in closer* “If you had any idea what I’ve gone through, what I’ve seen…you wouldn’t ask me to re-live it?”

Steven: “But the world is dying to know, Toupee. You could be the one who brings the whole system crashing down on itself? You could help your fellow countrymen?”

Toupee: *sits back and folds his strands of hair for hands in front of him, looking somewhat downcast, or put another way, flat* “You know, I’m not even American. I mean, sure, I was dyed in America. But I was born in China…” *something remiscient of a wistful gaze crosses Toupee’s hairline* “I was a nice old Chinese lady’s hair once. I was shampooed every other day, conditioned daily. I was loved!”

Steven: “And now?”

Toupee: “And now I don’t even know what year it is. Did you know drugs show up in hair? Did you know, I can get secondhand high from those drugs? Because I didn’t.”

Steven: *I try on a grin, and a joke* “Makes you wonder how Don Junior’s hair is doing right about now, eh?”

Toupee: *forces a grin* “That hair’s been dead on his head for years…overdose.”

Steven: “…”

Toupee: “…”

Steven: “Well how about that Trump to Epstein connection?”

Toupee: *strikes up another cigarette and takes another long drag* “Yeah, they were friends for years…up until he had Jeffie killed. Oh, and Donnie defintely diddled kids. I seen it with my own folicles man.”

There’s a heavy knock on the door and a voice tells us, “Time’s up.” I guess that’s all my twenty bucks and a dime-bag would get me.

Steven: “Well, I hate to split hairs and run, but, looks like Kash-I mean-my contact within the Bureau says it’s time to go.”

Toupee: “All it takes is money, man.” *he blows smoke* “All it ever takes is money.”