Today’s bones point to a closed oval dwelling meeting between the T-Rump and his closest followers. This included the Bannonesia, a bird-like theropod that had escaped mention until now. He tended to avoid the Mediacircustops. The Bannonesia’s scientific name is Bannonesia Bibe, which translates literally to “Banana Daiquiri.” It’s also possible that the Bannonesia is really just an Ornerysourpuss.
This meeting came on heels of the disaster at the Charlottesville Divide and, based on recent improvements in Psycho-Osteo Brainstem-Stammering, the gathering went something like this.
“We need to send a clear message that will not alienate our dinosaur base,” said the Bannonesia.
“I’m sorry,” said the T-Rump. “Are we talking about the Psychonazisaurs and the Peacepicnix?”
“We should refer to them as the Sub Family Altrightraptors. Oh, and T-Rump?
“Yes?”
“The Peacepicnix aren’t in a Sub Family even close to us.”
“Oh.”
There was knock outside the oval dwelling. This would be a dinosaur banging his tail against the side of the cave.
The T-Rump Jr. went to check it out. He returned shortly.
“Who is it?” asked the T-Rump.
“The Gayblackinus.”
“Not again,” said the Bannonesia.
The Gayblackinus was an ostrich-like theropod wanting to take part in the daily oval dwelling meetings. The Gayblackinus was also the main prey of the Altrightraptors.
“I told him he could mention my name,” said the T-Rump.
“And that is all,” said the Bannonesia. “I mean, look at him. He’s got a small head, a beak with no teeth and his neck is too long. His eyes are too large and they’re on the side of his head. So, no, he doesn’t have binocular vision. C’mon, dinosaurs, he’s got short arms.”
The Merckeus turned to the Intellidon.
“But we all have short arms.”
The Bannonesia continued.
“Did I say he has small hands too?”
“That’s it,” said the Merckeus. “I’ve had enough of this. My family has been roaming these parts for 20 millions years and I’ve never heard of such nonsense. A dinosaur is a dinosaur is a dinosaur. I will take the Vow of Herbivoreum before I listen to one more syllable from this banana split.”
“Daiquiri,” said the Bannonesia.
The Merckeus headed for the exit.
“Me too,” said the Intellidon.
“Me three, said the Underarmourhorna.
“Call me the quorum,” said the Alliansaurus.
“What’s that?” asked the T-Rump.
“That was half our Sub Family Manufactrus,” said the frowning Bannonesia.
The four Manufactrus left the meeting with their snouts held high. Their void was quickly filled by a stampede of Mediacircustops. The T-Rump shook his head.
“Doesn’t anybody bang their tail any more?”
“T-Rump,” hollered one of the Mediacircustops. “What do you have to say about the Altrightraptors?”
“Are you going to mention them by name, T-Rump?” demanded another Mediacircustops. “Is the Gayblackinus safe?”
The T-Rump turned to the Bannonesia, who shook his head and gave a low, guttural grunt, the early origins of the dog whistle.
“Right,” said the T-Rump. “Gather round. Listen, the weather is great. None of those white fluffy things for I don’t know how long. This is the greatest weather the world has ever seen.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said the Mediacircustops in dismissive unison. They turned to leave.
“Wait!” said the T-Rump. “I’m seriously thinking of inviting the Sheriffjovenator for a game of flog. Remember him? From Zonapinkshortz? All hail the Sheriffjovenator! He’s a good ol’ dino. That’s news. Great news. Isn’t it?”
David Belisle 