Satire The Trump Dig

Dinner with the T-Rump …

The Tyrumposaurus let loose a blood-curdling yell. Dinner time. A moment later the Cryingchuck and the Nancypelosionyx arrived. …

The Tyrumposaurus let loose a blood-curdling yell. Dinner time. A moment later the Cryingchuck and the Nancypelosionyx arrived. The Cryingchuck was a distant genus of the Humorvor Amyschumerus dinosaur and, like the Nancypelosionyx, was a Sub Family member of the Donkeykongrus. The Nancypelosionyx was a well-respected, hard-charging Rheumatoidian Arthritisan dino.

With the T-Rump, they gathered around the business at hand. The Cryingchuck couldn’t help but notice.

“Where are the Mnuchinmunchkin and the Mitchgetbacktowork?

The prehistoric hedgehog and the Kentucky Gobbler were key advisers to the T-Rump.

“I’ve accomplished more with you two in one week than I have with them in six months. Now then, who would like to cut the Taxbeast?”  

“Cut” was a euphemism in dino-talk for gutting the kill with a quick flick of the wrist.

“Forgive me,” the T-Rump said to the Nancypelosionyx in a once-every-100-years display of Trumpassic chivalry. “Ladies first.”

“Ooh, it looks complicated.” She put her claw on the Taxbeast’s belly. “Lower?”

“Lower,” said the Cryingchuk. “That would be the popular deduction.”

“Look at the interest,” said the T-Rump. “Big interest. This is big business.”

The Nancypelosionyx stopped in mid-cut.

“I thought this was individual, like just for me.”

The T-Rump leaned forward.

“Now that the introductions are over, I’m taking the business end of the Taxbeast. Them’s the breaks. Thank you very much. ”

And with that the T-Rump hoisted most of the Taxbeast before him.

“What’s next?” he asked between mouthfuls of the savory cuts.

“Well,” said the Cryingchuck, “we need to reauthorize the F.A.A.”

“Free  Archaeopteryx Aviation? Not so fast. Not so free. They need to stop flying over the oval dwelling during my nap. What a racket!”

“And then there’s the Dacadreamers,” said the Nancypelosionyx. “T-Rump, we can’t have these poor Latinonachos building your Great Tex-Mex Divide if they want to stay in the Milkanhoney Preservation.”

The T-Rump snorted, then chewed and gnawed on his Taxbeast. He chewed and gnawed some more. He swallowed hard and cast a smart, smug, all-knowing gaze at the Cryingchuck and the Nancypelosionyx.

“You know what this means?” The T-Rump cocked his head back and roared at the top of his lungs.


By David Belisle

I'm a novelist and screenwriter in search of the Great Guffaw. It's kind of like getting hit with a bucket of Gatorade. It's a good time that sticks with you.

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