The two Langleytips dinosaur investigators, the Jayedgarhoofinmouth and the Blesselliotness, looked at each other and frowned. Their good cop-bad cop routine with the Carterpagealpha had run its course. So confused, they’d forgotten who was playing which cop.
The supposed bad cop, Jayedgarhoofinmouth, paused to reconsider the Carterpagealpha’s profile. The quadrupedal carnivore was a mega-scavenger, an early forerunner of the Hyena Hystericale. He could laugh and cry at the same time and voice the odd maniacal roar, all instinctive defense mechanisms. But while the Carterpagealpha might appear jovial, he was deeply neurotic. His wide, panicky eyes constantly searched the surroundings for low-lying, predatory Kayjeebeeops. It was the age-old dinosaur survival issue of C’mere-Oh-no!-Get-away! and it manifested itself daily, from bad dreams to simple conversation.
As a young dino, while playing games with the other dino tots, the Carterpagealpha always wanted to be “it.” When confronted on this, he would explain, “Thank you for playing. You did however, choose to play with me. Now, try to follow my eyes because I’m one kuh-ray-zee dino — and I’m IT.” It became most hypnotizing. The Carterpagealpha’s circle of friends gradually diminished as they migrated elsewhere, complaining of nausea and headaches.
The same headaches now heaped upon the two Langleytips dinos. They would soldier on. The well-being of the Milkanhoney Preservation demanded it.
“One more time, Carter,” the Jayedgarhoofinmouth snarled. “Did you meet with the Dvorovichnich?”
“Define meeting,” said Carter, pausing to look cross-eyed at an ant on his snout. “Actually, I would categorize it as something between a seating, a greeting and a fleeting glimpse … like I once had of spending more time in the Harvard Highlands, talking about future dinosaur energy.”
“Right,” said the Blesselliotness, with the eye roll of eye rolls. “What about your status with the T-Rump gathering. Were you a volunteer, unpaid, informal, unofficial? What was your role?”
“That’s a tough one.”
The two investigators groaned, each wheezing heavily.
“You see, while I’ve been to the Moscovian Bluffs and know dinosaurs who know other dinosaurs who know the Putinodon, I am only a lowly Ankylosaurus advisor to the T-Rump.”
“Aha!” exclaimed the Jayedgarhoofinmouth. “You’re no ankylosaurus. That’s an armored dinosaur. Where’s your armor?”
“Right here.” The Carterpagealpha pointed unabashedly to his heart. He could tell by the looks on the Langleytips dinos’ faces however, they weren’t buying it. “I’m sorry, did I say Ankylosaurus? I meant to say the Ankle-high Gargoyle. He feigned a couple of snaps. There was no such dinosaur.
This was too much for the Jayedgar G-dino.
“Enough of this hoof-in-mouth diarrhea!”
“Goodness, me,” said Carter. “But that does remind me of when I was visiting the Manaforta at his Brooklyn Brown Stones.”
The Langleytips dinos locked eyes briefly. Could this be their big break? Should they venture down this path of inquiry? … They shook their heads. It wasn’t worth it. Better to continue with the missing link before them. The Carterpagealpha continued.
“It was last year or the year before. I can vouch for one but not the other. I don’t want to say something I can’t remember. It was all part of my Frequent Wanderlust Miles …”
“Stop. Just stop,” said the Blesselliotness. “We’re not going down that road. You can’t take us there …”
“I was giving speeches,” said Carter. “Thought provoking, very meaningful. I had a standing ovation. I mean, invitation. That still made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I almost forgot the Kayjeebeeops were there. Did I tell you that I told every T-Rump reptile, snake and ne’er-do-well about these meetings?”
“Standing invitation, huh?” said the Jayedgarhoofinmouth. “Who invited you?”
“I was just invited.”
“That does it. We could let you roam through the T-Rump’s typical haunts but the Blessedelliotness and I want to enjoy our remaining years. No, Carter, we’re going to release you into the Whackadoodle Wilds where you can frolic with other like-minded, loose-witted dinosaurs.”
“Like-minded dinosaurs? Like me? But that’s impossible. Look, I’m here of my own free will to tell you about my days … in the Cambridge Sage. Yes, let’s go there.”
“No, let’s–” The Jayedgarhoofinmouth stopped in mid-sentence. The opening to the interrogation cavern had been darkened by another dinosaur. It was the Tyrumposaurus, clearing his throat, exhaling an impressive puddle of saliva.
“I am pardoning the Carterpagealpha. Because I can. So there.”
“Already?” said the Blesselliotness. “But why?”
“It’s a surprise. Now make like a moolah-moolah tree and leave.”
The Langleytips dinos sullenly raised their tails to the T-Rump and exited the cavern, leaving the leader of the walnut-brained world with the nervous Carterpagealpha. The hyena-like dino couldn’t believe his good fortune, snickering into his paws, his eyes still frantically searching the corners for Kaygeebeeops. He finally put a paw in his mouth to stop. He opened his mouth again, sans paw.
“It’s a — it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. What would you like me to say?”
“Hold that thought, Pageboy. Here’s what you’re going to do for me. I’m most impressed with your gift for obscu– …. oscbu– …
“Obfuscation.”
“What you said, yes. Great word. Just great. Now, my followers believe — mistakenly or not — that some of my Trollertweety messages may prove to be troublesome later. I want you to read my messages before I send them. You know, to give them that, uh …”
“Obfuscative tweak?”
“Great word. The public will never know what they’re hearing. Nor should they.”
“So you want me to muddle things.”
“Muddle? Oh, yes. Meddle? Never.”
David Belisle 