Satire The Trump Dig

Tell T-Vanka I Love Her Dad …

The Tyvankanatrix gazed up at the starry, moonlit night, her deep sniffs broken by the occasional hitching, honking sob. …

The Tyvankanatrix gazed up at the starry, moonlit night, her deep sniffs broken by the occasional hitching, honking sob. A gallon-sized tear spilled down her shimmering, scaly face, splashing beside her big feet.

“Oh, Jared, my Jared,” wherefore art thou?”

Her beloved Kushneratops however, was many miles away, hiding in a corner of the Intentionally Unnamed Den in the Valley of the Shrouded Veil. He sat there mumbling over and over his latest catch-phrase from the previous day’s journey through the very valley next door.

“Yet even though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Depositions, I shall fear no Muellersavus.”

There was a rustling in the dark. The sound of panting. And fear.

“Is that you, Kush?”

“T-Rump Jr.? How did you find me?”

“Remember that targeting strategy you came up with during the campaign? The one where you marked a tree beside every T-Rump supporter? Well, the trail led straight here.”

“One of my few shining moments,” the  Kushneratops said with a sigh.

The dank, pitch black darkness of the cave enveloped the two dinosaurs. The T-Rump Jr. finally spoke.

“The T-Vanka’s been asking about you. Is there anything you want me to tell her? I mean, that won’t get us all in trouble?”

“Tell her … tell her that when I’m feeling down I think of the speech she gave on the tax middle-aged dinosaurs place on their health by stampeding three times a day. … And I hope she’s having success with her new lady dino beauty tip, you know, the face-plant mud baths.”

“Sure. Anything else?”

“Not off hand I can think of. I’ve pretty much kept to myself in this godforsaken cave the past month. No dinosaur contact, no companionship, no emotion.”


“Well, now that you mention it. Yeah, tell T-Vanka I love her father.”

“Of course. Still trying to make brownie points, even after marrying my sister. You don’t give up, Kush. … I remember when you two first met. The T-Rump told you to run away and hide.”

“Just like last month. So, bring me up to speed. Anything exciting going on?”

“No, just the usual. I can’t remember more than two days ago, so I’ll start there. The Mediacircustops are up in arms because I had a whopping three conversations with the Wikileakibeak. The Sessionsopussum continues to stay one step behind the Mediacircustops. The Judgeroymoore was caught chasing Candystripertypes out of season and the Mitchgetbacktowork wants the Sessionsopussum to replace Judgeroymoore to keep the Grandoldpartysaurus alive and kicking. Finally, the T-Rump just got back from his Maidenasia trip where he kissed the Chopstickchowmein’s tail up and down. The T-Rump of course can’t say boo about Judgeroymoore because there’s a long line of Pushmepullyou gals just waiting to pile on him.

“The same ol’ same ol’,” said the Kushneratops. “I miss it, all that same.”

“Yeah. We’re just one big happy family, aren’t we? So why are 67% of dinosaurs against us? I mean, look at the Romanovenators — a regular dynasty from the Moscovian Bluffs.”

“Oh, really?” said the Kushneratops. “How’d it work out for them?”

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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