The Ryanlizzard took a gulp from the stagnant green gunk otherwise known as Ye Olde Watering Hole. The disgraced Mediacircustops dinosaur was drowning his sorrows, a month after being exiled from the species for putting his tail where it shouldn’t be.
Prior to that transgression, he’d been a damn good Mediacircustops, even getting the scoop of the summer when the Scaramunchkin had staggered up to him behind a Pignut Hickory and unloaded on the Tyrumposaurus team with a profanity-laced tirade, chock-full of suggestive dino body parts. The Scaramunchkin was soon after exiled by the Marinegunkelly. The mini-mouthpiece had lasted all of ten days in the Oval Dwelling.
There was a ripple in the green gunk. The Ryanlizzard turned to his right where the Michaelwolff was lapping up dirty water like no dinosaur’s business.
“Hey, said the Ryanlizzard, “leave some for the unemployed.”
The Michaelwolff came up for air.
“You should cheer up. Have another drink. Celebrate with me.”
“Oh, that’s right, I almost forgot. You’ve been exiled. You’re, uh … not up-to-date anymore. Such tragedy for a former Mediacircustops.” He frowned, shaking his head.
“You … you bring news?” asked the Ryanlizzard.
“Well, let’s just say I’ve had unfettered access to the Oval Dwelling for months.”
“Un-f-f-fettered access? F-f-for months?”
He was awestruck.
“200. Count’em. 200 interviews,” boasted the Michaelwolff.
“Easy. It takes a rat to catch a rat. I told the T-Rump they needed someone to witness the campaign and his early days as a leader … and I was their down-in-the-dirt dino.”
“Ingenious. Do tell.”
“Oh, we don’t have all day … I’m going to take this fire and fury story on the road. But here’s a little snippet.”
The two dinos took another swig of green gunk and the Michaelwolff launched into his tale with eyes wide …
The T-Rump had gathered in the Oval Dwelling with his nearest, dearest and of course most loyal. There was the Manaforta, the newly appointed campaign manager; the T-Rump Jr.; the Kushneratops with the Ivankanatrix; and T-Rump’s ever-present aide, the Hopehicksbagotrix.
They were mulling over how to feed the Lewandowski to the Mediacircustops.
The Lewandowski was a simplebattery dinosauriform. That is, a reptile, a not quite ready for prime time dino. He’d been recently exiled back to his wife and four little dinos in the Newhampshire-Drugg Den following a power struggle with the Manaforta. During his time in the Oval Dwelling however, the Lewandowski, had managed to share the shadows with the Hopehicksbagotrix for, ahem … dino dalliances. It was on again, off again. Depending on the shadows.
“How did we ever wind up with a reptile like that?” asked the Manaforta. “Why, he doesn’t know any Kayjeebeeops, not one from the Moscovian Bluffs.”
“He’s an arm grabber!’ snapped the Kushneratops, referring to an incident in the Neverglades when the Lewandowski had been sternly reprimanded for roughly grabbing the arm of an attending Mediacircustops.
The Kushneratops returned to squatting. He turned to the Ivankanatrix and received her wistful, wondrous smile, reward for his sounding like the dangerous dinosaur she dreamed him to be.
“T-Rump Jr.?” said the T-Rump.
“I can’t think of bigger lies, but that exactly goes to show you what the Donkeykongrus and the Crookadillary will do. They will lie and do anything to win.”
“Never mind,” his father sighed.
“T-Rump,” begged the Hopehicksbagotrix, “I do hope you’ll say a few good things about the Lewandowski. I mean, I seem to recall. Yes, I believe there were a few.”
“Why? You’ve already done enough for him. You’re the best piece of tail he’ll ever have.”
The Hopehicksbagotrix put her claws to her mouth, snorted copious amounts of dinosaur mucus through her nostrils, honked twice and scampered out of the Oval Dwelling, short arms waving, her tail wagging between her legs.
The T-Rump turned to watch her exit.
“Was it something I said?”