Satire The Trump Dig

A, Like, Really Smart Solution …

The Tyrumposaurus and his motley dinosaur crew tackle another day at the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir.

“All rise.”

The dinosaurs gathered around the flat, circular rock tablet rose as one.

“Now sit.”

The dino crowd promptly sat.

“Rise again,” said the smiling Tyrumposaurus. “I love doing this. Okay, sit.”

He was exercising his power. Because he could. The morning meeting with two dozen dinosaurs in the Oval Dwelling included Grandoldparty and Donkeykongrus dinos, all there to discuss the Big Issue. The T-Rump and his governing cronies were running out of moolah-moolah leaves. They had to make a decision on that, the Dacadreamers, new dinosaur migration routes and what to do with the T-Rump’s greatest campaign promise, the Great Tex-Mex Divide.

The Mercedeschlapper, the T-Rump’s latest chief strategist, jumped to her feet.  

“At the end of the day, the T-Rump will solve this problem! He will, you just watch!”

“Thank you, Mercedes,” the T-Rump said with a sideways smirk. “Yes, I will solve everything today because I am, like, really smart. My walnut is just a little bit bigger than the rest of yours. Who am I kidding? A lot bigger. Don’t ask me how I know. I just know that I am a stable genius. Look at how my hind legs support me.

He rocked back and forth on his legs for good measure.

“Very stable.”

The Marinegunkelly stayed close behind him as a precautionary measure.

“My opening remarks have put you all well on your way to figuring this all out. I expect results. Because I’m, like, really smart.”

The Mercedeschlapper jumped up.

“Correction, by lunchtime, the T-Rump will solve this problem.”

“Thank you, again, Mercedes. I hope your husband appreciates you. I really do.”

The Mercedeschlapper blushed.

“Now then,” he said. “Where was I? Stephen? That must be your cue.”

The Stephenmillerus leaned forward, set his jaw and stared down his nose at as many Donkeykongrus dinos he could in a single snort.

“In case you forgot, I destroyed that left-wing, liberal lamebrain Jaketapper the other day and …”

“You ignoramus,” said the T-Rump.

Sub Family of the ignoramus,” corrected the Stephenmillerus.

“Not that,” said the T-Rump, “We’re her to discuss the, uh …” He turned to the Mercedeschlapper and got lost in her headlights.

“The Big Issue, T-Rump,” said the Marinegunkelly.

“Hey,” said the Stephenmillerus, “I’m leading the discussion here, thank you very much. I outrank you.”

“Excuse me?” The Marinegunkelly snarled and pawed the ground.

“Don’t crack a scale. I’m talking seniority. I was here when you were still suffering from P.T.S.”

“Hmph. I never suffered from post traumatic stress.”

“No. Political Type Stuff.”

“You too?” said the T-Rump.

The Luisgutierrez, a Chicagoland Donkeykongrus pointed a claw at the Marinegunkelly.

“You lied. You promised the Mexicodino Dacadreamers could stay.”

The T-Rump brightened.

“The dreamers! You know … the uh, dinos … and their dreams.”

There was a hush. The dinosaurs all gaped slack-jawed at their leader. This was of course the Mercedeschlapper’s cue.

“Any minute now, the T-Rump will solve this problem.”

“You don’t have to be so specific,” said the T-Rump. A worried frown from her.

“And?” he said.

“You’re, like, really smart.” She finished with a flourish.

The Stephenmillerus was not about sweetness however. He sized up the Marinegunkelly.

“You lied to the Luisgutierrez.”

“He’s a Donkeykongrus.”

“I don’t care if he’s Hezbollan-Ayatollan. The Jaketapper was just a tune-up. We haven’t had some good infighting in two days. I am dinosaur. Hear me roar!”

It was a half-roar at best, followed by a whine, a sniffle, and his awkward half-chuckle. Audio difficulties aside, he charged at the Marinegunkelly. Twice his age but twice as wise, the elder chief of staff stuck out his foot, sending the Stephenmillerus sprawling into a tall stack of rocks. The highest rock, a foot wide, flipped off the top, landing on the Stephenmillerus’ head.


A baseball-sized lump sprang from his bald noggin.

“That’s it!” said the T-Rump.

“He solved it!” shouted the Mercedeschlapper, giddily jumping up and down. “The T-Rump solved it!”

“Of course I did. But hear me out any way. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re all going down to the Great Tex-Mex Divide.”

“Then what?” asked the Stephenmillerus.

“We’re going to use your head.”

“Well, heh-heh … what can I say? I’m honored you’re finally acknowledging my expertise.”

“I said your head.”

“I, uh … don’t understand.”

“You and the Marinegunkelly are going to fight a pitched battle beside a stack of rocks. There will be a nice long line of Dacadreamers there.”

The T-Rump placed his claw on the Stephenmillerus’ shoulder.

“Look, just because you’re a loser doesn’t make you a loser.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The Marinegunkelly is a veteran. He’s a winner. You, on the other hand.”

“A loser,” the Stephenmillerus repeated, as if taking an oath.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said the T-Rump. “That means all the time, now. Before he throws you into the stack of rocks, the next Dacadreamer in line calls out if the top rock is going to land top side or bottom side up. If they’re correct, they get to stay in the Milkanhoney Preservation. If they’re wrong, they move in with the Mexicodinos and pay 100 moolah-moolah leaves for the Great Tex-Mex Divide. Am I stable genius or what?”

“What about my head?” The Stephenmillerus gently massaged his large bump and winced.

But the T-Rump had already forgotten about him. The leader of the Trumpassic Period turned to the Mercedeschlapper.

“You know, I can have you hide behind a rock right over there. Then I’ll meet with your husband a short distance away. I’ll talk about other lady dinosaurs with him. He may be a nice dino but I know you’ll be disappointed in what he says. Because, you know, I’m like …”

“Really smart?”

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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