Yankeewhite Security …

The Yankeewhite nibbled nervously on a Caviaraptor leg. He shouldn’t be here. He was the top Trumpassic security dinosaur, in charge of determining which dinos should be holding court with the Tyrumposaurus. Surrounded by over 100 dinosaurs at the T-Rump’s latest Meet and Cheat in the Oval Dwelling, the Yankeewhite knew 99% of these plodding putzes did not have proper clearance.

There were three levels of rigid security the Yankeewhite enforced. The highest was level one, official designation as a T-Rump Whisperer. Virtual all-day access to the T-Rump’s highly impressionable ear. The next level was Pain in the Ass, for which the holder was allowed and or required to stand five feet from the T-Rump to receive his verbal abuse. Strangely, the Sessionsopossum appeared to relish this clearance level. Level three was Hanger On. At this level, a dino could only be seen and heard if they spoke highly of T-Rump. Or carried his bloodline.

The Yankeewhite despised the new normal. It seemed all you had to do to get in the Oval Dwelling and have a seat at the T-Rump table was commit a crime. The Yankeewhite had had enough. He was going to expose them all. Just as soon as he finished this juicy Caviaraptor leg. Slurp. Crunch. Slurp.

“Yankeewhite!”

Damn. Not fast enough. He licked his claws and turned to see the T-Rump coming his way with the Tyvanka, the Kushneratops, the Stephenmillerus, the Marinegunkelly and the recently disgraced Robporter in tow.

“Join the party,” said T-Rump. “Who are you, the Comenyonus? … Way over her trying to blend in with a sagebush.”

“Which one, Fortyone or Fortythree?”

“You security dinos. I have no idea what you’re talking about. So, you must have something good to say about the Robporter here.”

The Robporter stood with his jaw firmly set, his brown eyes staring smartly, resolutely ahead, projecting his nine-to-five professional mindset. Outside that time period he’d tossed around two ex-wives and a girlfriend.

“I’m sorry,” said the Yankeewhite. “Didn’t you just resign?”

“Sure,” said the T-Rump, “but that doesn’t make him a bad dino.”

“That one ex-wife looked pretty banged up.”

The T-Rump frowned.

“Look, I just told the Mediacircustops I abhor domestic violence. If you think I’m going to say that line again in the next six months … Never.”

“I’d go to war with this guy,” the Marinegunkelly said, nodding toward the Robporter.

“Actually,” said the Yankeewhite, “you needed to come to the ex-wive’s defense.”.

T-Rump harrumphed at this impasse, blaming the Donkeykongrus.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get to what’s really important here.”

A rare raised eyebrow from the Robporter at his sudden demotion from dino-of-the-hour.

“The T-Vanka and Jared here,” said the T-Rump. “It’s been delay, delay, delay like the world has never seen. They’re already whispering top secret stuff in my ear, so let’s just make it official.”

The T-Vanka and the Kushneratops smiled their respective sexy and schoolboy grins. the T-Vanka felt compelled to say something to the Yankeewhite.

“Were you named after a racist?”

He ignored her.

“I’m sorry, T-Rump. Your relatives have, ahem … issues. Let’s not forget the hundred dinos here without proper security clearance. One hundred.”

“I know. It’s great isn’t it? Who wants a government that always toes the line? These are my friends. They know me, I don’t know them. And that’s just fine. Less collateral damage. But hey, if you can approve this guy …”

The T-Rump nodded toward the Stephenmillerus, whose smirk accidentally escaped. Awkward. The leader of the dino world turned back to the Yankeewhite.

“Well, are you going to be loyal or what?”

“T-Rump.” The Marinegunkelly winced. “Stop saying that.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He eyed the Yankeewhite with a wry grin. “So, who did you vote for?”

The T-Rump looked at the Marinegunkelly.

“I’m kidding. You know I love it when you hold your head in your hands. It means I’m winning.”

The T-Rump turned back to the Yankeewhite … but the security dino was gone. Stealth was part of his job description.

There was a disturbance at the entrance to the Oval Dwelling.

“Yes,” said the T-Rump. “My adoring deplorables await.”

He stepped to the fore … and discovered they were not his loyal subjects. There squatting before him were all 16 of his sexual assault dino victims. The memories flooded back, splashing against a brick wall that dwarfed the Great Tex-Mex Divide.

“There you are, you domestic abuse bullhorn!” shouted one of the lady dinos. “What about us? We’re victims too! You abused us!”

“No, I didn’t. Lies, all lies. Fake news!”

He whistled and a six-pack security of gruff, Gryposaurus — minus security clearance — instantly appeared.  They herded the assault victims away, leaving the T-Rump, claws on hips, fuming, nostrils flaring, drool dripping.

“I knew this was going to happen! As soon as I say one liberal word, just one! Get the Michaelcohen in here. Now! And tell him to bring lotsa moolah-moolah leaves!  

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