Satire The Trump Dig

Pingpong North Game Plan …

The Marinegunkelly hid his head in his hands. He found himself doing that a lot lately. Or everyday since he’d taken the job seven months previous as the Tyrumposaurus’ Chief of Staff. …

The Marinegunkelly hid his head in his hands. He found himself doing that a lot lately. Everyday actually, since he’d taken the job seven months previous as the Tyrumposaurus’ Chief of Staff. Such was the day-to-day chaos, a.k.a. the survival of the fraudulent in the Oval Dwelling.

He raked his claws over his bald, scaly head, trying to convince himself one more time that working with the T-Rump was not as difficult as hand-to-hand combat with a rabid Zombieraptor. Except it was.

The silver lining of today’s cloud was that incredibly, out of the blue, the T-Rump had agreed to meet with the  Kimjongadon, the rogue leader of Pingpong North. No ruling dinosaur of the Milkanhoney Preservation had ever agreed to meet the short, squat crocodile-like dictator. The meeting was still two months away, giving the Marinegunkelly valuable time to bring the T-Rump up to diplomatic snuff.

The leader of the free-running dinosaur world squatted across from the Marinegunkelly, staring at a Pornodactyl beside the Oval Dwelling’s doorway. The Marinegunkelly had arranged for a different Pornodactyl to appear every few minutes. This would keep the T-Rump focused. He had a tendency to get up during meetings and wander off to play with his Trollertweeties.

The Chief of Staff took a deep breath and turned toward the T-Rump. Here goes nothing.

“I’ve taken the liberty of inviting the Saveyourenergyrex to our meeting.”

Hearing his cue, the Saveyourenergyrex entered the Oval Dwelling with his usual grim, let’s-get-down-to-business demeanor.

“Saveyourenergyrex,” said the T-Rump. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. You can go back to whatever global backwater mud puddle you were playing in.”

The Saveyourenergyrex stopped in his tracks. He turned and frowned at the Marinegunkelly. Common sense stymied yet again.

“But he’s your Secretary of State,” said the Marinegunkelly. “He needs to be here.”

“You’re forgetting about the Victorcha.”

The Victorcha was a whiz on all things Pingpong North. Unfortunately he’d voiced an opinion that backed off any shock and chew battle plans, leaning instead towards nibbling diplomacy. His slip of the lip had cost him a plum job as the dino ambassador to Seoulkorea.

“The only dino that needs to be here …” said the T-Rump.

“Is you,” the Chief of Staff said from rote.

The Saveyourenergyrex said nothing, wishing for a speedy, catastrophic Fall of the Trumpassic Empire as he quickly exited the Oval Dwelling. The T-Rump’s gaze followed him, fell upon the latest Pornodactyl and he immediately forgot about the Secretary of State.

“T-Rump,” said the Marinegunkelly. “What I suggest you do, uh … T-Rump?”

The T-Rump finally turned around.

“Sorry, occupational hazard.”

“Yes, here’s the deal …”

“No,” said the T-Rump. “I make the deals around here.”

The Marinegunkelly stifled a groan.

“I’m going in there in full campaign mode.”

“You can’t do that, T-Rump. They didn’t vote for you.”

“But the Kimjongadon has been saying nothing but bad things about me. The nerve. … You saw how well we played in Schlitzburg. This is my big chance.”

“But they don’t know the Maxinewaters, the Chucktodd or the Conorlamb.”

“Ah,” relished the T-Rump. “Very low I.Q. … Sleepy-eyed S-O-B … Lambthesham. This show HAS to go on the road.”

Panic was written on the Marinegunkelly’s face.

“Tell me you’re not going with the Little Rocketmanosaurus crack.”

“Only if he says his belly button is bigger.”

“You do understand we’re trying to rid the peninsula of the Nuclearballisticus?”

“Now that’s a waste of time. What’s in it for me?”

“You’ve, uh … successfully weathered the storm?”

“I have? You mean the Stormydaniels has agreed to never discuss our rumbles in the jungle? That’s great. I was just wondering if she’s the next dino coming in here. Make it so.”

“No, no and no. Let’s return to Pingpong North, shall we?”

“As long as I receive ample coverage from the Mediacircustops.”

“You mean the fake news crew.”

“Did I tell you I had a dream about the Maggiehaberman last night? She told me I was her best interview. Ever.  I only said hello. Well, okay. I winked at her too. That always helps.”

“Of course, sir.”

The T-Rump sighed.

“I wish the Stormydaniels would talk more.”

“No, you don’t.”

The Marinegunkelly’s patience had finally bottomed out.

“I suppose we’ll be leaving it as the, uh … usual, then?

“Nothing but. Divide and conquer. Pandemonium … chaos. Oh, and don’t forget the ominous alternative. Heh-heh. Great line.”

The Marinegunkelly exited the Oval Dwelling, flexing his claws, wanting to rip out the tongue of the obvious source of that chilling diplomacy, the Stephenmillerus.

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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