Satire The Trump Dig

Four Main Areas …

There was the rank and vile smell of guilt in the air. The Tyrumposaurus was meeting with his legal dinos. All six of them. There was the Dowderpuff, who had grudgingly become the main contact with the Muellersavus’ Moscovian Bluffs investigation; …

There was the rank and vile smell of guilt in the air. The Tyrumposaurus was meeting with his legal dinos. All six of them. There was the Dowderpuff, who had grudgingly become the main contact with the Muellersavus’ Moscovian Bluffs investigation; the Tycorncobb, who was really the Oval Dwelling’s counsel but liked to dine every other day with the Dowderpuff; the Joeydigenova, the latest hire, who was Sub Family to the Mediacircustops and packed a lot of bite; the Marckasowitz, who had left months before but stayed involved because he was a sucker for accident scenes; the Jaysekulow, whose long nose was second only to the T-Rump’s in forced fibs and fudging facts with the Mediacircustops; and the Michaelcohen, the T-Rump’s official fixer.

“T-Rump,” said the Dowderpuff. “I just got back from meeting with the Muellersavus. He tells me there are four main areas of the investigation he wants to ask you about in the interview.”

“Only four? That’s great! We’ve got this thing won already. I can’t wait to tell him myself I never did the dirty dino deed with the Stormydaniels.”

“The Russodino investigation, T-Rump.”

“Oh. Well, that goes for the Karenmcdougall as well. I was going to pay her but she wouldn’t take it. What, my moolah-moolah is not good enough for her?”

“I said Russodino.”

“And as for that sexual assault dino …”

“Which one?” asked the Joeydigenova, who obviously wasn’t up to speed yet.

The Dowderpuff was tired of trying to keep the T-Rump on point. He’d just raise his rates like the rest. It helped fight the stress. Being a T-Rump legal dino was akin to closing the cracks of an earthquake or putting lava back in the volcano.

“It’s the Kushneratops, isn’t it?” railed the T-Rump. That kid’s gonna kill me!”

“You’re getting warmer,” said the Dowderpuff. There were rumors amongst legal dinos that he was looking to leave the T-Rump team. He secretly believed the Muellersavus investigation had all the nuances of molten lava flowing through and obliterating the Oval Dwelling.

“Okay, then. You were wrong, I mean I was wrong. You were momentarily, er … off-base. Thankfully, I won’t have to die on the cross for you again. Your stable genius within surely guessed that the four main areas the Muellersavus is pointing us to are: one, your role in the statement provided following the kerfuffle about why the T-Rump Jr. met with all those Russodinos.”

“Three words. Father knows best.”

“I don’t think we can use Family Privilege on this one.”

“Are you saying my family isn’t privileged?”

“Moving on, the second area was the circumstances surrounding the meeting with the Russodinos.”

“Baby dinos,” said the T-Rump. “Stick with the orphaned baby dinos. Unless the Dacadreamers go tobacco loco on us. Then just call it fake news.”

“You can’t call your testimony to the Muellersavus fake news. You’re under oath.”

“What if … the orphaned baby dinos were fake?”

Even in the T-Rump’s most turbulent moments, brains froze and walnuts cracked with the hand wringing cry of “why-not-give-that-a-shot?” The lawyers nodded at the potential loopholes they could waltz through.

“Number three,” continued the Dowderpuff, “would be your firing of the Comeyonus.”

“He wasn’t loyal. AND he doesn’t like Russia.”

“You can’t say that.”

“Which one?”

“Both,” all six lawyers answered in unison.

“Finally, number four, your firing of the Flynnhasbeen.”

“That poor guy, I heard the Rushlimbaugh, bless his heart, mention three times in five minutes that the Flynnhasbeen lost his home. That’s sad. Really sad. I think I could put him up in the guest cave.”

“No, you can’t, T-Rump. You need to distance yourself from him.”

“Oh, I see. This is all about the Russodinos, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah,” said the Tycorncobb.

The T-Rump had fire in his belly. Burning bright.

“So what if I congratulated the Putinodon? We need him. I need him. He won another six-year term as the Russodino leader by defeating the opposition.”

“What opposition?” asked the Tycorncobb. The Alexeinavalny, the Putinodon’s main opponent was trapped in the Solitary Sinkhole on trumped up charges.

“He is not a crooked-necked dinosaur,” said the T-Rump. “73 percent of the Russodinos were squarely behind him.”

“What about the other 27 percent?” said the Tycorncobb. “I worry we may never see them again.”.

The Dowderpuff frowned at the Tycorncobb.

“Are you done yet?”

The T-Rump jumped five feet in the air.

“Don’t you EVER interrupt one of my lackies, I mean … lawyers when they’re talking about the Putinodon.”

“But … he’s not here.”

“He’s always here.”

The Dowderpuff waited for the T-Rump’s solemn, prayer-like vigil to pass.

“Don’t you guys worry,” said the T-Rump. So what if there’s not a legal dino in this neighborhood who wants to work for me, damn that Tedolson. Imagine, a former solicitor general turning me down. Who needs a solicitor general anyway?”

The half dozen legal dinos looked at each other nervously. Several coughed up phlegm from the sudden shock. The Joeydigenova wondered what he’d signed up for.

The T-Rump snapped his tail.

“I’ll just have to do it my way. Again. That’s right. My way or the other my way. I’m going to tell the Muellersavus that I plan on working with the Russodinos in the future. But let’s be clear on one thing. Just because I’ll be working with them doesn’t mean I’ll be drinking from the same pond. You got that?”

Serious nods from the legal dinos.

“Too many Russodinos have been turning up dead. It must be the water. I like the Putinodon but I like living too. Michael, you’ll have to be my new water taster.”

“But T-Rump, you still owe me 130-thousand from the, uh … non-Stormydaniels thing.”

“Okay, fair enough. 130-thousand moolah-moolah so you don’t have to drink my water first. Consider your slate clean.”

The Michaelcohen paused to mull over if his life was worth 130-thousand moolah-moolah. The T-Rump gave a snort.

That leaves you, Dowderpuff.”

The 77-year-old Dowderpuff quickly transformed into a puddle of flop sweat. This was too much. He was so close to retiring with his mate to the white, sandy shores of Why Kinky Beach. No. This wouldn’t do. He rose from his haunches.

“I quit!”

He stomped out. With that, it was officially just another day in the Oval Dwelling.

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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