There was the gnashing of teeth and flashing of raw, rare Kosmoceratops meat in the mouths of the Tyrumposaurus, the Jeaninepirro, the Seanhannity and the frizzy-scalped Donking. The four dinos were at the T-Rump’s Mar-a-Guano retreat to discuss strategy and devour spoils befitting their standing in the topsy-turvy political food chain.
The Jeaninepirro paused, blood dripping from her jowls, her sharp teeth and claws deep in a juicy flap of Kosmo red meat. The kind of red meat that makes a dino see red. The Jeaninepirro ate a lot of red meat.
“T-Rump,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to join your legal team? I’m free next week.”
“Well, I’ve been giving it a great amount of consideration, meaning I wasn’t thinking about it until you mentioned it, but … I think I’d like you to stay with the Foxsquawkbox and friends. You serve me so well there. Very well. So … so … well.”
“We’re doing our best, T-Rump,” said the Seanhannity. “It’s all we can do to stay ahead of the sick and twisted agenda of the Mediacircustops down at the Main Stream.”
“Sick and twisted agenda,” the T-Rump said. “I like that.”
“I’m truly humbled,” said the Foxsquawkbox host. “I have more. Rabid rabbit-hole reporters … left-leaning, lily-livered liars … deep doo-doo, Deep State defenders …”
“Fine, just fine, Sean. I’ll keep you another week.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m kidding. Just an old line my mother used to tell me. Which is why I like my father much better. When I picture my father and my mother in mind, my father is always bigger. Much bigger.”
“Ahem,” said the Jeaninepirro, “I believe it’s my turn to bash those liberal line-spewing losers. LOCK’EM UP!”
Her loud shout startled the T-Rump. He clutched his throat, choking on a half-chewed flap of Kosmo gizzard, his second helping of gizzard because his guests were only allowed one. The horror in the T-Rump’s eyes spoke of a suddenly realized threat that no one would save him.
“Ohmigod! Did I do that?” she said. “I’m so sorry. Are you dying? You’re not going to uninvite me, are you?”
The Donking sprang to action. He brought his tail around like a roundhouse punch, right to the kisser. A tooth tumbled out of the T-Rump’s mouth. His eyelids sank, pulling the shades over their panic.
“You dummy,” said the Seanhannity. “You knocked him out.”
“That’s all I know,” said the Donking, squatting back on his haunches.
The Seanhannity jumped in the air, landing with resounding thud on the T-Rump’s belly. The T-Rump’s eyelids flew open and the guilty gizzard ejected high up in the air. The three other dinosaurs jockeyed for position under the flight of the juicy red meat. A quick two kicks to two groins and the Jeaninepirro snapped her jaws shut, swallowing the gizzard.
“M-m-m, sloppy seconds.”
A dazed T-Rump struggled to a squatting position.
“Did the Mediacircustops get my successful recovery? Did the Maggiehaberman say anything about me? Anything?”
“I’m afraid not,” said the Seanhannity. “There’s always tomorrow.”
“That’s all that matters.” The T-Rump sighed. “Has her husband left her yet?”
The other three dinosaurs shared the Oval Dwelling’s daily conundrum of wondering whether to humor the leader of the dinosaur world or simply ignore him. They nodded that in this case ignorance was bliss.
The Seanhannity raised a claw.
“Here’s one we haven’t tried yet. Let’s say that the Main Stream Mediacircustops only have jobs if they profess to have an undying, looks could kill, spit in your face hatred of you.”
“I’ll go you one better,” said the Jeaninepirro. “The Sinclair dinos — Sub Family of the Mediacircustops — have close to 200 species at the Main Stream. We should have them all say the same fake news message. Something like …”
“Let’s do this together,” interrupted the Seanhannity. “You know, misery loves company. I’ll start. We, the stalwart, know-it-all Sinclair dinos will root out the …”
“Nefarious, ugly thought-provoking, fickle, time-wasting facts,” chimed in the Jeaninepirro.
“That only serve to take our esteemed leader, the Tyrumposaurus, and his most important thoughts away from his latest game of flog,” finished the Seanhannity.
“I like it,” said the T-Rump. “Make it so. All 200 species. Give me loyalty. Or moolah-moolah.”
“Speaking of which,” said the Seanhannity. “We finally found a dinosaur poll that gives you a 50% approval rating.”
“How much did we pay for that?”
“We don’t want to say things like that, T-Rump,” cautioned the Jeaninepirro.
“Oh, right. Well, what poll was it?”
“Oh,” said the Seanhannity. “A little dino outfit just this side of extinction. It’s called the Ragamuffin Report.”
“They said 50%?”
“Yes. Well, they polled 5 dinosaurs and it’s a rolling average over a 5-minute period. Give or take 20 percent.”
“Fantastic! That’s more than the Obamarus ever had. Isn’t it?”
“At some point.”
“I want more. 60%. Get me 60.”
“Allow me,” said the Donking. “You want to beat the Obamarus? I can see it now.” He waved his short arms wide. Twice for effect. “We’ll call it The T-Rump Thump-a-Chump.’ You and the Obamarus toe-to-toe.”
“Can we throw in the Crookadillary too? Remember how I thumped her?”
“Are you sure you can handle two at the same time?” asked the Jeaninepirro.
“Oh, sure. You should’ve seen what I did to that place in the Moscovian Bluffs. Trashed it!”
“But what about your bone spurs?”
The T-Rump smiled his satisfied, lounge lizard smile.
“Did you want to see them? I have a private cave just around the corner. Out of the way, unassuming, includes a non-disclosure agreement. But you know all about those.”
David Belisle 