Meager Legal Dinos …

The Mikepompeo stuck his neck into the Oval Dwelling.

“Excuse me, T-Rump?”

“WHAT?!”

The Tyrumposaurus looked at him with panicky, bloodshot eyes. He hadn’t slept in a week. He sent out his Trollertweeties at all hours these days. Their messages, garbled at best, lacked their usual scorched earth policy. Instead, they sounded like those from a sniveling Snotnose, a dino prone to complaining of phantom bone spur pain. The T-Rump was having a bad day, a terrible week and a catastrophic month. The Michaelcohen raid had been a vicious dinosaur tail to the face.

Surrounding the T-Rump were the remaining dregs from the legal dino profession willing to work pro bono in addition to receiving copious amounts of daily verbal and psychological abuse.

‘I – I’ve come to a landmark decision with the Kimjongadon.”

“How nice,” the T-Rump replied through gritted teeth. “But that doesn’t help me now, does it!”

“But …”

“Can’t you see we’re in the middle of serious business here!? How can I make the Milkanhoney Preservation great again if I’m in the Solitary Sinkhole?”

“Yes, T-Rump.” The Mikepompeo turned to go.

“Pompeo, tell the Barbarabush funeral dinos I couldn’t make it out of respect … but since the T-Melania is there ….”

“I’ll see what Pornodactyls or Playmatapus are in the neighborhood.”

“You didn’t have to tell everyone.”

The aspiring Secretary of State exited.

“Okay,” the T-Rump said, turning to his lead dino attorney. The Jaysekulow was gnawing thoughtfully on a dead rodent. “What have you got for me?”

“We have some fresh meat, I mean legal dinos, added to the team.”

“Oh?” The T-Rump’s gaze skipped the first two dinos — both males — to land on the third. A female. They shared a smile, the T-Rump wanting more.

“This is the Rudygiuliani …”

“And?”

“The, uh … Martyraskin …”

And?” The T-Rump grew impatient.

“The Janeraskin, of course. His wife.”

“How unfortunate.” The T-Rump winced.

“I beg your pardon?” she said.

“So unfortunate that you … and your husband … are only joining our team just now. I, I mean we, could’ve used you before.”

The T-Rump eyed the three new members.

“You will be working pro bono of course and, as none of you have my best interests at heart more than me, I will be calling the shots. One thing you all can do for me however …”

“Yes, yes?” the Rudygiuliani said a little too eagerly.

“I’ll need you to make up derogatory nicknames for yourselves. I simply don’t have the time.”

The Martyraskin raised a claw.

“Excuse me, but I heard that the Grandoldparty committee was spending 25% of its moolah-moolah on legal fees?”

The Jaysekulow shook his head.

“Boy, have you got a lot to learn.” He turned to his boss. “The latest status report:  we have over 100 civil law suits at the federal level, there’s the Stormydaniels thing, the Summerzervos defamation suit, the Muellersavus investigation and, this just in … the Donkeykongrus committee is suing us and the Russodinos and the Wikileakibeak for interfering with their election campaign.”

“Well, sue them back!”

“For what?”

“For suing me in the first place! How dare they!”

The Jaysekulow knew better than to butt heads with the T-Rump. The Dowderpuff had implied he knew more than the T-Rump and was now back to chasing the speedy Ambulansaurus’.

“We’ll come up with something, T-Rump. So … what kind of day are you having? Is it a I’m-smarter-than-the-Muellersavus or a He-hurt-my-feelings kind of day?”

The T-Rump mulled it over.

“That damn Comeyonus has really got me going. Who made him the law of the land? Honestly, if we just keep saying all media and their sources and the Donkeykongrus … am I missing any dino?

“Just say all dinos not present, T-Rump.”

“Right. If we can just keep lying about that then my six lies a day are meaningless, right?”

“Just one thing, T-Rump,” said the Martyraskin, “the Comeyonus has never changed his story. It’s uncanny. I’ve never heard a dino so eloquent, so convincing. Dare I say it, I really believe he’s telling the truth.”

“Hoo-boy,” said the Jaysekulow.

The T-Rump’s brow furrowed into a second frown.

“Do you want to work for me for free or not?”

The Martyraskin looked away, considering the moolah-moolah he would make from his own footprints-in-the-sand tell-all expose of this blowhard buffoon.

“I’m good,” he said.

“Alright then. I’m only keeping you because your wife had to divorce some other dino to marry you, right?”

She hadn’t, but the Raskin dinos quickly recognized the T-Rump’s penchant for maximum humiliation. There was no point in arguing with his alternate reality. Some walnut brains were simply more cracked than others. This was going to be a wild ride.

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