The Rudygiuliani squatted before a visibly upset Tyrumposaurus. The T-Rump’s tail twitched nervously. The legal dino backed up a step, safely out of tail-whacking distance. One never knew when the T-Rump would lash out. The Rudygiuliani had to think fast — never a good thing for him.
“I know. Just say you never heard of him.”
“Never heard of him? How can you say that? He’s the Viktorvekselberg! How do you erase a name like that from your memory? It sticks out like … like my name. Damn him! He could sink this whole thing and he’s cramping my style.”
“Sink what thing? I’m sorry, you’ll have to bring me up to speed. Help me get my facts straight. And … as your legal counsel, I suggest … I mean, hope you’ll tell me the truth.”
The highly contagious, lying, corrupt Look of 3000 Lies from the T-Rump burned three words into the legal dino’s wobbly walnut. Not. A. Chance.
“Just asking. Okay, let’s look on the bright side. He only threw half a million moolah-moolah leaves into the Essential Slush Pond. That’s just a fraction of what’s there. And let’s not forget, it was the Viktorvekselberg’s cousin who was running the show over there at Columbus Chevynova. Why don’t you let me go and explain this whole Viktorvekselberg thing to the Mediacircustops.”
“No! By the time you’re done, they’ll think he’s my brother.”
“Do you want him to be? I can do that too. Just say the word.”
“Okay, my mistake. It’s just that you had so many Russodinos there when you were sworn in. And then in the Oval Dwelling after you got rid of that Flynnhasbeen nutjob. I thought they were your relatives. It’s too bad I wasn’t there to help you then.”
The T-Rump shuddered. The Rudygiuliani took this as his cue to leave.
“Not so fast,” said the T-Rump. “You mentioned half million being just a fraction?”
“Ah, yes. Um … a fraction of what?”
“You tell me.”
“Oh, well … You forgot?”
“Look, if it didn’t happen on the Foxsquawkbox it didn’t happen! I’m getting tired of having to send out a Trollertweety EVERY time I want the news the way I want it!”
“Right. Yes. well, I’m sorry to bring it up … but the Michaelcohen raked in 4.4 million moolah-moolah leaves from dinosaurs like the Viktorvekselberg who wanted access to you.”
The T-Rump’s tail lashed out, carving a new crease in the Oval Dwelling’s wall.
“Why that ungrateful Checkercabby-chasing chump! The nerve of that Pursepuppy! After all I’ve done for him!”
“Might I remind you — and the Mediacircustops later — that that moolah-moolah was meant to take care of your problems, your legal issues, your really big mistakes … just like the slush pond I had back in the day … when I knew right from wrong. I mean, trying to right those wrongs. Without other dinos knowing of course. Except now they do. But we can turn this to our advantage. Trust me.”
But the T-Rump knew better. Unless a hanger-on was heaping, Mincepencenow-like words of gushing praise upon him, the T-Rump tuned any dino out after three seconds.
“How dare he make moolah-moolah off me! He’s going to pay it back. With interest.”
“I don’t know about that. He just borrowed nine million moolah-moolah against his cave in Manhattinhand. Gee, you know what? Maybe the Viktorvekselberg could help him out. 13 billion goes a long way these days.”
The T-Rump raised a crooked claw to his crooked chin. A crooked thought crossed his mind. The Rudygiuliani had a bafflegab mouth that might do better behind the scenes.
Because the T-Rump needed a new fixer. Badly.