Sounds Like Chicken …

You could cut the tension in the Oval Dwelling with a sharp-edged dinosaur bone. Glum faces all around. There was the Paulryan, a seasoned but largely silent Grandoldparty dino. Beside him sat the Scottpruitt, an Enviromenace whose unethical shenanigans had launched no less than a dozen investigations. A former heavyweight from the Philadelphian Free Range, the Michaelnutter was also in attendance. The Huckabeecyclops snuck inside the doorway, collapsing beside it, weeping softly into her hands. The others paid her no mind. It was just another day in the Trumpassic Period.

The Tyrumposaurus entered the Oval Dwelling and took a quick, cursory glance around the room. His angry glare settled upon the Paulryan.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this, Paul. Using your cabinet position as Beaker and a Louse to gain favorable consideration for your spouse to receive a fresh Chickfillay. What gives you that special right? Did you ever consider asking me if I might want a fresh Chickfillay? You know what? I should rename that beast. To make it sound even better. Because I can, you know. We’ll call it the T-Rump Chickfillay.”

“Excuse me, T-Rump,” said the Paulryan. He pointed at the Scottpruit. “He’s the Chickfillay.”

The T-Rump moved over to the Scottpruitt.

“You Cheekyphilly,” he said, glaring down at the Enviromenace. “You think you’re so special, saying you’re going to be here at the Oval Dwelling and then you don’t even show up. I said don’t kneel and you kick and scream saying you’re free to kneel. Who ever heard of a dinosaur kneeling? Dinos squat! You got that? Such disgraceful conduct for our national anthem, The Flight of the Trollertweeties. I used to know a few words. I think I can still hum it.” He eyed the Scottpruitt warily. “I ought to kick you out of the Milkanhoney Preservation.”

The Scottpruitt motioned over to the Michaelnutter. “Uh … he’s the Cheekyphilly.”

“Ah, yes. Chock-fullah … spies.” The T-Rump’s evil eye found the Michaelnutter. “I know all about your Langleyops penetrating my leadership campaign. You’re a sneaky bunch, you are. But you weren’t looking for Russodinos. You were looking for me!”

“Oh, T-Rump,” said the Paulryan, “I happen to agree. They were just doing their job.”

“Silence! Don’t stick up for him. … Chickfillay. Cheekyphilly. Chock-fullah. Call it what you may. It’s all the same thing. You’re all against me. Everyone of you. Against me … the stable genius!

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the sobbing Huckabeecyclops.

“What are you doing here?”

“I, I … it’s the Mediacircustops.”

“Are you crying? There’s no crying in politics!”

“They’re ganging up on me! They’re calling me a … chi- … chi- …”

“Chickfillay?”

“No.”

“Cheekyphilly?”

She shook her head.

“Chock-fullah … ?”

Another shake of her head.

“Chicken! They’re calling me chicken!”

“Frankly, Huckabee, I don’t give a damn. They can call you whatever they want as long as they say nice things about me. Remember, you’ve got a job to do.”

“Keep misinforming them?”

“Away you go. Back to work.”

She slowly rose to her haunches and dragged herself out the door. The T-Rump turned back to the others.

“Now then, I think this weekly Pardon Program I’ve begun is going to be very successful. It may even put me in the running for the Nobelpeacepiper, I’m such a nice guy. I think 30 or so pardons should do it.”

“T-Rump,” said the Michaelnutter. “Before you pardon others, maybe you should pardon yourself.”

“I will. Eventually.”

“I don’t mean that. I’m talking about your begging the pardon of the fine dinos of the Philadelphian Free Range, for embarrassing them over this whole Oval Dwelling visit fiasco.”

“I don’t beg.”

“You, on the other hand,” the T-Rump said, turning to the Paulryan, “you could use a pardon.”

“What!? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Don’t I know it. If you’d back me up on a few of these things I’ve got going on here, that wouldn’t be a problem, now would it? You’re a little too squeaky clean for my liking.”

The T-Rump’s gaze found the Scottpruitt.

“Scotty here, on the other hand … ah, my good dino, Scotty. You’re doing a great job. Ethically speaking, the environment as well, you’re a monster! I hope you’re still here after another dozen investigations, you’ve done so much for me. It’s too bad I’ll only be able to pardon you once. Hmm. Maybe I can change that. Until then, keep up the great work. Oh, and I have some used moolah-moolah leaves I’ve been sleeping in. Would you like those?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

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