Satire The Trump Dig

The Peterstrzok Strikes Back …

The Peterstrzok leaned back in the hideaway love nest he shared with the Lisapage. His long tonque met hers in a long, slow, slobbery French kiss as the two Langleyops dinos basked in the matinee naughtiness …

The Peterstrzok leaned back in the hideaway love nest he shared with the Lisapage. His long tonque met hers in a long, slow, slobbery French kiss as the two Langleyops dinos basked in the matinee naughtiness of their extramarital affair.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the Lisapage said breathlessly. “Tell me again how you plan to take down the Tyrumposaurus.”

“Well, it may take a million years to completely dilute his bloodline. Meanwhile I plan to follow every single one of his illicit affairs to make sure we keep the Oval Dwelling, uh … clean. I don’t care how much dinosaur urine I have to wade through.”

“My hero,” she sighed.


It was the …

“Boobgoodlatte?” said the Peterstrzok.

“Yes, and 35 of my Grandoldparty dino cronies.”

A few of them stepped forward for a better look. The Lisapage blushed at her natural nakedness.

“I beg your pardon!” fumed the Peterstrzok.

“You’ll just have to wait your turn for a T-Rump pardon. Between you and me, it doesn’t look good.”

“Hey, wait up!”

“Damn.” the Boobgoodlatte winced.

The 71-year-old Jerroldnadler led 35 more dinos, his Donkeykongrus brethren, huffing and puffing up to the edge of the suddenly very public love nest. The exasperated Lisapage was beginning to feel like a Stormydaniels.

The Boobgoodlatte glared down at the Jerroldnadler.

“Who invited you?”

“Oh, we’re onto you. Again, trying to have these meetings without us. We’re here to support the Peterstrzok.”

“I was doing quite, uh … fine, thank you,” said the Langleyops dino.

“On the contrary,” said the Boobgoodlatte. “We’ve found numerous love nests shared by you and the Lisapage. The fact that they block the view of countless love nests the T-Rump shares with Playmatapus’ and Pornodactyl’s — well, we’ll save that investigation for another day. But we’ve found very disturbing footprints in the sand regarding your love nests.”

“Like what?”

“The witness will suspend! I will hold you in contempt!”

“But I haven’t said anything.”

“Aah. So, you’re not going to answer my question?”

The cagey Peterstrzok knew how to play their game.

“You can ask that question any way you want, but I don’t appreciate your grasp of how ridiculous you sound.”

The Treyrowdygowdy clawed his way to the front.

“I don’t give a DAMN what you appreciate. Because your bias is nothing to the bias I bring to the workplace every single day when dealing with a Langleyops dino whose bias dares to infringe upon mine. Do I make myself clear, Mister Second Place Bias?”

“Uh, okay. I’ll indulge you.”

“You’d damn well better.”

“Who’s next?” asked the Boobgoodlatte. “Who wants a crack at this loser Langleyops?”

“I’m not done,” said the Treyrowdygowdy, swishing his tail dangerously at the other dinos. “Yield, my ass.” He turned back to the Peterstrzok. “We saw your footprints in the sand. The 100 million to one, oh yes. Hmph. That’s how badly you said the Crookadillary would beat the T-Rump, isn’t it?”

“Uh, no. It’s actually how much better I feel with the Lisapage than my wife.”

The Lisapage blushed again at the 70-plus pairs of dino eyes that turned to her.

“And the insurance policy! What about that?!” The Treyrowdygowdy was losing it.

“Oh, that. Lisa, here, is my insurance policy to love.”

“Petey-swetey,” the Lisapage gushed, “you’re so romantic.”

The Treyrowdygowdy’s walnut seemed to crack somewhat. He scratched at his noggin, giving way to the Boobgoodlatte.

“Peterstrzok, what does the T-Rump support smell like?”

“Ankles or hernia?”

“Let me at’im!” hollered the Treyrowdygowdy. He rushed the love nest but was restrained by several dinos unwilling to give up their front row seats.

The Louiegohmert saw his opportunity to jump into the fray.

“I see your little smirk. But it’s the T-Rump who smirks best. How many times did you look so innocent into your wife’s eye and lie to her about Lisa Page? Well, the T-Rump is better at that too.”

“I should say so,” said the Johnratcliffe. “The T-Rump also beats you in crossing that bright, inviolable line, even if he doesn’t know what ‘inviolable’ means. Speaking of which, where is the T-Rump? We can’t let our divisive leader miss out on this.”

The Boobgoodlatte raised a claw.

“He’s on his way to visit the Putinodon. Alone.”

The Donkeykongrus dinos looked on, horrified. The Grandoldparty dinos clasped their claws together and looked skyward, whistling to the wind, pretending not to notice. Pretending not to care.

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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s