Satire The Trump Dig

At Peace with the Michaelcohen …

The Tyrumposaurus traipsed through the waist-deep weeds of the Russo-Cigarlands to the appointed meeting place. There was the heavy, repugnant smell of double-crossed dinos in the air.  …

The Tyrumposaurus traipsed through the waist-deep weeds of the Russo-Cigarlands to the appointed meeting place. There was the heavy, repugnant smell of double-crossed dinos in the air.  

Waiting for him in a clearing was the Michaelcohen, a legal dino in the briefest sense, the one-time fixer of all things Tyrumpian. That is, nefarious and imminently disastrous in nature. The Michaelcohen squatted there, wearing his usual expression, a look that said “they’re right behind me but I’m not dead yet.”

T-Rump’s small walnut meanwhile was simmering towards his last-fired sycophant sidekick. This was in stark contrast to the previous week’s meeting with the Putinodon in Smellstinki. There, the T-Rump had allowed the Putinodon to sniff his tail for an exclusive if not embarrassing two hours plus. Russodino leaders had called it ‘better than super.”

A super score however, was now to be settled between the T-Rump and his former legal dino. Former because the authorities had learned of countless secrets the T-Rump had shared with the Michaelcohen, secrets the legal dino was now prepared to tell the authorities to escape a lengthy stay in the Solitary Sinkhole.

The T-Rump spoke first.

“I told everyone that the Langleyops dinos broke into several of your caves but the good news is that their favorite dino — me — did nothing wrong.”

The Michaelcohen shook his head, almost apologetically.

“Perhaps you haven’t realized it yet, but I’m no longer your legal dino. I can’t fix the two lies you just told. However, in my new persona, as a, ahem … newly concerned dino, I can remind you that the authorities conducted a legal search and no, you did everything wrong.”

“You’re forgetting,” said the T-Rump, “that you once said you’d take a Bullet-Nosed Slugwhack in the face for me.”

“Meanwhile,” the Michaelcohen countered, “you said you could take down a dino in broad daylight on your fifth charge — bone spurs notwithstanding — and get away with it.”

The Michaelcohen’s face whitened more than usual. He dared to peek over his shoulder.

“Oh my, I just realized that by killing me, you could walk away from this whole thing scot-free.”

“Never happen,” said the T-Rump. “That was your idea, not mine. My ideas are better. I just haven’t thought one up yet. Why bother? I can always just take whatever the Stephenmillerus spits out. You can be damn sure it’ll spin the dino world on its head. Good guy, that nutjob. We love him around the Oval Dwelling.”

The Michaelcohen clasped his hands together.

“You … You’ve never seen me like this.”

“Like what?”

“The Truth. It’s setting me free, T-Rump. Honest. … It’s been a while since I’ve said that word.”

“Honest or truth?”

“Both. Oh, you can cross them both off your list, but I … I’m finally in touch with my inner self. When I shook the hands of those nice Langleyops dinos who casually strolled away with all my damning secrets … it was like watching the four dinosaurs of the Apocalypse plodding off into the sunset. My conscience is finally clear.


“I’m afraid I can no longer be loyal to you T-Rump. My family comes first.”

“Family? What’s that?”

“Your, um … wife? Your kids?”

“Oh. You mean my business.”

“I always wondered,” said the Michaelcohen. “When you paid them their weekly commission, did you at least give them a hug?”

“Of course I did. It’s a small expense but I always get it back at the end of the year.”

“T-Rump,” the Michaelcohen frowned. “You are unfit for office.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No, after you gave new meaning to the Smellstinki meeting, any dino with half a walnut, including the Foxsquawkbox, could see you’re not loyal, you don’t care about the Milkanhoney Preservation. You’re only in it for yourself.”

“Oh,” huffed the T-Rump, “says you, the fifth dino of my apocalypse.”

The Michaelcohen was near tears.

“All I wanted was to be a part of the Oval Dwelling, to stop chasing the Checkered Taximedallion. I have this thing for yellow dinos. But I got over it. I wanted to serve my homeland. Why couldn’t you let me have that?”

“Because you reminded me of myself.”

“The rude, crude, unethical, immoral, lying, dividing, deflecting, misogynistic, tyrannical racist?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

The Michaelcohen looked like a new dino after dropping that load.

“I feel so much better getting that all out. … Now then, you really need a better legal dino than the Rudygiuliani. He allowed you to share that secret with the Mediacircustops about paying the Karenmcdougall to keep quiet about the affair you had with her? What was that all about? Just because it was a bill that you actually paid?”

“Correction, I was thinking about paying her. I never paid her because I never had the affair with her.”

The new Michaelcohen shook his head in wonder, marveling at the gross incompetence before him.

“You do realize, T-Rump, that with the thousands of lies you’ve told, come the smoldering secrets you’ve left behind with me. In the wake of your victory, I am the volcano waiting to erupt. My only guarantee? Molten lava is messy.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. It was nice knowing you. Better convicting you.”

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.

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