“Okay, Rudy,” said the Tyrumposaurus. “What have you got for me today? We need something to deflect this disastrous Michaelcohen and Manaforta fake news. And this Dino the Doorman is freaking me out. I can’t keep sending out Trollertweeties with the same message. It’s getting old. It’s tired. Weak. I want results!”
“Have I ever let you down, boss? I’ve got a treat for you. A very special guest today.”
“Oh? A new Playmatapus?”
“No, no, no. No, no, no, no, no.” The Rudygiuliani loved the latest Michaelcohen quote making the rounds. “Trust me, you’re gonna love this dino. He’s nuttier than me.” The Rudygiuliani rose from his squat in the Oval Dwelling and turned to the doorway. “You can come in now.”
A large grizzled reptile with searing eyes and a leering grin slithered into the room. The Rudygiuliani exuberantly slapped tails him.
“T-Rump, I give you the answer to all our problems, the Michaellebron.”
“Please, call me Lionel.”
The three dinos squatted down together. The T-Rump nodded to his guest.
“Welcome Lionel, I’m seeing more of your dinos at my rallies. It must be good, this “Q” thing with the Q-Anonymus dinos. What’s the Q stand for again?”
“Quaint.”
“Excuse me? I don’t do quaint.”
“Oh, Quaint is just a cover. The vast majority of our conspiracy theories involve blaming others for doing nasty, nasty things to young dinos. It’s a branding, you might say …”
“Yes, branding,” nodded the T-Rump. “Branding’s good.”
“A branding that sticks like swamp water to the skin of every Donkeykongrus dino we accuse.”
“Go on.”
“You see, the Q-Anonymus know you’re not, uh … good with facts. And that’s great because fact-based arguments only seem to confirm the opposing idea in our dino noggins. We’re working with walnuts, right? These conspiracy theories are self-sealing. That is, trying to disprove them only helps reinforce them.”
“Fascinating.”
“And most importantly, our raison d’etre, our reason to be, because it’s not evidence that creates these conspiracy theories–”
“No, no, no. No, no, no, no, no,” said the Rudygiuliani. Awkward silence. “Sorry.”
The Q-Anon crackerjack continued.
“These conspiracy theories are successful because there are dinos out there with the desire to believe, to believe that there is a recipe for these events, a grandiose game plan, not pure coincidence or happenstance.”
“Such as,” said the T-Rump, leaning closer.
The Rudygiuliani clapped his hands together like a dino kid sucking sweet marrow from a bone.
“Wow,” said Lionel. “Where to begin. Well, the Sessionsopossum lost the Bamahama Sin Hut seat on purpose to show fraudulent election voting. … Remember the Crookadillary aide, the Huma-abedin? She was actually working for the Muslimbrownbruds, oh yes. … And we all know the Muellersavus investigation is a sham, simply a cover to expose the Obamarus and the Crookadillary as doing bad things …
“With young dinos.”
“You got it. They’ll soon all be nabbed and put in the Solitary Sinkhole.”
“Tell him the funny ones,” the Rudygiuliani said. “These are hilarious.”
“Humor is in the ear of the listener,” Lionel chuckled. “But try not to laugh too hard. We do have the faith of the Q-Anonymus dinos to consider. … So, there’s the one about the Langleyops themselves putting the Kimjongadon in power. … And the Sethrich, who was murdered by the Emmessthirteen dinos on orders from the Wassermanschultz … and you may not know this, but many prominent Donkeykongrus dinos are walking around as we speak with Anklemonitorus’ at their feet because they are secretly under arrest.
“You can’t trust one Donkeykongrus dino, can you,” said the T-Rump. “They’re the worst.”
“We need you to push that message, T-Rump. Remember when you said the calm before the storm? That ‘Storm’ is now your biggest, most important movement. Where we go one, we go all.”
“I’m the one, right?”
“Well, in a manner of speaking.”
“Trust the plan,” said the Rudygiuliani, borrowing another trademark Q response.
“Who’s plan?” asked the T-Rump.
“Why, yours of course,” said Lionel.
“I have a plan?”
“Every time you open you mouth.”
“That easy, huh?”
“Oh, yes. Your T-Rumpspeak is a kind of coded message with the Q-Anon dinos staying up into the wee hours trying to make sense of it.”
“This is good. Real good. Do I send a signal? Can I send one now?”
“Sure.”
“Er, what should I say?”
“Again, anything. Our Q-Anon dinos will work it out.”
“O-o-o-o-o-o-h.” It was the T-Rump’s turn to rub his hands together. “This sounds scary. Diabolical scary.”
Lionel and the Rudygiuliani shared a look as if they’d created a monster. The T-Rump raised a claw.
“Okay. I’ve got it. I’ll tell the world that I – I … hold on, I’m thirsty.”
“You want a Dietcoker?” Lionel asked anxiously.
“That’s it!” The T-Rump held his hands wide. “I. Want. A. Dietcoker.”
And the die was cast. Within hours the Q-Anonymus dinos had their latest, greatest conspiracy. The Trollertweeties were soon in flight, spreading the word about a secret conspiracy stating unequivocally that the Obamarus and the Crookadillary were behind a plot to poison every Grandoldparty dino by dumping tainted Dietcoker into the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir. Dietcoker which they got from the Putinodon of course.
These were dark days in Dinoville. Somewhere from afar, the Putinodon enjoyed a belly laugh at the new discord heaped upon the Milkanhoney Preservation. But hope stirred yet in the bellies of better dinos, as somewhere from on high, in a better place, the late great maverick, the Johnmccain looked down upon the events unfolding, knowing that in due time the most powerful dino would receive his Tyrumpian cupful of comeuppance. For soon the bells of justice would toll their virtues. In ringing brilliance for all.
David Belisle 