“Get off me! Get the hell off me! Now!”
“Sorry, boss,” said the Stephenmillerus. He struggled at putting his 130-pound frame into pinning one of the Tyrumposaurus’ short arms to the ground. The T-Rump squirmed frantically.
“Do something, Sean!”
But the Seanhannity was busy holding the T-Rump’s other arm down.
“It’s for your own good.”
“Rudy!”
The Rudygiuliani was where he could always be found. At the T-Rump’s feet. He was holding the leader’s bone spur-ravaged ankles down, controlling a deep-seated urge to massage them as he did so.
“Now, now, T-Rump, you know what Sean said, the Rodrosenstein called you loony tunes. It’s all a set-up by the Donkeykongrus to make you fire the Rodrosenstein before the midterm battles. We can’t lose the independent dinos and the valley cave dino wives.”
“You lost me at loony tunes. That’s what he called me. Loony tunes! He’s got to go! You kept me quiet for FIVE whole days on the Christineford kerfuffle. I hate it when you do that. I need to breathe. A sentence without an insult is a waste of words. If I can’t be divisive, I’m not trying. What would the Putinodon think? I can’t look weak. I need to let my deplorable base know that … well, I am deplorable. Not just deplorable. The greatest deplorable.”
“But if you do this, boss,” said the Stephenmillerus, “our base will be reduced to the basest of base. While pleasing on the surface, we can’t win with them alone.”
The T-Rump frowned.
“I know they live alone.”
The three dinosaurs gave the T-Rump the look they gave him when he took a cliff dive out of a conversation. After a year and a half, the T-Rump was well aware of that look.
“Would somebody please speak dinosaur?”
The Seanhannity raised a claw.
“I know this is hard for you to understand, but we need more than a bunch of whackadoodles like the Carterpage if we’re going to win. I’m talking regular, fine, upstanding dinos … like the one I attempt to portray.”
“Think Brettkavanaugh,” said the Rudygiuliani.
“THE Dinosaur of Respectability,” said the Seanhannity, nodding profusely.
“I suppose,” the T-Rump said grudgingly. “But only — and I mean only — if it serves my purpose.”
The Huckabeecyclops walked in. She didn’t bat an eye at the latest Operation Tackle T-Rump. She gazed down at the T-Rump.
“I bring news from the front.”
“Which one?”
“A second female dino has accused the Brettkavanaugh of hanky panky.”
“So?”
“It’s obvious he doesn’t have your awe-inspiring ability to shrug off salacious scandals, T-Rump.”
“Who does?”
“And … where there’s a second dino, there’s now a third.”
“Geez, I wanted this dino for a judge, not to compete with me bungling in the jungle!”
A look of terror crossed the Seanhannity’s face.
“What is it, Sean?” asked the T-Rump.
“But – but the Mitchgetbacktowork. He’s already announced — in that deep, gravely, confirming voice, y’know? …”
The other dinos nodded.
“That the Brettkavanaugh will be the next Supreme Court Dino. How do I tell my audience that the mighty Mitch is about to eat supreme crow?! This is terrible! What are we going to do?”
“Don’t look at me,” said the T-Rump. “Do something!”
David Belisle 