Beware the Millennialsaurus …

The 33-year-old Millennialsaurus munched on the low-hanging dinosaur egg fruit, a cross between a plum and an apricot that provided essential fibre. Millennials were concerned about their health, as well they should, being on their way to surpassing the Babyboomerus as the Trumpassic Period’s largest living generation.

The Millennialsaurus, Miller to his friends, was like most Millennials. Still a single dino, living with his parents in the back, dank part of the cave in a major dino traffic area. He had close black and brown friends. Scale colour was not an issue. Miller didn’t idolize any Paganraptors, he lounged around most of the day and had the participation trophy to prove it. But one thought germinated in his walnut brain, refusing to go away. The world was a mess and what had he done to deserve this?

On the MAGA, that is, Millennials Approaching Government Apoplexy scale, Miller, like 44% of his brethren was an independent. 27% were Donkeykongrus, 17% Grandoldparty and the remaining 12% of Millennials had taken a vow of silence until the T-Rump was ousted.

Miller bit into another juicy dino egg fruit and squatted comfortably beneath the tree to watch the dino afternoon trudge hour traffic pass by. Above the sound of dragging heels, he was able to catch snippets of conversations as the dinos plodded past.

The Peterstrzok and the Lisapage came into view.

“They tied our hands, Lisa. Tied our hands!”

“Why do we even bother, Peter? We had dozens of leads to get to the bottom of the Kavanaugh investigation and the Oval Dwelling shut. It. Down. How dare they.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m doing my best to give our illicit affair a second chance, but this Kavanaugh confirmation … I mean, they were all upset about our bungling in the jungle and now the Sin Hut dinos are ignoring — or is it normalizing sexual assault?”

The two Langleyops lovers were followed by the Mitchgetbacktowork and the Chuckgrassley.

“I told you I would ram it through, didn’t I?” said the dino majority leader. “Ram, ram, thank you, Chuck. It’s taken 33 years but we finally did it.”

“You did a bang-up job on tail dragging the Merrickgarland. That was the filibuster of filibusters.”

“They don’t call me the Kentuckygobbler for nothing. We old, pasty-white geezers need to stick together. So we close our eyes, our ears and plug our noses. Kavanaugh was a stinky one but we’re home free now. The T-Rump’s reign of terror has given us cover to do anything. Who knew? Anything at all.”

“Say, Mitch, what about the Midterms?”

“Hah! Who cares? The damage is done. 33 years, Chuck. The Supreme Dino Court is finally ours!”

The two dinos chuckled and wheezed, dragging themselves past Miller and down the path.

The Susancollins soon appeared, ambling along, looking somewhat lost.

“I believe the Christineford was attacked but the Brettkavanaugh said he didn’t do it … I believe the Christineford was attacked but the Brettkavanaugh said he didn’t do it.”

Her shaky, monotone voice repeated the phrase ad nauseam as she stumbled out of view.

“Can you believe the Joemanchin?”

It was the voice of the T-Rump Jr. He and the T-Rump were taking their victory stroll. The T-Rump Jr. waved his hands excitedly.

“He waited until after the Susancollins backed the Brettkavanaugh before jumping on board. A real profile in courage. Just another lyin’ liberal, right, pop?”

“You said it.” The T-Rump flashed a smug grin, proud that his zero-empathy gene had been passed on. A vanquished enemy was only to be piled upon. “Yes, it’s a shame what the Donkeykongrus have become. They’re just an angry left-wing mob. Dinos of crime. Just imagine the devastation they would cause if they ever obtained the power they so desperately want and crave.”

“I have to hand it to you, pop. Only you could get away with mocking a survivor as 19 other survivors still accuse you.”

“That’s why I’m the greatest. The Christineford named the wrong dino. I’m a hundred percent. I have no doubt.”

The T-Rump and son lapsed into locker room talk, disappearing down the path. The Millennialsaurus mouthed the T-Rump’s words. I have no doubt. As if the T-Rump was there three decades ago. No, he wasn’t. His base would believe anything the T-Rump said but Miller knew better.

The dino egg fruit grew sour in his mouth. He spat it out. The time for the Millennialsaurus had come. Time to get up, go out and pound the paths for true, well-meaning dinos who wanted a peaceful, promising tomorrow. Not the Grandoldparty geriatrics and sycophants in lock-step with the T-Rump’s seven daily lies, derisive division and rampant corruption. No more. The November battles drew near. Miller felt the groundswell of emotion, a wellspring awakening stirring within like an earthquake tremor. The Millennialsaurus knew it would be Midterm Mayhem only a dinosaur could appreciate. Just 29 more days of the T-Rump digging new lows in his bottomless legacy.

Miller set his jaw and swallowed hard. I wasn’t there. But I am now.

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