Satire The Trump Dig

T-Rump’s Answers …

“Bobby! Good to see you!”
The Muellersavus was taken aback. The Tyrumposaurus, drooling smirk and all, had indeed darkened his doorway.
“Ahem. Come in, T-Rump.”
The two dinosaurs soon squatted across from one another in the Muellersavus’ spartan working cave. …

“Bobby! Good to see you!”

The Muellersavus was taken aback. The Tyrumposaurus, drooling smirk and all, had indeed darkened his doorway.

“Ahem. Come in, T-Rump.”

The two dinosaurs soon squatted across from one another in the Muellersavus’ spartan working cave. Save for a few volcanic and other shiny rock momentos, the cave was just another hole in the wall.

“What brings you before me, T-Rump?”

“Well, at first I said I wasn’t going to answer your questions, then I said I would. I wouldn’t. Would. Wouldn’t …”


“Then I said I was only going to read your footprints in the sand and answer them with my own footprints …”


“And then I remembered … I can’t read. S-o-o-o-o, here I am. You ask. I’ll answer. Easy-peasy.”

“And your legal dinos. Where are they?”

“Pshaw! Who needs’em? I know everything!”

Except how to read thought the Muellersavus.

“Very well. Let’s start at the beginning. When you say your prayers at night, who do you say them to?”

“C’mon now, Bob. You know the Tymelania and I sleep in separate caves. I don’t want that to get out. Just when she was starting to hold my hand again.”

The Muellersavus set his hard, chiseled jaw.

“Do you pray, T-Rump?”

“What, and ruin my knees? Please.”

“Do you honour your mother and father?”

“You’ve got that all backwards. It was my father who honoured me. But like I said, it was only a loan of a million moolah-moolah leaves — which I paid back in full. Not that crazy 400 million number. Sheesh!”

“Do you keep the Sabbath Day holy?”

“Hey, these questions are pretty good. Did you just make these up?”

“Answer the question, please.”

“Look, Bob. I’m out flogging every weekend. It’s who I am. You know what they say. Happy T-Rump, Happy T-Rump.”

“I see. Did you ever commit idolatry?”

“Idolatry? You mean adultery — Aha! Perjury trap! I got you.”

“No, I was referring to idols.”

“Oh, that. Well, it’s no secret really. I moved from being a celebrity to an idol. Big idol. Really big. These things happen. Especially with me.”

“Did you use blasphemy?”

“Whatever the hell that is. Next question.”

“Did you commit murder?”

“N-o-o-o-o,” the T-Rump said, drawing the word out slowly. “But I could. Any dino, any dino path. In broad daylight even. You already knew that too. Dumb questions. Waste of time.”

“Did you commit adultery?”


A stoic nod from the Muellersavus.

“On that one, I’ll take Executive Privilege. Trust me, it was. But the Stormydaniels thing? The Tymelania had a headache, okay? The worst migraine the world has ever seen. So sad. What was I to do? The Stormydaniels may have been there. I don’t know.”

“Did you ever steal?”

“Steal? Steal what?”


“Everybody steals something. The Crookadillary couldn’t look after her own secrets and some dinos who I don’t know stole them. Go chase them. I bet you’ll find the Crookadillary right in the middle of it.

A puzzled look from the Muellersavus.

“Why would the Crookadillary want someone to steal her secrets?”

“I know you didn’t just fall out of the turnip tree, Bob. You worked for the Obamarus for what … 4? … 8? … 16 years? We don’t need to go into all the bad stuff that happened to the Crookadillary that guaranteed my glorious victory. It should’ve been more glorious. The most glorious. And because it wasn’t she should spend the rest of her life in the Solitary Sinkhole.”

The Muellersavus’ lunch gurgled in his stomach. A side effect of his job was major indigestion.

“T-Rump, did you bear false witness?”

“Who, me? You’ve got to be kidding. Look around. There’s the Flynnhasbeen, the Papadapolous, the Rickyprisongates, the Manaforta, the Michealcohen, the Alanweisselberg, the Davidpecker, and soon, I’m sure, that dirty trickster, the Rogerstone. All of them turning on me. It wasn’t that long ago,” he said wistfully, “they were all very, very loyal to me. Like dung beetles on dino poop.”

The Muellersavus struggled shaking the image from his mind. The T-Rump continued.

“Now they’re saying bad things about me, making things up. If you add up all their lies, I’m sure they’re approaching my mark of 6000. Approaching, I said. All these dinos against one. Obviously I’m the victim here.”

A key part of the Muellersavus’ resilient steadfastness was his ability to never roll his eyes.

“Last question, T-Rump. Do you covet your neighbour’s property?”

“Again with the perjury trap. Just say it. You mean my neighbour’s wife, don’t you? Well, newsflash for you. I haven’t even asked you about yours — though I’m sure she must be a very beautiful dino. By the way, Bob, are you married?”

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s