Satire The Trump Dig

A Clear, Unambiguous Message …

The Wolfblitzer and the Mikepompeo sat down to a pile of Large Four-Eyed Frogasaurus legs, a rare delicacy in Argy Bargy. It was a working lunch. The Wolfblitzer paused between legs, raising his eyebrows. …

The Wolfblitzer and the Mikepompeo sat down to a pile of Large Four-Eyed Frogasaurus legs, a rare delicacy in Argy Bargy. It was a working lunch. The Wolfblitzer paused between legs, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, Dino Secretary, You’re going to have to run that one by me again. The Wolfblitzer tapped his large nose, stretching one cavernous nostril for effect, “This ol’ sniffer has inhaled a lot of odd stories over the years. If you’d allow me to swallow my food first. (Gulp.) Okay. I’m ready.”

The Mikepompeo’s smile was almost disarming in its smug, smarmy, sliminess.  

“Wolf, the T-Rump canceled his meeting with the Putinodon because the Russodinos snatched two dozen Ukrainisailorae.”

The Wolfblitzer’s nostrils flared anew. Twice.

“So, it had nothing to do with the Michaelcohen rolling over on his belly in a plea bargain with the Muellersavus regarding luxury caves in the Moscovian Bluffs?”

“None whatsoever.”

“In all seriousness, Dino Secretary, that sounds ludicrous.”

“Uh, that’s my word, Wolf.”

“If I may present you with the timeline then. The Russodinos captured the Ukrainisailorae five days — that’s 120 hours before you canceled the Putinodon meeting, which came barely one hour after the Michaelcohen news. Would you still like to call that ludicrous?”

“Of course. It’s called sticking to the party line through hell and high water, Wolf. There’s something the Milkanhoney Preservation dinos need to understand about the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir. It makes stuff up.”

“What stuff?”




“You do realize you are the Dino Secretary of State?”

“Yes, and I stand by my ‘stuff’ statement.”

“Let’s move on. What’s your next move with the Putinodon and the Russodinos?”

“The T-Rump refuses to hold any more talks with the Putinodon until the Russodinos release the two dozen Ukrainisailorae. We want to send a clear, unambiguous message.”

“You mean like ‘stuff’.”


“Dino Secretary, the average walnut-brained dino sitting at home in his cave waiting for his next meal to crawl through the doorway can surely see through this charade. You’ve just given the T-Rump an out to never talk to the Putinodon again … because every dino from here to Timbukdino-in-a-tootoo knows the Putinodon will never return those 24 Ukrainisailorae.”


And it only serves to allow the Putinodon to take further liberties in the Ukraine Lane because the T-Rump continues to believe the Putinodon instead of his own Langleyops dinos.”


The Wolfblitzer paused, sizing his guest up with his uber-serious glare.

“That’s the third time you’ve cried Wolf. Do you think this is funny? Do I amuse you?”

“No, I wanted to change the subject because you, heh-heh … really owned me there. Let’s not give our Langleyops too much credit though. I mean, I used to work there. … And regarding the Saudisaurae, sure, it may be intelligence of ‘high confidence’ but I just, well, I no longer know what that means.”

“Intelligence or high confidence?”

“Wolf, are you super smart today or am I just that dumb?”

“We have breaking news, Dino Secretary.”

The Mikepompeo spun around.


“Okay, so I’ve known this for the past two hours. There are Saudisaurae secrets that include messages between the crown prince dino and the lead dino of the Khashoggi hit squad. Some dinos are even calling this information clear and unambiguous. How would you characterize it?”

“Could we talk about the Mexicodinos instead, Wolf?”

“Chalk up another win for the old greyskin. Okay. I’ll take that topic. Are the Mexicodinos going to build the Great Tex-Mex Divide for you?”

“The wall’s going to get built.”

“By the Mexicodinos?”

“The wall’s going to get built, Wolf.”

“In 30 days?! I don’t think so, Dino Secretary. I’m tired of wasting perfectly good questions on you. Fake news? You’re unresponsive, meaning no news. What are you dinos even doing in the Oval Dwelling? Playing parlor games?

He slapped away the Mikepompeo’s hand reaching for more food.

“That’s it. You’re cut off. No more Large Four-Eyed Frogasaurus legs for you. Not until you come back with some real answers, dammit!”

The Mikepompeo slunk away into the bushes, unable to shake the humiliation.

Blitzed by the Wolf. Never again.

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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