Satire The Trump Dig

T-Rump’s Six-Pack …

The Tyrumposaurus eased back into his standard Oval Dwelling squat. Prime “executive time” for some serious navel gazing. He scratched for a moment and nibbled on a Caviaraptor leg. He slapped his belly, the flabby tide rolling out and back in.

“What do you think, Mike?”

The Mincepencenow sat nearby, eyes half closed, a snore in the offing. He blinked at the sound of the T-Rump’s voice.

“Huh? I will be your everything. I mean, what’s that?”

“My six-pack. What do you think of my six-pack? Don’t be shy now.”

The second-banana sycophant paused. He was well aware the T-Rump despised bad news. As in Remodel the Oval Dwelling bad news. Oh, well, he thought. Here goes nothing.

“Your six-pack is, uh … an exercise in abominable reflex actions.”

“Not sure that’s the body part, but go on.”

“You’ve pulled your weight and shown great, ahem, muscle. Yes, all muscle in your, uh … accomplishments. You have beautiful muscles, T-Rump.”

“You really know how to pump me up, Mike.”

“That’s my job. With the muscle campaign part of your six-pack, there was some Russodino influence and, ahem, exercising with Pornodactyls and Playmatapae. Good, healthy exercising. Your muscle hushed them in a nick of time. Excellent timing. No foul there. A very civil campaign.”


“Then there’s your foundation of muscle. Some dinos may call it illegal the way you’ve mixed charity with reaping the rewards of being our leader, our king. Not me though. You are the foundation. It’s your strength. You gave. You received. Oh, how you’ve received. Muscle, I mean.”

“Thanks, Mike. I appreciate that. Uh, you were talking about my muscles?”

“Yes. I must applaud your transition team of muscle.”

The T-Rump gazed at his belly.

“I’ve never quite heard it described like that.”

“Oh, it’s there for all to see. Your transition muscle, well … it’s a national security issue.”

“You’re making me blush now.”

“No, the Flynnhasbeen and the Kysliak, the Manaforta contacting the Kushneratops, all wanting to be your powerful muscles flexed during transition. The Manaforta received 15 million moolah-moolah leaves after providing his muscle advice.”

“Hmph. Peanuts.”

“You have to start somewhere, T-Rump. I was just glad I was there to see your inaugural muscle. The beginnings of your muscle. We had a third of the staff, a quarter of the events and raised twice the moolah-moolah. That’s big-time muscle. 25 million moolah-moolah went to the Stephaniewolkoff and we have no idea about another 40 million. We can’t keep track of your muscle, it’s so great. I humbly commend you on the muscle you showed. The beginnings of it anyway. Inaugural muscle. You bet.”

“You’re not done, are you?”

“Oh, no. I could go on for days. We’re talking about your six-pack, remember? There’s your organization muscle. Let’s investigate that. I don’t see anything wrong with the Saudisaurae paying for 500 nights in your luxury caves. It was a good time to demonstrate your power and strength. I get tired just watching you. And the Tyvankanatrix? She was so proud of you too. She doubled the normal charge from 85,000 moolah-moolah per day to 175,000. But they’re nice luxury caves and foreign folks deserve to see you in action. It was a very impressive organization of muscle-heads. I mean muscle.”

“It’s all in the details. You know how I love details.”

“In closing — unless you want me to continue — your six-pack … can I call it sinister-looking?”


“I wanted to point out the administration part of your six-pack.”

“Why, of course. Flogging and Dietcokers.”

“Yes, no obstruction there. Keep drinking. But it’s no mistake that 36 of your highest ranking dinos have scampered for the hills, including the Scottpruitt and the Ryanzinke. It’s obvious they’re deathly afraid of your administration body pounding that’s surely around the corner. There. That’s your six-pack. You’re my dino hero, T-Rump. May I kneel before your six-pack of the apocalypse?

“Why ask? I couldn’t have done it without your praise, Mike. Well, of course I could’ve … but I like having you around to take my mind off the Muellersavus and the six investigations he’s discovered. So far.”

“Any time, T-Rump. Any time.”

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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