‘Twas three nights after shutdown, when in my dwelling,
Mice yanked out whiskers at my latest retelling;
“I’m all alone, poor me,” I heard myself bawl,
“Oh, please, Donkeykongrus, I want my damn wall!”
Grandoldparty dinos nestled in their beds,
Visions of greed and power danced in their heads.
The wife and I, with my Dietcoker nightcap,
Had just settled our brains after one lengthy scrap–
When outside the cave there arose such a clatter,
Melania said, “Be best, Go! What is matter?”
Away to the doorway, I waddled real slow,
At this time of the night, I sure had to go.
The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow,
My mind was on Stormy, if you really must know;
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a dino chain-gang, and all eight drawing near,
With a lanky old driver, one heckuva puller,
“Gawdamnit!” I cursed. If that ain’t Bob Mueller!
Like slow, slogging snails, his culprits they came,
And he whistled, then roared, and called them by name:
“Now! Don Jr., now! Manaforta, now! Gates and Cohen,
“On! Kushner, on! Weisselberg, on! Pecker and Stone;
“To that doorway right there, go and stop by that cave!
“Pick up your feet! Pick up your feet! Don’t misbehave!”
As dry heaves announced their ascent to my place,
Could they see the worry that leapt from my face?
So up to my home base, these culprits, they drew,
Sweaty hands clutching cold tails — and Mueller too.
And then in a twinkling, I heard my heart sink.
You know that feeling, when you need a stiff drink?
As I drew in my head, blessed fuming I found,
I’d need it for Mueller, who now stood his ground.
He had that stoic look from his head to his foot,
Then a long, tarnished glare. My life was kaput!
A bundle of nerves, I fell on my back.
He was enjoying all this! The stupid sad sack!
His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry,
How I wished him a case of acute beriberi!
His slack-jawed smile was drawn up like a bow,
I considered playing dead right there in the snow;
My guilty verdict he held tight in his teeth,
Years in the hole encircled his head like a wreath.
The Manaforta then spoke, slapping his belly,
“This time I’ll talk, for some real dino jelly.”
Kushner, skinny and weak, a right sickly tall elf,
And I laughed at my in-law in spite of myself;
But Mueller’s coy wink and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had so much to dread.
He said, “My report,” and went straight to his work,
Obstruction?! Collusion?! I called him a jerk!
And laying a long claw aside of his nose,
‘Twas the sign of the damned. Good god! There I froze!
He turned to his gang, to the lot gave a whistle,
And dragged them away, one disaster dismissal.
But I heard him exclaim, ere they trudged out of sight–
Ho! Ho! To the Sinkhole! I shall return! Good night!
David Belisle 