Satire The Trump Dig

The Puppet Strings Tighten …

The news hung in the air like a rotting dino carcass baking in the sun.
The extra-smelly news had reached the three dinosaurs in the Oval Dwelling. Word was out that the Langleyops dinos had investigated the Tyrumposaurus the previous year for working for the Russodinos. …

The news hung in the air like a rotting dinosaur carcass baking in the sun.

The extra-smelly news had reached the three dinos in the Oval Dwelling. Word was out that the Langleyops dinos had investigated the Tyrumposaurus the previous year for working for the Russodinos.

“That’s the most insulting thing I’ve ever been asked! Ever!”

The T-Rump turned to the Huckabeecyclops and the Mikepompeo.

“How was that? Did that sound convincing enough? I can roar a little louder.”

“No, T-Rump,” said the Huckabeecyclops. “That was fine. You don’t want them to think you’re throwing another T.T.”


“Temper Tan-”

“Right, right. What do you have for me, Huckabee?”

“The usual. I’ll just throw those no-good Langleyops, the Comeyonus and the Andrewmccabe under the Priebusunderbus and I’ll call this … I’ll call it … absurd.”


“The thought that you’re a threat to the Milkanhoney Preservation security is absolutely, uh … it’s coming to me … ludicrous. Yeah, ludicrous.”

The secretary of state dino shared a relieved look with the Huckabeecyclops that said they were both running out of adjectives to frame the T-Rump’s disgust at his perceived criminal activity.

The T-Rump nodded.

“Absurd. Ludicrous. That’s good. But I’ve got more problems. Always with the problems.”

The T-Rump’s tail twitched threateningly.

The Mikepompeo rose from his squat.

“Can I go now? Sorry, but I need to leave when you’re mad. I feel like a prisoner being tortured.”

“Fine. Leave then. Just so you know, I’ll be keeping my eye out for another acting cabinet member. Bye-bye.”

The Mikepompeo stealthily snuck out of the room.

“Huckabee, the Mediacircustops are pointing to all the times I’ve favoured the Putinodon. This party line of me being tougher on the Russodinos than the Obamarus is two years old now and wearing thin. What can I say when they point out that the Russodinos have paid $109 million — all crisp moolah-moolah leaves — for 86 of my luxury caves in the past 15 years?”

“You’re okay. They can’t prove which river bank you washed those leaves on!”

“Right. Then my own Langleyops dinos say the Russodinos helped me win and that they got the Crookadillary’s secrets the very same day I asked them to.”

“That’s just a big coincidence, T-Rump. A hundred coincidences are still a hundred coincidences.”

“Speaking of a hundred, that’s how many contacts my team made with the Russodinos. Time sure flies when you’re having fun. How do I explain that?”

“I suggest you don’t call it fun. Call it an occupational hazard.”

“But the Carterpage, the Papadopoulos, the Manaforta, the Rickyprisongates and the Flynnhasbeen. They all got way too close to the Moscovian Bluffs.”

“Let’s blame that on … on bad, uh … migration patterns. Just a bunch of lost dinos. Happens all the time.”

“And what the heck was the Manaforta doing giving that information to those two Ukrainia chuckleheads? What were they possibly going to do with info about our dinos?”

“None of our Gap-Toothed Goobers are going to make the connection between Ukrainia and the Muscovian Bluffs. We don’t even have a foreign policy.”

“The Putinodon said it would be simpler this way. So I go and fire the Comeyonus, I bring the Russodinos into the Oval Dwelling to celebrate getting rid of that nutjob and now the Benjaminwittes says that the obstruction was the collusion. What the hell?”

“That’s ridiculous. Sounds like one of Rudy’s perjury traps. Obstruction’s obstruction, collusion’s collusion and never the brain shall meet. I will burn it into the Mediacircustops.”

“Good, but I’ve called the Putinodon a strong leader, I backed him all the way at Smelstinki and I congratulated him on his victory after you told me not to. There’s that.”

“But your tone. Your tone was strong. Let’s call it a strong tone.”

“The strongest tone that tones have ever known?”

“Sure, I can run with that. Anything else? You know I’ve got your back. I’m in this until I can no longer dine out.”

“Well, the latest is that I’ve provided no details for all five meetings I’ve had with the Putinodon. Every dino in the land is whining, transparency, transparency. I’m not keeping anything under wraps. I couldn’t care less.”

“Let’s hope your interpreter feels the same way. What did you tell him?”

“Just to be quiet unless he wanted to be the first dino mime. Post-tonsillectomy.

“Nobody likes a mime. I’m sorry, T-Rump, but this makes no sense.”

“Make it make sense, dammit! I’d ask the Stephenmillerus if he wasn’t off somewhere laughing diabolically at this record-breaking 24-day shut-down.”

“Hmm. How about we just say that your words were so inflammatory, so vicious toward the Putinodon, vitriol never seen before — outside of your daily briefing, that is — that it would have even made your base blush! They could never live that down of course. You had to destroy those footprints in the sand. To save the face of your base.”

“Wow. You are the best liar, Huckabee! I will always dangle that pardon for you.”

“Don’t I know it. I’m still your once-a-month grandstand gal.”

“Uh, you don’t have to put it quite like that. I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

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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