Satire The Trump Dig

And There Was Light …

Inside the Oval Dwelling, the Huckabeecyclops’ mood was somber. Her lazy, wandering eye found the Tyrumposaurus.
“Blessed be the fruit,” she said.
“Alright already, Huckabee,” said the T-Rump. “And stop looking at me like that. …

Inside the Oval Dwelling, the Huckabeecyclops’ mood was somber. Her lazy, wandering eye found the Tyrumposaurus.

“Blessed be the fruit,” she said.

“Alright already, Huckabee,” said the T-Rump. “And stop looking at me like that. I didn’t drive you to religion. Give your head a shake and squat. The Mincepencenow has an official status report on the Middle Eastlands. Mike?”

“Yes, oh, esteemed T-Rump. I can say with absolute, complete and total certainty that our fine dinosaur forces have put a triumphant end to the Isisasaurus threat.

Two nanoseconds later there came a great roar of clashing dinosaurs in the distance. Horrific shrieks and the painful wails of mortal dino combat filled the cave, causing the T-Rump to shudder.

“What is it, Mike?”  

“I’m sorry, T-Rump, but that was the unmistakable sound of several of our own brave dinos being senselessly slaughtered by rebel Isisasaurus.”

“Great, you idiot. Why’d you have to go and say that?”

“But you said.”

“That’s right,” said the T-Rump. “I said. I can get away with anything. But you. One sentence and you make a mess of it. No wonder every dino lies to you.”

“Every one?”

“Newsflash, Mike. Even me.”

The Mincepencenow was crestfallen. His shoulders slumped and a single dino tear rolled down his cheek.

The T-Rump shook his head.

“Why is everybody so sad? None of you appreciate chaos. You really don’t. Steven, what’s up with the Donkeykongrus? Tell me they all caught hoof-and-mouth disease and are gravely ill.”

The Stephenmillerus smirked.

“Unfortunately not, T-Rump. However, we do have an issue. The Nancypelosi is forcing us to move your State of the Preservation Address to sometime after the shutdown. Some poppycock about it not looking good for you to pat yourself on the back while dinos are starving.”

“Why that … that …” The T-Rump grabbed the Stephenmillerus by the throat. “I want you to find me a dino who knows a terrible, horrible, derogatory word that rhymes with Pelosi, you got that?”

“Gulp. Yes, T-Rump.”

“What are we going to do with her in the meantime? I want her to feel pain.”

The Huckabeecyclops forgot religion and brightened.

“She was planning a trip to see our fighting dinos in the Afghan Sandstand.”

“Big deal,” said the T-Rump. “What good is that?”

The Stephenmillerus clapped his hands.

“She bumped your speech. You bump her trip.”

The T-Rump beamed.

“What would I do without you two? I’m serious. You do know they’re going to throw you both in the Solitary Sinkhole when this is over.”

The two conniving cohorts looked at each other.

“But what a ride!” they sang together.

“Okay, so, while you’re at it,” said the T-Rump. “Cancel the trip to Daveys.”

“Davos,” said the Stephenmillerus.


“But you don’t have to,” said the Huckabeecyclops.

“Nonsense! I didn’t want to go anyway. If I can’t have a secret meeting with the Putinodon, why bother?”

“Uh, T-Rump?”

“What now, Huckabee?”

“Did you know that the Williambarr and the Muellersavus are, um … friends?”

“What?! Why am I finding out about this now? I spend all this time lying about the Comeyonus being friends with the Muellersavus and now my new attorney general dino actually is. How did this happen?”

“Remember the No Vetting Rule you put in place two years ago?”

“Ancient history. But don’t change a thing. We don’t have time for that. Hell, we don’t even have dinos for that.”

“We need more dinos to keep up with this breaking news,” the Stephenmillerus said almost proudly. “The Michaelcohen blabbed about those two polls you rigged for 50,000 moolah-moolah leaves.”

“Yes. Hmm. I’m thinking family.”

A confused look from the Dino of Deportation.

“Not my family,” said the T-Rump. “The Michaelcohen’s family. Hit him where it hurts.”

“Oh, I think he just hit us where it hurts.”

“How so?”

The Stephenmillerus paused. The kind of pause signaling profoundly bad news.

“He told the Mediacircustops that you told him to lie to the Kongrus Kave about your proposed luxury caves in the Moscovian Bluffs. They have the footprints in the sand to prove it. It’s a crime, T-Rump. They finally got you!”

The T-Rump grabbed his chest. His eyes rolled over. He fainted, falling forward in a perfect face plant.

A rumbling roar in the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir rose to a crescendo of patriotic proportions, echoing throughout the land as dinosaurs young and old turned their tonsils to the skies to proclaim …

“Praise be!”

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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