Satire The Trump Dig

How to Make an Emergency …

It was all hands on deck in the Oval Dwelling for Day 35 of the Shut-down … or the Shut-Show as some Mediacircustops were now calling it. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Even the in-laws had been called in to help boost the Tyrumposaurus’ waning popularity. It was vital they put the proper spin on this to relate better with the average dinosaur at home in his cave starving to death. The T-Rump spoke first, lest some dino by accident might say the same words and steal his thunder.

“Those dinos out of work will make adjustments. I know they will. I also know for a fact they spend every waking hour of every day praying for me and my Great Tex-Mex Divide.”

“They certainly are,” said the Laratyrump. “Sure, it’s a little bit of pain, but it’s going to be for the future of our dino nation and their dino tots and their dino tots’ dino tots, and generations after them will thank them for going hungry right now. Dinos know, you know.”

She gave the Kevinhassett a high-five, who continued the fake sympathy.

“And not only that, why, it’s like these dinos are on vacation! They don’t have to work, they’re not getting docked vacation days … I mean, does anybody think we should do this more often?”

“Easy, Kevin,” said the T-Rump. “I like your enthusiasm but I’ve got one Rudy already. Wilbur, you’re a man of 700 million moolah-moolah leaves, you dirty dino, you. What secrets could you share with our Shutdown shut-ins?”

The 81-year-old Wilburross hobbled over from his favorite wheezing position in the corner.

“Well, I just find it hard to fathom why these dinos don’t simply venture out and get a loan. Because right now I’m offering a dino-belly low 9 percent interest rate — this week only — to any dino who wants a month’s pay on the spot. You might want to take advantage of this right away because I just might die soon. You never know.”

The T-Rump clapped his hands.

“That’s great everyone. Great job. Let’s get these talking points out there right away. With Rudy out there flapping his gums and Kellyanne saying the wall is not a wall, this is great obfu– … uh, obfu — … Stephen, help me.”

“Obfuscation,” said the Stephenmillerus.

“T-Rump,” said the Kellyanneconvixway, “that lunatic Lannydavis wants to censure you and have Rudy arrested for witness tampering. That is s-o-o-o-o low … how dare they compare us to Mafiasaurae.”

“Hmm.” The T-Rump paused. “Does the Lannydavis have a father-in-law?”

“He’s dead, boss,” said the Stephenmillerus.

“Damn. Oh well, at least I’m not going to die.”

Most of the dinos in the room believed him.

“Oh,” said the T-Rump. “Before I forget, is there anything the Russodinos need done while we’re in this shutdown? Something to make us at least look busy?”

“Not really,” said the Huckabeecyclops, “but on that note, the Rachelmaddow said that the shutdown was part of their master plan. How can you believe that left-wing, string-bean Mediacircustops?”

“You’re talking to me now, Huckabee,” said the T-Rump. “That means the Muellersavus is getting closer. Would someone go wind Rudy up?”

“T-Rump, I’ve got it!”

“What is it, Stephen?”

“I’ve got a way for us to end the shut-down, get your Great Tex-Mex Divide done and draw attention away from the Russodinos as instigators of this shut-down.”

“Too many details. You lost me.”

“We can do this! It’s so crazy, it just may work.”

“I like crazy. Go on.”

“We use the National Emergencies Act and simply declare a national emergency.”

“What about Nancy? She’s just going to say no. Sometimes late at night, she scares me, you know.”

“It’s like this, boss. No leader has ever been as … uh, outside-the-box? … as you. The act doesn’t define what a national emergency even is, but once you declare it, all kind of moolah-moolah becomes available.


“That’s right. We can grab 3-and-a-half billion from the Meteor Defense Fund. You know, that money set aside for the Big One?”

“Right,” said the T-Rump. “Good riddance to those nervous Nellies scampering around whining, ‘the end is near.’”

“Then there’s another 3 billion in civil works funds, like when we pushed those boulders into the river so we could cross, remember?”

“Sure. Bridges. Walls. Same thing.”

“Let’s not forget 680 million from the Treasury forfeiture funds.”

“Hey!” roared the T-Rump. “That was already my moolah-moolah. I’m beginning to like this!”

“And finally, 200 million from Homeland Security.”

“Why not? We can take that right out of the Kirstjennielsen’s budget. She can do without. So many others are. Tell her it’s a penalty because she still hasn’t tracked down all those migrating Latinonacho dino tots. Be sure to have Kellyanne leak that to the Mediacircustops.”

The T-Rump sat back on his haunches and sighed triumphantly.

“Great job, Stephen. I’ll show Nancy who’s boss. No speech? We’ll see about that. She can’t touch my national emergency. It’s all mine. Because nobody shuts down the T-Rump.”

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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s