The Amybermanjackson scowled down her snout at her prey. She’d just sentenced the Manaforta to an additional 43 months in the Solitary Sinkhole. Her nostril-flaring focus however, was on the Tyrumposaurus’ ex-battle campaign manager’s legal dino, the Kevindowning.
“Kevin.”
The judge motioned with her tail for him to step toward her rocky bench to be within tail and tongue-lashing distance. The Kevindowning straightened his shoulders and half-staggered, half-trudged before her. Her long tongue slithered out, touched her nose and quickly recoiled into her gaping mouth. This was dino legalese for showing who was boss. Her tone was gravel-raking serious.
“I want you to pay the utmost strict attention to what I’m about to say.”
The Kevindowning’s stare however, had already settled upon a nearby hummingbird lightly dancing, fairly flitting a few feet away, sucking in nectar, knocking back …
“Kevin! Look at me!”
Streams of saliva dripped from her juice-laden jowls.
“I’m only going to say this once. Your client, the Manaforta, was never, ever tried in my dino court for colluding with the Russodinos. No legal dino here referred to collusion, it was not discussed. Not. One. Peep. I’m telling you right now that you are NOT … look at me, Kevin … you are NOT going to stand on the ledge outside my dino court cave and have the audacity to tell the Mediacircustops otherwise. Do I make myself perfectly cave-your-head-in clear?”
“Well …”
“Kevin?”
“I’ll think about it.”
The Amybermanjackson’s fiery glare fairly seared into the eyes of the Kevindowning, searching for a soul she could sink her razor-sharp incisors into. After a few seconds she realized it was a wild goose chase.
Not three minutes later, on the ledge outside her dino court cave, the Kevindowning stood before a scrum of Mediacircustops, all chomping, molars grinding away, ready to digest his words. The Kevindowning stuck out his chest with confidence.
“I just want you all to know, the Amybermanjackson begged me to come out here to tell you that after — forget about the seven-year sentence — she has completely exonerated the Manaforta from all charges of collusion with the Russodinos.”
“She did not!”
It was a voice in the crowd. A voice of reason that, however anonymous, rang true, a voice of welcomed wisdom, heaven-sent to still the masses regarding the madness of all things Manaforta. Especially those he’d managed with the T-Rump — a mingling of two manic minds. Because pardons were the lowest dingleberries dangling from a branch that even a 70-year old Manaforta could reach.
“She never said that, Downing! You’re lying through your teeth! You call yourself a legal dino?! You’re an embarrassment to the rule of law!”
The anonymous voice of reason effectively drowned out the Manaforta’s lawyer. The next voice came from a Mediacircustops.
“Newsflash. The Manhatinhand dino court has just indicted your client on 16 counts. What do you have to say now that a T-Rump pardon for the Manaforta won’t keep him out of the Solitary Sinkhole?”
“Look,” said the Kevindowning. “I have it on very good authority that the, uh … Attorney General dino for the Southern District of Manhatinhand, is that still the Letitiajames?”
Confused nods from several Mediacircustops spurred him on.
“She told me the deepest darkest political secret which I’m now sharing with you …”
The Mediacircustops all leaned in close.
“She said there was NO collusion. That’s right, no collusion.”
“But you never met with her,” scoffed one Mediacircustops. “The case is months away.”
The Kevindowning cocked his head, dismissing the comment as trivial.
“Hey!” hollered another Mediacircustops. “Is that the Mattwhitaker?”
Sure enough. The one-time stop-gap, flop-sweat attorney general was squatting off to the side, wistfully recalling his glory days when the Mediacircustops hung on his every word. A Mediacircustops pounced on him nevertheless.
“You were just grilled by the Jerrynadler who says you did not deny that you spoke with the T-Rump about the Michaelcohen investigation. Why can’t you just give a straight answer?”
The Mattwhitaker opened his mouth and the pores on his forehead.
“You want a straight answer? Fine. I’ll give you one. Didn’t say didn’t doesn’t mean did. Okay? I did however speak with the Southern District Manhatinhand legal dino, the Geoffreyjackson.”
The Kevindowning jumped in front of him.
“The Geoffreyjackson said there was NO collusion!”
“Wrong jackson, you idiot!” bellowed the voice of reason.
Suddenly two short arms rose above the crowd. They waved, outstretched, drawing attention, seemingly begging for it. It was the Rogerstone, coming from his own dino court date. It was open dino court season for all members of the T-Rump’s inner circle. These were his movers and shakers waiting to squat still in the Solitary Sinkhole. More gratuitous grandstanding from the Rogerstone.
“Hello, everyone! Did I tell you about my latest revised footprints in the sand? You know, the ones I’m not supposed to tell you about because my judge, the Amybermanjackson …”
“She said NO collusion!”
The Kevindowning jumped the Rogerstone and the two dinos fell to the ground, locked in a battle for the Mediacircustops attention. It was merely comic relief for the Mediacircustops. For they knew all too well, that while the T-Rump may call their facts fake news, the facts from the Amybermanjackson stayed facts. Tried and true. To the letter of the law.
David Belisle 