Not So Special …

The Dickydurbin of the Sin Hut Moolah-Moolah Committee stared across the flat rock at the Secretary of Education dino, the Betsydevos. She smiled at him with a grin that was awkwardly disarming. Was she expecting some kind of door prize? Undaunted, the Dickydurbin began his line of questioning.

“How’d you get this job again?”

“My father-in-law owns the Amway Archipelago — the chain of mud ponds that no dino can pass without taking a dip. And surely you’ve heard of my brother, the Erikprince? He was at that Seychelles-by-the-Seashore meeting, the one the Muellersavus was investigating? Call my crazy, but I believe there’s a link between those two things and my being here.”

“As to your being here, dino secretary, I’ll cut to the chase.”

“Did you just say you’re going to chase me?”

“It’s a cliché.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you personally approve the elimination of the 18 million moolah-moolah leaves from your budget to help the Special Dino Games?

“The budget process is a collaborative one. Coh-lab-or-a-tive. That’s my big word for the day. It’s been my responsibility to present the budget here. The T-Rump’s budget, you know. The big guy?

The Dickydurbin tapped the flat rock impatiently.

“I think a yes or no will do.”

“Well, I’m just the boss … which means I didn’t come close to being personally involved.”

“Alright. Whenever you figure out what exact role you played, you can give the delusional dino who made that decision a special dino games gold medal for Walnut Whacko.

The Betsydevos perked right up. A small fire inside made her smile flash a little brighter.

“Let’s not use disabled dinos in a twisted way for your political narrative. Um. That is just disgusting. And it’s shameful too.”

“No, your eliminating 18 million from a 68 billion moolah-moolah budget is shameful.”

“Did you say billion?”

“I did.”

“How many zeros is that?”

“Look, dino secretary, I’m not twisting it. I asked you to answer yes or no.”

“It’s not a yes or no answer.” Hmm, she thought to herself. She racked her wee brain. What is it that other Grandoldparty dinos do? Oh, right. Deflect. Distract. “Ahem, did I tell you about my favorite charter schools? They’re the wave of the future, you know.”

The Dickydurbin wasn’t buying it.

“You couldn’t even get this cut through when you controlled the Kongrus Kave and the Sin Hut!”

“I had to do something. Do you know how much spare time I have on my hands?”

“Dino secretary, do you understand this is a life-affirming event for many of these special dinos?”

“Of course I do. You’re describing an erupting volcano to a dino who has stumbled into a few. Don’t get me wrong. I love the Special Dino Games. I love its work. I’ve personally supported its mission. I think the Special Dino Games is an awesome event.”

“Do you know how many kids are going to be affected by this cut?”

“I have no idea. And no, I have not intentionally visited any of these games.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I should. Say, is there something else you wanted to tell me to help me do my job better? You know, I never went to a public school. Or worked in one.”

“You may go now. Please. … Hurry. … I said, Leave.”

She trudged outside the cave and stopped dead in her tracks. The T-Rump stood there waiting for her. One look said he wasn’t here for a peck on the cheek.

“You know, normally I don’t ask this of the dinos in my cabinet. But … do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Sometimes. I mean, a little less than that.”

“I’m overriding you, Betsy.”

“Why, thank you. Where are we riding to?”

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