“A little more, a little to the right.”
The Jimjordan’s tail pointed directions from behind the massive boulder. A huge Brontosaurus pushed the stone in front of the cave, concealing the Jimjordan and the Markmeadows inside and in the dark.
“Uh, Jim?”
“What is it?”
“How are we going to get out later?”
“Details, Mark. We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”
The two dinos were inside the Gollee-Gotcha Tomb near Calvary Crossing. It was a Grandoldparty cave used as a think tank in generations past. Not as much thinking done these days. Now just another old dinos’ club.
Today was the Great Dino Sabbath, a spring day when dinos counted their blessings. Without opposing thumbs. The celebration featured little dino tots scampering around searching for dino eggs. The novelty had long since worn off however, as it was next to impossible to hide a dinosaur egg.
Inside the dark cave, the Jimjordan and the Markmeadows held their tails over their hearts and together recited their dino party’s maxim, “A Posse’s Creed.”
“We believe in capitalism,
Conservatism almighty,
Creator of corruption and greed,
And in the T-Rump,
Its most in debt dino,
Our ruler,
Who was conceived by some strange notion,
Hatched from a cracked shell,
Suffered under the Mediacircustops,
Was crucified, died and was buried on the back page;
He descended upon the Crookadillary;
On the weekend he arose to go flogging;
He ascended into obscene wealth,
–That’s comfortably well off to you and me;
He squats wherever he wants to.
From there he will mock the living and the dead.
Just ask the Mccainus.
We believe in the devil-may-care spirit,
The evangelicals pick and choose,
The compound interest,
The forgiveness of loopholes,
The deregulation of the land,
And luxury everlasting.”
“Bless you, Tricky Dick.”
“Who said that?” asked the Jimjordan.
The Markmeadows felt around in the dark.
“Is that you, Roger–”
“Correction, the Rogerstone.”
“Sorry,” said the Jimjordan. “You’re bad news. We can’t be seen with you.”
He moved to the entrance, feeling for the boulder.
“C’mon, Mark. Put your back into it.”
The two dinos huffed and puffed and pushed the big rock away from the opening. They collared the dirty trickster dino and dragged him out kicking and screaming.
“Stop it! How dare you! You can’t remove a Stone from the Tomb! You Mutt an’ Jeff, you!”
“That’s Mark and Jim,” corrected the Markmeadows.
They tossed him aside Good Samaritan Way to test the resolve of any well-meaning dino. The Markmeadows paused, looking down at the disgraced dino.
“Do you wonder sometimes if … is he the reason we’re here?”
The two dinos looked at each other.
“N-a-a-a-a-h.”
Another Brontosaurus looking to make a quick couple of moolah-moolah leaves happened by and within moments sealed them back inside the Gollee-Gotcha Tomb.
In the pitch dark, the Markmeadows sensed something other than the dank, musky odor.
“Do you smell turkey?”
“Gobble-gobble.”
The sound came from the corner.
The Jimjordan took a step closer.
“Mitch? Is that you?”
Indeed it was the Sin Hut majority leader, the Kentuckygobbler, the Mitchgetbacktowork. The Markmeadows put his hands on his hips.
“You’ve been there the whole time? How come you didn’t help us push the stone?”
“I’d like to push him off a cliff.”
“The large stone,” said the Jimjordan. “So, what are doing in here by yourself?”
“You’re not hiding are you?” asked the Markmeadows.
“After the Meullersavus report? Of course I’m hiding! The T-Rump should be in the Solitary Sinkhole for the rest of his life! His sons, his daughter, the whole lot should be fricasseed!”
Fricasseed was dino lingo for running the wrong way in a forest fire.
“Calm down, you old fart,” said the Jimjordan. “You need to loosen up and shed that outer skin now and then. Look at me.”
“Jim’s right,” said the Markmeadows. “We have ways of dealing with the Meullersavus report.”
“You do?”
“Sure,” said the Jimjordan. “If some meddling Mediacircustops asks if you think the attorney dino general was acting as the legal dino for the T-Rump and not the dino nation, well … you just answer, no, I think the A.G. rendered himself extremely well. He said we’re going to hold dinos accountable. Last week he talked about the spying that took place. Spying! I think he handled himself exactly the way all dinos want him to operate. We have to get to the bottom of the Comeyonus Cabal. He leaked info to the Mediacircustops to manufacture this need for the Meullersavus. That’s what needs to be looked at and that’s what good ol’ Billy Barr is gonna do.”
The Jimjordan clapped his hands in glee while the Markmeadows cautioned the Mitchgetbacktowork.
“Maybe you don’t want to call him Billybarr just yet. But to Jim’s point, when they ask if the T-Rump had actually fired the Muellersavus and how it would’ve change the story? You just say, we don’t know. The fact of the matter is that he did conclude the investigation. And listen, you know the T-Rump and I know the T-Rump and if he wanted to fire the Muellersavus, he damn well would’ve! Damn straight!”
The giddy Jimjordan jumped back in.
“And if they have the audacity to claim the Meullersavus was simply kicking this over to the Kongrus Kave, well … you just tell them the entire dino nation said the Muellersavus was the best legal dino in history, the definitive end-all dino and he chose not to indict. … That’s the bottom line. Most dinos are tired of this double standard. One set of rules for us regular dinos — not counting the Jeaninepirro — but a different set of rules if your name is Comeyonus or the Crookadillary.”
“Exactly,” the Markmeadows chimed in. “If we play by the Adamschiff rules, then the Adamschiff would be guilty when he met with the Glennsimpson down Fusion-Geepee-Yes way that started this entire thing, uh … in Colorado Flats. He would’ve been guilty of, of … coordinating with, with, uh … some dino who actually has put false, uh … testimony before, uh … the Langleyops. You know, those dino feds we only speak nice of when we need’em? And so, uh … when we look at this … are you still with me, Mitch?”
“Heck, no.”
“See how effective it is? So just trash the parts of the report you don’t like. Cherry pick the rest. Everybody likes cherries, right?”
The three Grandoldparty dinos nodded, salivating, jowls dripping, leaving puddles at their feet.
“Okay,” said the Jimjordan, “I think we’re good to go.”
The Markmeadows tapped the Mitchgetbacktowork on the shoulder.
“One more thing. Whatever you do, don’t pull a Giuliani.”
“How so?”
“Don’t say it’s okay to accept information from the Russodinos.”
“Good grief. I’m not an idiot.”
They leaned into the boulder and once more moved the stone from the tomb. Trollertweeties flying overhead squawked, sounding eerily similar to archangels but the dinos ignored it. They went their separate ways, making it harder for any dino to track them down.
Five minutes later the Tyrumposaurus came upon the Gollee-Gotcha Tomb. Head down, he was very animated, talking to himself.
“I never agreed to testify … I don’t have to respond to statements about me in the report … they’re total B.S. … only makes the other dino look good … and makes me look bad. Total B.S.”
He stopped in his tracks. He saw the stone moved from the tomb. He stepped closer and peered inside the dark cave.
“Mitch? Jim? Mark? I know you’re in there. Hey, did you hear the latest? The fuss from the Muellersavus report has risen up. Risen up alright. Again. It’s the worst. Total B.S. … We have to put an end to this. Guys?”
David Belisle 