“B-O-R-I-N-G!”
The Tyrumposaurus watched from afar at the 10-dino debate the Donkeykongrus were holding in the swampy, knee-deep waters of the Nevereverglades.
“Hope! I mean, Huckabee! I mean … who the hell is it now? Oh, right. Stephanie!”
A split second later the Stephaniegrisham, the new Oval Dwelling press secretary-communications director-Tymelania-be-bester poked her snout over his shoulder.
“Can I help you, T-Rump?”
“This dumb Donkeykongrus debate just started … and already I’m feeling snubbed.”
“I see,” she said slowly, recalling how she dealt with her two dino children when they were tots. “Perhaps you’d like to be in a debate too?”
“Could I? I am a stable genius after all. I’d have to stand in the middle though.”
“Of course.”
“Well, don’t just stand there. If you were any slower than Huckabee, it’d be yesterday. Make it so. Now! Before I have another sexual assault charge leveled against me by some dino who isn’t even my type.”
Within the hour the Stephaniegrisham did just that. She assembled the T-Rump and 10 other dinos at nearby Gainesville Mudcrutch, a vacant lot flattened long before by the musical thunder of two dinos, the Tompetty and the Heartbreakerz rocking and rolling against each other, long into the night, belting out hard and soft rock until there was none left.
A large throng of neighboring Uber-Deploruh Bulls had gathered, snarling and snorting anxiously, anticipating an entertaining evening of trash-talk takedowns.
“Okay, Stephanie,” said the T-Rump squatting smugly center stage. “The introductions, if you will.”
“Yes, tonight we have 11 Grandoldparty candidates.”
The T-Rump raised a short arm to the sky.
“One more than the Donkeykongrus because we’re better.”
“Left to right,” the Stephaniegrisham continued, “is the Manaforta, the Saveyourenergyrex, the Kushneratops, the Duncanhunter, and ahem, because this was done on such short notice — me. On the right side of His High and Mighty and For Whom We All Grovel, the Tyrumposaurus, is the Kellyanneconvixway, the Jaysekulow, the Erictrump, the Mitchgetbacktowork and the Betsydevos.”
“Helluva job, Stephanie,” said the T-Rump. “Helluva job. All you Uber-Deploruh Bulls out there. Give her a roaring snort!”
On cue the mucus flew.
“Okay, okay,” the leader of the Dino Nation interjected the flying phlegm. “Let’s not get crazy. Remember, no licking each other. I need you next year! … Now then, Stephanie, did you get some pretty dino to, uh … you know, look after things — and mostly ask questions of me?”
Her heart sank. Damn! Her first day on the job. How could she?
“You mean a moderator?” she said weakly.
“You didn’t get one? Why the hell not?”
Off-stage the Tymelania froze the T-Rump with her Stare of a Thousand Ice Ages.
“I mean, you forgot, right? No problem. How tough can it be to find a moderator?”
The Seanhannity jumped out onto the stage.
“Pick me! Pick me!”
“I said pretty,” the T-Rump deadpanned. He spotted a female dino with her back turned to him, a few feet from the Seanhannity. “Hey, you there, pretty girl. Why don’t you be our moderator?”
The dino turned to the T-Rump. His eyes went wide.
“Megan?”
“The Meganrapinoe,” she replied.
“What are you doing here?”
“This isn’t the Oval Dwelling is it?”
“Fine. Go ahead and moderate. See if I care. If you do a great job, and I’m only saying a great, great job … I may consider inviting your team of Soccersaurae to the Oval Dwelling.”
“I’ll do my best,” she grinned impishly as she turned to the debate dinos. “Okay, let’s get this show going. A quick-hitter. Which of you dinos are currently incarcerated, being sued, received a Subpoenasaurus or is expecting a visit from one soon? Raise your hands now. Be honest.”
Five short arms slowly went up. The Manaforta, the Kushneratops, the Duncanhunter, the Kellyanneconvixway and the Betsydevos.
“Not me,” said the T-Rump. “You can’t touch me. No collusion! No obstruction!”
A random roaring snort escaped a dino in the front row. His mucus projectile splattered the Erictrump in the face.
“Hey! He spit on me!”
The Erictrump was pointing toward the Jaysekulow.
“I did not, you spoiled brat. I saw you. You didn’t even put your hand up. I know about …” He stopped and slowly turned toward the dino audience who had stopped in mid-saliva drip. “Oops.”
The Meganrapinoe smirked. I don’t even have to say a word for this debate to implode.
“Questions, Megan,” said the T-Rump, rolling his hands one over the other, urging her to move the debate along.
“Uh, you mean like the questions from the Muellersavus that you refused to answer?”
“Not those questions. You know what I mean. The easy-peasy questions like the Seanhannity tosses me every night for the Foxsquawkbox dinos.”
He cast an eye off-stage at the Seanhannity, whose long, stepped-upon tail began eagerly thumping the ground.
The T-Rump cocked his head.
“She’s still prettier than you, Sean.”
The moderator regained control.
“This question is for the Saveyourenergyrex. Since I don’t see this Grandoldparty group going forward at all, if you had your old job back, how would you have worked differently with the Kushneratops?”
The former Secretary of State Dino glared at the prim and proper senior dino adviser beside him.
“I’d have kicked him with my other foot. To the moon, Kushy! To the moon!”
The Meganrapinoe nodded to the Stephaniegrisham.
“Stephanie, you’re new around here. Given that the dino beside you, the Duncanhunter has been accused of using campaign moolah-moolah leaves to bungle in the jungle and otherwise entertain no less than 5 lady dinos and today had yet another dino accuse him of groping, are you the least bit worried as you squat there beside him?”
The Stephaniegrisham cast an anxious glance at the Duncanhunter. He leered back at her.
“Yes, I do bite. And I have campaign moolah moolah. What more could you want?”
“My follow-up question, Stephanie … notwithstanding he may follow you home … do you have your fellow Grandoldparty member — this dino’s back?”
The Stephaniegrisham suddenly found herself pining for the safe sanctuary of the Tymelania’s Melancholy Mud Pit.
“Stonewall, Stephanie!” the T-Rump hollered. “Stonewall!”
The Meganrapinoe rolled her eyes.
“You can’t stonewall in a debate, dummy.”
Every dino froze. You could hear a pebble roll over in the light breeze.
Uh-oh, thought the Majority Leader. The T-Rump had been exposed. The Mitchgetbacktowork had to get back to work. Fast.
The Kentucky Gobbler stole a look to either side. To his right, the Erictrump; to his left, the Betsydevos. This called for a calculated risk.
“Hey! Look, everyone! I’m surrounded by a pair of morons!”
The Erictrump sighed, lowering his gaze. Not so the Betsydevos. Her face hardened and she threw out her chest defiantly.
“I am not a moron. I am the Secretary of the Edge of Vacation.”
The Meganrapinoe tabbed the Kellyanneconvixway for her final question.
“Kellyanne, I’m sure the dinos in the audience are well aware of your point-zero-zero-zero-one percent chance of appearing before the committee to answer for your alleged Hatch Act violation. If you actually do appear, can you share with us any alternative facts you plan on providing?”
“I resemble that remark. But I’m still surprised at you for bringing that up, Stephanie. I would just like to point out that when it comes to alternative facts there’s the thesaurus and then there’s me. I don’t believe I need to tell you who is better.”
“Thesaurus?” asked the T-Rump. “What Thesaurus? Do I know her?”
David Belisle 