Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Bamahama Sham-o-rama …

“Be careful, T-Rump. Watch your step.”
The Stephaniegrisham carefully led the dino ruler through the ravaging flood waters of Charleston Landing. She’d most recently been the Mediacircustops dino for the Oval Dwelling until a devastating loss

“Be careful, T-Rump. Watch your step.”

The Stephaniegrisham carefully led the dino ruler through the ravaging flood waters of Charleston Landing. She’d most recently been the Mediacircustops dino for the Oval Dwelling until a devastating loss in a war of words with the Briankarem which had seen her demoted to lowly FILLER — First In Line Leaping Extreme Rivers, vis a vis today’s flood water tester.

The T-Rump frowned at the dino nation’s plight that had dragged him away from a fine day he could’ve spent flogging at Mar-a-Guano

“Where are we again?”

“Charleston Landing.”

“Excuse me. There were good dinos. On both sides.”

“No, T-Rump. That was the Charlottesville Divide.”


He paused to look at the damage around them. Massive flooding had reduced dino caves, dens and sea-side shelters to muddy, mind-numbing misery. Dinos by the dozens staggered around, looking lost, haggard, trying to make sense of what had happened. The hurricane had come, clashed and conquered. So many had lost their homes. One elderly dino lay on his side nearby. He saw the T-Rump and raised a feeble short arm, begging for help. 

The T-Rump turned and pointed at the nearest Mediacircustops in tow.

“You there, I was right about Bamahama. Like I said, the great dino den of Bamahama was originally projected to be hit. It was strongly suggested even. I mean, that’s a definite thing. It was most likely going to be hit much harder than anticipated. It was looking like it was going to be hit by the most powerful hurricane ever in the history of hurricanes. Because hurricanes are winds hurried up, you know. But what a hurricane. A category five hurricane! Not that I’ve ever heard of that before. Even though I know everything. I even told everyone to be careful. Hmph. As if I care.”

“T-Rump!” hissed the Stephaniegrisham. “Filter! You’re expressing campaign-killing thoughts again.”

They turned to see the shocked face of the Mediacircustops.

“I don’t believe this. You’re still talking about Bamahama five days later?” He gestured at the damage around them. “What about Charleston?”

“What about it? Look, I’m telling you. That footprint I showed the dino world was an original footprint.”

“It was a doctored footprint. There was another footprint added to it. A sharp footprint. As a matter of fact, it looked a lot like yours. Was it?”

“Hell, no.” 

God, he loved to lie. It never got old. His latest lie was as easy and just as satisfying as the first. It was to his brain what a Dietcoker and Cheezbuggabugga was to his gut.

“Then who?” asked the Mediacircustops. “Who did it?” 

“Just go and make something up like you always do.”

“Are you deflecting again?”

“I’ve never deflected in my life.”

The Mediacircustops coughed up a lung from a large rodent. The T-Rump scowled back.

“I recognize that regurgitation. Are you calling me a liar?”

“No, I’m calling you a pathological liar.”

The Shepardsmith happened to be in the Mediacircustops gaggle. He stepped forward to face the T-Rump.

“Some things in Trumplandia are inexplicable. You said that Bamahama was at risk from the hurricane. It wasn’t. Maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you’re confused. Maybe drop the maybe. I don’t know. But you are wrong.”

“Me?” the T-Rump snarled. “Wrong? Never!”

“Just then a Trollertweety flew overhead with its unmistakable, raucous tweet.

“Squawk! This just in at the Dino Bath Day or Not Service. For the 33rd time, the Bamahama area will NOT see any impacts from the hurricane. Nothing. Nada. We repeat, no impact no matter what the T-Rump says. Don’t listen to him. He thinks a shower is … well, you know. Stay tuned for more denials because he won’t shut up! Squawk!”

“Roberts!” the T-Rump shouted. “Get over here. Now!”

The Foxsquawkbox, the Johnroberts came to the fore.

“You’re lucky you caught me. I was just talking–”

“Shut up. I know what time your show’s over. I need you to turn, look this Foxsquawkbox turncoat, the Shepardsmith in the eye and tell him he’s an idiot. Then, I want you to tell him that Bamahama was indeed about to be blown off the face of the planet. Ahem. Go ahead. I’m waiting.”

“Uh, well … you see, T-Rump. I hate to break it to you, but the dinos of Bamahama were never threatened. Not one.”

“Not even a tree in the very nearest southeast corner of Bamahama?”

“Not even a leaf.”

“Oh, no. Not you too. That does it. The Foxsquawkbox is officially dead. Where the hell did everybody go?”

“You hired them,” said the first Mediacircustops. “Oh, and in case you haven’t heard, because your Oval Dwelling staff is rarely, if ever up to speed, but did you know that presenting falsified government information publicly is a crime? You could go to the Solitary Sinkhole, y’know.”

“For a lousy weather report? Hah!”

The Mediacircustops turned to more important things like helping the down-and-out dinos struggling in the flood waters. The T-Rump simmered, his eyes glaring after the departing dino.

“Face it. I’m right and you’re wrong. Again. Oh, and by the way, thanks for your apology!”

“I never apologized!”

“Yes, you did.” 

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.

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