“C’mere, son. Pull up a rock.”
The Tyrumposaurus watched as his son, the T-Rump Jr. looked around the Oval Dwelling. All the available squatting rocks were either too small or too large to push around.
“Oh,” said the T-Rump. “That’s right. All the rocks are getting washed this week. You’ll have to squat on the floor.”
The T-Rump Jr. parked his rump before his father.
“Have I done something wrong?”
“Today? No. This is my executive time. And a large part of that time I spend gloating of course. Which brings me to my point. Now you know I’ve taught you everything you know.”
“But not everything you know, dad.”
“Right again. Greed, son. It’s all about the moolah-moolah leaves. He who has the most moolah-moolah leaves sleeps the fittest at night. With or without the Tymelania. That’s why I want the Gee-Seven-Showed-Up to come to the Doral Gnats’n All.”
“To stay with the Tymelania?”
“No. Well … hmm. No. But back to greed. That’s why I had the Mincepencenow stay at Doonbeg.”
“And that’s why you had all the Militarisaurus staying at Turnberry.”
“629 times, son. 629 times to the tune of 11 million moolah-moolah leaves over the past two years. That’s how you keep a failing T-Rump dump from going under into weeds, rotting carcasses and unkempt dino squatters.”
There was a tail lash against the outside wall.
“Come in if you have moolah-moolah,” said the T-Rump, smiling smugly to his son. Another teaching moment not wasted.
Both dinos were caught off-guard however by their visitor. The Elijahcummings, he of the Kongrus Kave, chair dino on the committee of Hairy Eyeball Scrutiny and Scrap If Need Be.
The T-Rump bristled.
“What do you want, Cummings?”
“I’m happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest punishment for absolute abuse of power by the highest dino in the history of our nation.”
“Uh, come again?”
“Two years ago, you took an oath of the Continental Footprint to lead. Your momentous decree has unfortunately gone belly-up and now my committee and I are the great beacon light of hope to millions of dinosaurs who have been left to grovel in the shadows of your incredible greed and corruption.”
“I promise you that that Continental Footprint you so muddied up guarantees that all dinos have the rights to life, liberty and a leader who’s supposed to lead. It’s obvious you have defaulted big-time on this virtue. I’m here to remind the Milkanhoney Preservation and the Nancypelosi that there is the fierce urgency of now.”
“Excuse me,” said the T-Rump. “You mean delay, stonewall and drag my feet.”
The Elijahcummings ignored him.
“This is no time to engage in the tranquilizing drug of your fake news. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of monstrous malfeasance to the sunlit path of simply doing the right thing. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in dino nation until you are soundly impeached. The whirlwinds of your shady moolah-moolah leaves will continue to chill the souls of dinos everywhere until the bright day of your exodus from the Oval Dwelling.”
“Don’t worry, son. It’s just a scare tactic. They got nothin’.”
The Elijahcummings cast an accusing claw at him.
“You are indeed guilty of wrongful deeds. Sinfully wrong! You’ve been drinking from the deep end of the lagoon, deep in bitterness and hatred. The dinos I represent conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We can’t allow ourselves to degenerate into the crass, foul language and racist, misogynist behavior you’ve thrust upon us. But that disgust is for another day.”
“We must rise to the majestic heights of fair play and dare I say, common sense. We must not be led to distrust as evidenced by your confounding presence in the Oval Dwelling everyday. Our destiny is not tied to your infamy. Oh no, your infamy is destined for the Solitary Sinkhole, just as sure as your son can’t find a rock to squat on. Your family will be squatting alone.”
“We can never be satisfied as long as the dino is the victim of the unconscionable horrors of your profound profiteering. We can never be satisfied as long as dinos heavy with the fatigue of travel are lining your nest with their moolah-moolah leaves as they come calling at Doral Gnats’n All … or lay their heads down at Doonbeg … or turn in at Turnberry. We can never be satisfied as long as you shock our senses and rob our dignity by having official moolah-moolah leaves earmarked “For T-Rump Only.” No, no, we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down your orange back like a volcano’s molten lava.”
“Can you do that?” asked the T-Rump Jr.
“We have a fresh, narrow Solitary Sinkhole waiting for you because we’ve been staggered by your bribery and fraud. So, I’m terribly sorry, but you can’t go back to Doral Gnats’n All. You can’t go back to Doonbeg. You can’t go back to Turnberry. Not gonna happen. Unh-unh. But feel free to wallow in the deep Valley of Despair. Amen.”
“He’s done, right?” said the T-Rump Jr., turning to his father. A frown from the T-Rump said otherwise. The dino with the hairy eyeball continued.
“I say to you today. I still have esteem. For the law. I have esteem that one day this dino nation will rise up and roar loudly with the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident: That even the Grandoldparty has half a brain.”
“I have esteem that we will soon have all the information we need to find out where you got all your illegal moolah-moolah from. I have esteem that your five children will one day live in a dino nation where they will not be judged by the blindness of your greed but by the content of their character. Following years of therapy of course.”
“I have esteem that all your crooked cons will be made straight and that the glory of the law will be revealed and that all the dinos shall see it together. I have esteem that one day you’ll be able to squat with all the other dinos. In the Solitary Sinkhole.”
“This is our hope. Our faith that we’ll be able to hew out from your rocky mountain of recklessness a stone of justice. To transform the jangling discords of your deception on our senses into the soothing refrains of truth.”
“And if the Milkanhoney Preservation is to be a great dino nation this must become true. So let freedom from grotesque grifting ring from the doglegs of Doral Gnats’n All. Let freedom from unethical behavior ring from the deep rough of Doonbeg. Let freedom from immoral greed ring from the sand traps of Turnberry.”
“And when this happens, when we allow these freedoms to ring, Donkeykongrus and Grandoldparty dinos will be able to join short hands and sing in the words of the old Gospelsaurus, “Free at last! Free at last! Thank Gawdalmighty, we are free — of YOU — at last!”