Humor Political Satire Satire The T-Rump Dig

Bolton Bolts! …

The Mickmulvaney raced out of the Oval Dwelling, short arms waving wildly in the air. He made a bee-line, heading for the Hills of Hopelessness.
“What’s eating him?” the Tyrumpsaurus asked the Stephaniegrisham. …


The Mickmulvaney raced out of the Oval Dwelling, short arms waving wildly in the air. He made a bee-line, heading for the Hills of Hopelessness.

“What’s eating him?” the Tyrumpsaurus asked the Stephaniegrisham.

“Well, you did have him tell the Wilburross to threaten the Bamahama weather dinos that they’d be fired if they didn’t lie about the hurricane to toe your line. Then he had to field more questions, or abuse as he calls it, from the Mediacircustops regarding the Militarisaurus spending 600 nights at your Turnberry T-Rump Dump. … Um, then you were going to invite the Talibanisaurae to the Camp Davidian the very day before the Massacre Memorial. And, oh yes, news just came out that you outed our highest dino spy inside the Putinodon’s inner sanctum two years ago when you had the Russodinos inside the Oval Dwelling.”

“Is that all?”

“It, uh … did all happen in a span of 48 hours.”

“Hmph. No dino should be that close to the Putinodon. Unless it’s me of course.”

“Is that my cue to send off a bromance message from you to the Putinodon through one of our dozens of clandestine Russodino links.”

“Would you?”

She nodded with a sweet smile.

“Tonight is also the night that the ten dinos vying for the Donkeykongrus leader are meeting in the Sam Houston Hills.”

“Right. Book me in at Baltimore Bedrock.”

“But, T-Rump. You just recently called it a rodent-infested mess. Hell too. You called it hell. Are you sure you want to go back so soon?”

“Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie.”

She hung her head in shame. She hated this job already. He was always picking on her. As if she was fifth in line for her job.

“Divide and conquer. Just like the Putinodon said. Unrest is best.”

He stopped, gnawed on a Cheezbuggabugga and puzzled.

“What is it, T-Rump?”

“The Mickmulvaney running off screaming like that. Some dinos may notice. The four crises he’s dealing with.”

“Poor Mick,” she said.

“Him? What about me? He’s stealing the attention of the Mediacircustops. We can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t. The Mickmulvaney is a vane, attention-grabbing, self-serving chief of staff.”

She blinked hopefully at the T-Rump.

“That’s better. I need to do something. Now. Is the Johnbolton still squatting in the corner muttering to himself?”

“Last time I checked.”

They both turned to look toward the far corner of the Oval Dwelling where the national security dino was indeed fervently gnawing on his knuckles.



“You’re fired!”

“What? Um, could I at least say I resigned first … or make it look like we had one conversation in the past six months?”

“No. I’ll send out a Trollertweety in the morning that explains everything. If you leave now, I’ll spare you maximum embarrassment.”

The Johnbolton slowly trudged out of the cave.

And no footprint in the sand deals! the T-Rump hollered after him. I’ll deny everything! You don’t want a nickname from me!

The sour, denigrating words hung in the air.

“Are we filling the post?” asked the Stephaniegrisham, aware that on the surface, this was not an entirely stupid question.

“Do we have to?”

“I – I … think we should.”

“Okay. Which Foxsquawkbox is next in line?”

“I think our remaining dinos there are deaf, dumb or mute.”

“Never heard of them. You know that won’t do.”

“I could bring you half a dozen Grandoldparty dinos but I know you wouldn’t like them because …”

“Don’t tell me. The Mediacircustops doesn’t know’em so I won’t know’em. You know I hate that. Give me brash, bold and name-calling every time.”

He looked for her to add something to the conversation.

“And, um … pompous?”

“That’s it! Get him in here!”


“Who?! You just told me, dammit! Get a grip, girl. You know how many of the greatest dinos I know are waiting to replace you?”

She stifled back a tear and edged toward the entrance. Halfway there she finally made the connection. Ten minutes later the Mikepompeo was in the Oval Dwelling with them.

“Mike,” said the T-Rump. “I fired the Johnbolton.”


The dino secretary of state punched the air in glee.

“Easy, let’s not have the Mediacircustops think we’re celebrating. Then we’d have to answer as to why we ever got him in the first place.”

The Mikepompeo tempered his emotions somewhat, still unable to hide his goofy grin.

“Mike, I want you to take on the national security dino job. That’s two jobs for you. Same pay. One less dinos in the mix to muddy my mind. Because I’m calling the shots here. I know more than all the Intel dinos. Every last one. So, just to confirm, you’ll be ‘acting.’ You know I need to have that abuse of power. I mean, ahem … flexibility.”

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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