“I was terrible out there. Terrible! That was the worst. How could you let this happen to me? How could you, Mark?”
A panicked Tyrumposaurus slumped behind his rocky, resolute monolith desk. The Markmeadows wiped his sweaty brow and tread carefully, wondering how he could accidentally trip on his tail and knock himself unconscious so as not to answer the question. Sycophancy trumped pain.
“It’s all my fault, T-Rump. Every last word you said. My fault. That was supposed to be a town hall where they were supposed to worship and praise you. And give you softball questions.
“No, instead they grilled me on whether or not I took a test the day of the first debate. They said it was the honour system. They should know better. And the pandemic. I said we could’ve had 2 million dead dinos but we’re only at 215,000.”
“But then you said one dead dino is one too much.”
“You see? I can’t even fake kindness. And I told them I will look after dinos with pre-existing conditions.”
“But, uh … you have a case before the Dino Supreme Court that would wipe them out.”
“C’mon. You know me. I’m just covering my bases. I can’t lose. I never lose.”
The T-Rump slumped again. He was slumping a lot lately.
“19 days. 19 days until the November battle. I don’t like the looks of this. Eight, ten, twelve points behind the Joebiden. Everywhere. I’m begging the subterranean cave lady dinos and they’re not biting. No one’s biting. I’m living in a Trumpassic Period with no teeth, dammit! What the hell is going on, Mark? Don’t just stand there. Do something!”
Twenty minutes later, the Markmeadows returned with the Jayferguson, a bronzed, amphibious, archipelago-hopping dino. The T-Rump gave him the once over and nodded.
“Nice tan. What’s your secret?”
“Lots of archipelago hopping.”
“You don’t say. Do you bump into any archangels? Twenty-somethings?”
“To quote the Amyconeybarrett, I’m not sure where you’re going with that?”
“Ahem. Yes. Well, she’s a lock. And I need to be a lock too. Whatcha got for me?”
“Well, the Rudygiuliani gave me some new Russodino info on your opponent … if you’re up for more Russodino info.”
The T-Rump looked at the Markmeadows and chuckled.
“I like this guy. Am I up for Russodino info. Does my wife hate Christmas? Okay, Jay. Let ‘er rip.”
Sha la, la, la, la, la, they’re shady
In Ukraine, that was Biden’s son
Play it again, Sam
Calling his name cuz Joe’s in the way
We’ll make ’em pay, graspin’ as we’re slidin’
Chasin’ tails, outing Hunterbiden
He was a bold, new Burisma newcomer
Thanks to dad, it was his to plunder
Until came the prosecutor’s bark
Corruption gone wild!
So Papa Joe stepped in to do his fighting
Sound the alarm, outing Hunterbiden
Under our nose
Their criminal past
And there goes Joe, laughing at his free pass
Father and son lying like it’s all FINE!
It’s not fine
So, sha la, la, la, la, la, they’re shady
He’s the one, that was Biden’s son
We’ll have a trial today and every day
Put Billbarr as the reaper
He’ll dismember their rights like T-Rump planned
One more try, outing Hunterbiden
You can hear the musical version of today’s post and previous T-Rump Digs at my podcast site at Podbean. Two new T-Rump tracks every Saturday. Enjoy!