Like a cow, humor must be milked daily.
“She has what?!”
The Tyrumposaurus stared in shock at the Kellyanneconvixway, who repeated the breaking news.
“The Omarosa has 200 tapeworms.”
“But how? How did she get them?”
“Right here in the Oval Dwelling, I suppose. She was always in here.” …
“You mean, she got them from right here?”
“Are they gonna bring us food? They better bring us food,” said Juror 1.
Several other jurors nodded, smacking their lips expectantly. Juror 2 smacked his head.
“Damn. I forgot my lactate leaves.”
It was the first day of jury deliberations following closing arguments of the Manaforta trial. Dinosaur court was similar to kangaroo court, except for the jumping to conclusions. …
“Well? Well? How’d it go?”
An anxious Rogerstone asked the Manhatinhandmadam as he welcomed her into his small, sparsely decorated cave. He liked it that way, for quick exits to chase down any Mediacircustops looking to fill a slow news day.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me hello?” …
The Rickyprisongates looked up the muddy sides of the Solitary Sinkhole for the light of day and sighed. He had come clean. He’d admitted to lying to the Langleyops, to laundering millions of moolah-moolah leaves on the wrong river banks …
The Tyrumposaurus fumbled in the dim light of his night chamber. A grope here. A grope there. He grunted in dismay. No luck. He knew he’d left it here somewhere.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” …
“Class.”
The Trumpassic Period Grade Seven dino teacher, the old, decrepit Black Boardbarker, spoke in the bored, nasal monotone symptomatic of IBS — Instructional Burnout Syndrome. …
