They squatted like so many bumps on a log. Big but suddenly unimportant bumps. It was moving out day at the Oval Dwelling and the Tyrumposaurus, his offspring and their forlorn family broods waited patiently in an open clearing in the jungle. …
Category: Satire
Everyday Feeble …
The Mikelindell, a dino entrepreneur with a one-of-kind rock pillow that guaranteed sleep if you fell from at least ten feet, shook his head emphatically at the T-Rump.
“No, the Joebiden most certainly didn’t win the election.” …
Too Wicked and Impeached Twice …
“Alright then,” the Tyrumposaurus said to his family and final hangers-on gathered around him in the Oval Dwelling. His tone had that long familiar ring of the devil dino just before he fleeced your soul. …
Got Me Under Pressure …
“Who do they think they are? I’m asking you, just who the hell do they think they are?!”
“I don’t know, mother.”
The Mincepencenow lowered his gaze to the ground. He hated it when his wife got mad. …
Kentucky Moron …
“Uh, it’s good to see you back in the Oval Dwelling,” said the Moscowmitch. “It’s too bad you had to cut short your holiday at Mar-a-Guano.”
“I had to,” grunted the Tyrumposaurus. “I couldn’t sit there staring at the Tymelania’s gawd-awful scratchings on the wall one more minute, dammit!” …
Fixing a Hole …
The pain. Oh, the pain. The Tyrumposaurus had a splitting, smack-between-the-eyes, double-migraine headache that had him seeing stars, stripes and the red glare of ex-PLO-sion … after … ex-PLO-sion. That damn Joebiden. A pox on the Donkeykongrus. …
