Like a cow, humor must be milked daily.
The news hung in the air like a rotting dino carcass baking in the sun.
The extra-smelly news had reached the three dinosaurs in the Oval Dwelling. Word was out that the Langleyops dinos had investigated the Tyrumposaurus the previous year for working for the Russodinos. …
The Rudygiuliani looked down his crusty snout at the 35 legal dinos squatting before him in a conference cave adjacent to the Oval Dwelling.
“We’re looking for a few good legal dinos. Hell, who am I kidding? We need a lot of legal dinos. …
“Pass the trailsnack, ma.”
Trailsnack was Trumpassic Period parlance for roadkill. Another unidentifiable, stomped-upon mess of intestines and entrails that tasted surprisingly like chicken.
It was the first day of a new world in the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir. The Tyrumposaurus, the Stephenmillerus and the Huckabeecyclops hunkered down in the Oval Dwelling, commiserating over that very fact. The aging wonder, the Nancypelosi, …
Inside. Alone. And angry. It was just that dangerous, toxic combination that caused many dinosaurs to throw the ‘F’ word, then the ‘E’ word around. Extinction. …
‘Twas three nights after shutdown, when in my dwelling,
Mice yanked out whiskers at my latest retelling;
“I’m all alone, poor me,” I heard myself bawl,
“Oh, please, Donkeykongrus, I want my damn wall!”
