Like a cow, humor must be milked daily.
The Tyrumposaurus stood at the makeshift rockpile podium and smiled his best cheesy grin. He looked out at the dozens of Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir faces staring back at him with expectant, calm-before-the-storm expressions. …
“Next!”
“You mean, family first,” the Kushneratops said hautily to the Marinegunkelly as he and the Tyvankanatrix filed past the chief of staff. …
“Honey! Can you take out the garbage?”
The Michaelzeldin frowned. He didn’t have time for this. Granted, the recently implemented DUMP program (Dinosaur Un-Munched Parts) had indeed kept the stench down.
The Manaforta stared at the hairy grama and sighed. The small patch of wildgrass was all he had to stare at since the Muellersavus had placed the moolah-moolah washing, ex-campaign manager under cave arrest four months earlier. …
“Why are you always picking on me?”
Standing beside the T-Rump Jr. and the Huckabeecyclops, the Kushneratops had his bottom lip tucked over his top lip.
It was almost noon. The Hopehicksbagotrix paused at the doorway to the Tyrumposaurus nest beside the Oval Dwelling. She knew the T-Rump would be alone.
