David Belisle

“You want to run that by me again?”
Milkanhoney Preservation District Dino Judge, the Amitmehta, stared down from his lofty, rocky perch at the T-Rump legal dino, the Williamconsovoy.
“Certainly, your long-tailedness. You see, we simply can’t have those dastardly Donkeykongrus dinos …

“Donald!”
The Tyrumposaurus cocked an ear and frowned. Damn. It was the Tymelania. He swallowed the rest of his Dietcoker and trudged to the doorway of the Oval Dwelling.
“May I come in?” she asked.
“What do you want?”
“I’m your wife, remember?” …

“We can’t trust him! We can’t.”
The T-Rump glared at the sorry lot of sycophants before him.
“He is a legal dino,” offered the Stephenmillerus.
“And he liked you. Once,” said the Mickmulvaney.
“You just watch,” said the T-Rump. …

“W-h-i-i-i- … W-h-i-i-i- …”
Try as she might, the Huckabeecyclops simply couldn’t whistle on her way to work. But she wouldn’t let that spoil her Monday. Not a chance.
I have the best job in the world she thought. I don’t have to do anything.