Like a cow, humor must be milked daily.
Day 963 — I Have Esteem … and … Day 967 — Bolton Bolts!
“A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-G-H!”
The Mickmulvaney raced out of the Oval Dwelling, short arms waving wildly in the air. He made a bee-line, heading for the Hills of Hopelessness.
“What’s eating him?” the Tyrumpsaurus asked the Stephaniegrisham. …
“C’mere, son. Pull up a rock.”
The Tyrumposaurus watched as his son, the T-Rump Jr. looked around the Oval Dwelling. All the available squatting rocks were either too small or too large to push around.
“Oh,” said the T-Rump. “That’s right. All the rocks are getting washed this week. You’ll have to squat on the floor.”
Day 956 — Fu*ked Up … and … Day 960 — Bamahama Sham-o-rama
“Be careful, T-Rump. Watch your step.”
The Stephaniegrisham carefully led the dino ruler through the ravaging flood waters of Charleston Landing. She’d most recently been the Mediacircustops dino for the Oval Dwelling until a devastating loss
It was a somber gathering. Tyrumposaurus tail-waggers and several dino officials from the Permian Basin in the Land of Longhorns squatted behind a flat rock. More of their underlings squatted behind them, short arms folded, quietly licking their chops. …
