Satire The Trump Dig

At Home with the Michaelzeldin …

“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. But he was busy analyzing the legal intricacies of the Muellersavus investigation. 19 indictments and 5 guilty pleas had him positively giddy.

“Michael! The garbage!”

With a sigh, he rose from his squat. A moment later he stood beside his wife of 43 years, the Amyrudnick. They’d been high school sweethearts, she mauling any dinosaur that picked on him and his schoolboy charm. She pointed down at the gutted, rotting corpse of a full-grown Iguanadon at their feet.

“Honestly, Michael. It stinks to high heaven. The neighbors are beginning to complain.”

The Michaelzeldin tapped his chin.

“I believe that indictment portends phase one.”

“Alright already with your indictments. I want it out of here!”

“You’ve obviously worked through a logical progression to get to this mandate.”

“If you mean that I’ve been constantly tripping over it …”

He nudged it with his foot.

“There are a lot of pressure points here.”

“Don’t start with the jeopardy he was in, Michael. We ate him four days ago! I want this out of my sight. Now!”

“Well, when you take into consideration the multiple work streams …”

“Good grief! It’s just one Iguanadon.”

“It’s actually sort of a narrative.”

Your narrative. Every single day. Irrespective of this. Irrespective of that. My mother told me about legal dinos like you.”

His eyes brightened and he smiled politely.

“What did she say?”

His wife wasn’t falling for his charm card.

“I’m not telling.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no executive privilege here. You’re showing obstructionist behaviour.”

“Oh, that’s rich. You’re the one refusing to move this mess!”

“Amy, please don’t be like that.”

“Whaddaya gonna do, hold me in contempt? Huh?”

“There’s a lot of activity implicated in that kind of indictment.”

“Meanwhile, this Iguanadon continues to rot in my living room. How’m I gonna get that iguana smell out of the floor? So help me, Michael … Sometimes I could just …”

“Hurt me?” He gulped. “With all due respect, dear, you wouldn’t find yourself free of criminal liability and conviction.”

She threw her hands in the air.

“That does it, Michael. I’m leaving.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you appear to be disingenuous.”

She stepped up to him, firmly planting her nose against his.

“Oh, this is a very genuine good-bye. I’ll be at my mother’s.”

With that, she turned and stomped out of the cave. He looked after her, licking his dry lips nervously. An idea struck.

“Amy! You do realize that that would be a predicate to a collusive arrangement between you and your mother. Don’t you, Amy? … Amy?”