Satire The Trump Dig

“Next!” …

“I’m next,” moaned the Tyrumposaurus Jr. “I just know it. The Muellersavus is going to indict me. I can feel it.”

“Take a number, squirt,” said the Rogerstone. “It’s gonna be me. Most definitely. I’ve been much more vocal than you. I go out of my way to talk to the Mediacircustops. And I’ve been bamboozling them from the start. You’re talking to the Dirty Trickster Dino. Squat down and learn from the master.”

“But you said yesterday you were going to take the fifth against the Muellersavus. My father said only a Mafiasaurus takes the fifth.”

“And then I told them I’ll only talk in a public setting … after I fed them a story in a closed cave before. New day. New story. Get the picture?”

The T-Rump nodded his approval. He nudged his son.

“Are you soaking all this in? It’s why you’re here. You can’t learn this stuff in school.”

“Wow. Is he sneakier than you, pop?”

“No chance. He’s great but I’m the greatest. He never got 400 million moolah-moolah from his father. I did. And the dinos of the Milkanhoney Preservation are none the wiser for it.”

“That’s incredible. Can I get 400 million from you, pop?”

“Very funny. Tell you what. Keep your mouth shut and I’ll see what the Saudisaurae need done for that kind of moolah-moolah. Rudy, whaddaya got for us today? And if it’s that damn Muellersavus again, so help me, I’m gonna throw this Dietcoker at you.”

The Rudygiuliani ducked instinctively.

“Fraid so, boss.”

He then ducked for real as the large moolah-moolah leaf, containing a puddle of swamp water from the less acidic end of the lagoon splashed against the Oval Dwelling wall behind him.

“Somebody get me a Dietcoker! … Damn you, Rudy. I hate you but I need you.”

“That’s politics. Uh, first off, they’ve got the Flynnhasbeen sentencing footprints in the sand.”

“And what do they say?”

“Not much.”

“That’s a good thing. Right?”

“Not exactly. We can’t read them. They’ve been heavily trampled upon.”

“What?! It’s a hoax! They’re phony! They’ve got nothing on us.”

“Apparently the Flynnhasbeen had 19 meetings with the Muellersavus. The Michaelcohen spent 70 hours with him too. Sheesh! I wish I could bill those kind of hours.”

“What’s next?”

“Ahem. The Muellersavus will be recommending sentencing for the Michaelcohen later today, which may shed light on how he’s cooperated. In, uh … multiple investigations.”

“Multiple? How many can there be?”

“Who knows? I only work here.”

The T-Rump shrugged.

“Point taken. Speaking of which, if we need more dinos, see the Foxsquawkbox. Great dinos there. Go on.”

“The Manaforta …”

“Manaforta, hah!” sneered the Rogerstone. “You never should’ve brought that guy on.”

“But he knows the Russodinos,” said the T-Rump.

“He knows how to get himself killed. Have you seen the look in the Olegderipaska’s eyes? At least I can still walk down the path in broad daylight. I got you all the information you needed through the Julianassange and the Wikileakibeak. That was me. All me.”

“We know, Roger. We know. Say, does your Madame X dino still deal …”

“She’s my Stenograsaurus,” the Rogerstone said with a low growl.

“Okay, okay. Just asking. The Tymelania is out grazing these days.”

“No, she’s not,” said the T-Rump Jr.

“Shut up, son. Where were we, Rudy?”

“The Muellersavus is also going to tell the dino world how the Manaforta lied his way out of his plea bargain deal.”

“Hah! Good luck with that. We’ve been at this thing for 19 months. How many times did the Manaforta win Liar of the Month?”

“Five. Still eight behind you, boss.”

A dejected T-Rump Jr. kicked a stone.

“I only won once.”

“You’ve gotta get out more, kid,” said the Rogerstone.

The T-Rump snapped to.

“The Sin Hut! We still have the Sin Hut.”

He stole a look at the Rudygiuliani.

“Do we?”

“Yes, of course. But this whole schmozzle with Saudisaurus crown prince and our bogus party line about him maybe-maybe not ordering the killing of the Khashoggi. Our own Grandoldparty dinos are … well, they’re mumbling …”


“A dull roar?” offered the Rudygiuliani, not wanting to duck another Dietcoker.

“Talk to me, Rudy.”

The T-Rump’s tone was the kind that typically led to an Oval Dwelling upheaval. He had just mentioned the Foxsquawkbox.

The Rudygiuliani sensed impending danger. He faced the T-Rump but his feet were already walking the other way.

“That loose-lipped, Langleyops Ginahaspel went and spilled the beans to the Sin Hut.” He started running for the doorway. “And they’re thinking of killing the Saudisaurus deal.”

“Why, you little …”

The T-Rump heaved and the drink splashed against the doorway behind the fleeing legal dino. The commotion awoke the dino slumbering there, the Marinegunkelly. He yawned and slowly rose from his haunches.

“Can I go now?”