Tag: Political Humor

“Get in here, Joey! Now!”

The Joeydigenova poked his long neck inside the Oval Dwelling.

“My wife too? We’re a team you know.”

Moments later the Joeydigenova and his legal lover, the Victoriatoensing, squatted across from the Tyrumposaurus.

“I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” said the T-Rump. “While you had me at the two-for-one package deal, I’m afraid this just isn’t going to work out.”

“Why not?” asked the Victoriatoensing.

“Well, I’ve changed my mind six ways to Sunday on this one … and when your gut feeling turns to major indigestion, I just can’t always chalk it up to something I ate. No hard feelings?”

“Uh, no, of course not,” said the Joeydigenova. “You mentioned good news?”

“Yes, I didn’t want you two to leave without having done something for me. That’s how the Oval Dwelling rolls.”

The legal duo chuckled at the T-Rump’s joke … but the T-Rump didn’t get it. Awkward.

“We’re listening.”

“The Stormydaniels thing is blowing up again. Damn that Mediacircustops Andersoncooper. It’s all the Tymelania’s fault. If she wouldn’t have had all those head-aches, none of this would’ve ever happened. You do see I need something — anything — to blow this Stormy mess out of the water.”

“Of course.” The legal dino duo leaned toward each other, spoke in muffled terms for a minute, nodded and turned back to the T-Rump.

“You need to ratchet things up big-time,” said the Joeydigenova. “I mean big big. Hugely big. So, what’s the craziest thing you could do?”

“That’s easy. Expel some Russodino diplomats.”

“Exactly.”

“But what will the Putinodon say?”

“Look, do you want the Stormydaniels forgotten for one day, maybe two?”

“Go on,” said the T-Rump.

“Okay, so the question is how many Russodino diplomats are we going to expel.”

“Not too many I hope. The Putinodon’s really a good guy dino.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve come up with a method of giving you plausible deniability. And you can always say this is the reason you fired us.”

“I like it already.”

“Great. To help keep you focused and reduce your Putinodon stress, we’re going to make a game of it.”

“I like games.”

“We know. … We’re going to arrive at the number of expulsions randomly.”

“You lost me.”

“Plausible deniability.”

“Gotcha.”

“Now then,” the Victoriatoensing jumped in, “for every conspiracy theory that led to dead dinos at the hands of the Putinodon, you’re going to expel 10 Russodino diplomats. Okay?”

“Dead dinos? Hah! The Putinodon would never do that. Sounds like fake news to me. Looks like I won’t have to diss him after all.”

“Let’s begin, shall we? There was the Litvinenko going down with some bad swamp water.”

“Even I remember that one. Okay. That’s ten.”

“Oh, we’re not done with the Litvinenko conspiracy. There’s the Ponomarev who also had some bad water two days before, the Matthewpuncher who invesitgated the poison and the Danielmcgrory, the Mediacircustops who reported it. All gone.

“You made your point. Ten. Next.”

“There’s the Sergeimagnitsky and the Perepilichny, both Sub Family of the Whistleblower dinosaur. Beaten, heart attack. That type of thing.”

“The Sergeimagnitsky … that lead to the …”

“Sanctionsaurus, that’s right.”

“Oh. Well,” said the T-Rump. “The Putinodon wasn’t too upset about that. I guess that’s twenty.”

The Joeydigenova leaned forward.

“For the next conspiracy, we’ll combine the Mediacircustops with the Oligarchus because one dino was relative to both. The Mikhaillesin — right here on the Milkanhoney Preservation. Then there was the Politkovskaya, a Mediacircustops covering the Second Chechen Frontier and the Yurigolubev, an Oligarchus from the Yukosoil Fields.”

The T-Rump tapped his chin with a claw.

“Dead, dead …?”

“And dead,” said the Victoriatoensing. “We’re at thirty. Let’s not forget the Garethwillliams. He was found inside the Duffelbag Barrier. He was a Londonbritwit tracking down where the Russodino moolah-moolah leaves were being washed.”

“Oh, you mean like the Manaforta and Rickyprisongates.”

“Yep. That makes forty.”

“Surely that’s gotta be it,” said the T-Rump. “I mean, if you can’t trust the Putinodon …”

“His competition, the Borisnemtsov, turned up dead in the Moscovian Bluffs. Every Russodino security guard on duty that night was looking the other way.”

“Big coincidence. But I’ll give you that one. Fifty. Let’s wrap this up before I can say fake news.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” said the Joeydigenova. “Remember the Stormydaniels. We need shock value. This final conspiracy we call the Project Moscovian Bluffs. We have the Stevenmoss, the Stevencurtis, the Robbiecurtis — no relation — the Paulcastle, the Johnnyelichaoff, the Scotyoung, the Patarkatsishvili and the mastermind, the Borisberezovsky. A pack of Londonbritwits, legal dinos and Russodinos just looking to make some moolah-moolah before they all started jumping off cliffs and suffering heart attacks in the prime of their lives.”

“C’mon. Eight dinos?” said the T-Rump.

The legal dino duo nodded.

“Well, if it’s eight, it only cost me 10 expulsions. Alright then.”

“That’s sixty total, T-Rump.”

“And you’re sure I won’t get into trouble?”

“Heck no. We coordinated this with sixteen other dinosaur-member states. You’ve got your Stormydaniels deflection and Putinodon cover. You’re good to go.”

“That’s great, you two. Just great. It’s too bad that I have to let you go. But other legal dinos are just dying to get in here, y’know. … Uh, you wouldn’t know any, would you?”

There was the rank and vile smell of guilt in the air. The Tyrumposaurus was meeting with his legal dinos. All six of them. There was the Dowderpuff, who had grudgingly become the main contact with the Muellersavus’ Moscovian Bluffs investigation; the Tycorncobb, who was really the Oval Dwelling’s counsel but liked to dine every other day with the Dowderpuff; the Joeydigenova, the latest hire, who was Sub Family to the Mediacircustops and packed a lot of bite; the Marckasowitz, who had left months before but stayed involved because he was a sucker for accident scenes; the Jaysekulow, whose long nose was second only to the T-Rump’s in forced fibs and fudging facts with the Mediacircustops; and the Michaelcohen, the T-Rump’s official fixer.

“T-Rump,” said the Dowderpuff. “I just got back from meeting with the Muellersavus. He tells me there are four main areas of the investigation he wants to ask you about in the interview.”

“Only four? That’s great! We’ve got this thing won already. I can’t wait to tell him myself I never did the dirty dino deed with the Stormydaniels.”

“The Russodino investigation, T-Rump.”

“Oh. Well, that goes for the Karenmcdougall as well. I was going to pay her but she wouldn’t take it. What, my moolah-moolah is not good enough for her?”

“I said Russodino.”

“And as for that sexual assault dino …”

“Which one?” asked the Joeydigenova, who obviously wasn’t up to speed yet.

The Dowderpuff was tired of trying to keep the T-Rump on point. He’d just raise his rates like the rest. It helped fight the stress. Being a T-Rump legal dino was akin to closing the cracks of an earthquake or putting lava back in the volcano.

“It’s the Kushneratops, isn’t it?” railed the T-Rump. That kid’s gonna kill me!”

“You’re getting warmer,” said the Dowderpuff. There were rumors amongst legal dinos that he was looking to leave the T-Rump team. He secretly believed the Muellersavus investigation had all the nuances of molten lava flowing through and obliterating the Oval Dwelling.

“Okay, then. You were wrong, I mean I was wrong. You were momentarily, er … off-base. Thankfully, I won’t have to die on the cross for you again. Your stable genius within surely guessed that the four main areas the Muellersavus is pointing us to are: one, your role in the statement provided following the kerfuffle about why the T-Rump Jr. met with all those Russodinos.”

“Three words. Father knows best.”

“I don’t think we can use Family Privilege on this one.”

“Are you saying my family isn’t privileged?”

“Moving on, the second area was the circumstances surrounding the meeting with the Russodinos.”

“Baby dinos,” said the T-Rump. “Stick with the orphaned baby dinos. Unless the Dacadreamers go tobacco loco on us. Then just call it fake news.”

“You can’t call your testimony to the Muellersavus fake news. You’re under oath.”

“What if … the orphaned baby dinos were fake?”

Even in the T-Rump’s most turbulent moments, brains froze and walnuts cracked with the hand wringing cry of “why-not-give-that-a-shot?” The lawyers nodded at the potential loopholes they could waltz through.

“Number three,” continued the Dowderpuff, “would be your firing of the Comeyonus.”

“He wasn’t loyal. AND he doesn’t like Russia.”

“You can’t say that.”

“Which one?”

“Both,” all six lawyers answered in unison.

“Finally, number four, your firing of the Flynnhasbeen.”

“That poor guy, I heard the Rushlimbaugh, bless his heart, mention three times in five minutes that the Flynnhasbeen lost his home. That’s sad. Really sad. I think I could put him up in the guest cave.”

“No, you can’t, T-Rump. You need to distance yourself from him.”

“Oh, I see. This is all about the Russodinos, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah,” said the Tycorncobb.

The T-Rump had fire in his belly. Burning bright.

“So what if I congratulated the Putinodon? We need him. I need him. He won another six-year term as the Russodino leader by defeating the opposition.”

“What opposition?” asked the Tycorncobb. The Alexeinavalny, the Putinodon’s main opponent was trapped in the Solitary Sinkhole on trumped up charges.

“He is not a crooked-necked dinosaur,” said the T-Rump. “73 percent of the Russodinos were squarely behind him.”

“What about the other 27 percent?” said the Tycorncobb. “I worry we may never see them again.”.

The Dowderpuff frowned at the Tycorncobb.

“Are you done yet?”

The T-Rump jumped five feet in the air.

“Don’t you EVER interrupt one of my lackies, I mean … lawyers when they’re talking about the Putinodon.”

“But … he’s not here.”

“He’s always here.”

The Dowderpuff waited for the T-Rump’s solemn, prayer-like vigil to pass.

“Don’t you guys worry,” said the T-Rump. So what if there’s not a legal dino in this neighborhood who wants to work for me, damn that Tedolson. Imagine, a former solicitor general turning me down. Who needs a solicitor general anyway?”

The half dozen legal dinos looked at each other nervously. Several coughed up phlegm from the sudden shock. The Joeydigenova wondered what he’d signed up for.

The T-Rump snapped his tail.

“I’ll just have to do it my way. Again. That’s right. My way or the other my way. I’m going to tell the Muellersavus that I plan on working with the Russodinos in the future. But let’s be clear on one thing. Just because I’ll be working with them doesn’t mean I’ll be drinking from the same pond. You got that?”

Serious nods from the legal dinos.

“Too many Russodinos have been turning up dead. It must be the water. I like the Putinodon but I like living too. Michael, you’ll have to be my new water taster.”

“But T-Rump, you still owe me 130-thousand from the, uh … non-Stormydaniels thing.”

“Okay, fair enough. 130-thousand moolah-moolah so you don’t have to drink my water first. Consider your slate clean.”

The Michaelcohen paused to mull over if his life was worth 130-thousand moolah-moolah. The T-Rump gave a snort.

That leaves you, Dowderpuff.”

The 77-year-old Dowderpuff quickly transformed into a puddle of flop sweat. This was too much. He was so close to retiring with his mate to the white, sandy shores of Why Kinky Beach. No. This wouldn’t do. He rose from his haunches.

“I quit!”

He stomped out. With that, it was officially just another day in the Oval Dwelling.

The T-Rump made a face. Then another. His latest meeting with the T-Rump Whisperers, a close lot of Neerdowell dinosaurs who had more moolah-moolah leaves than some entire Trumpassic Period species, had not gone well. They wanted him to get rid of dead weight. Except no dino was extinct yet. He’d have to do it while they were alive.

The Sessionsopposum squatted before him, sneaking peeks between giggling into his hands.

“Okay, I told you what needs to be done,” the T-Rump bellowed. “Now get out there and do it. And not one word to the Mediacircustops about this conversation.”

“You bet, T-Rump.”

With a snicker, the Sessionsopposum slithered out of the Oval Dwelling. He stopped and looked at the sun. It was a few hours before bath time, but he always felt stinky after a T-Rump meeting. The Attorney General headed down to the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir.

Moments later, he felt the soothing swamp water cleansing his dry, itchy, arthritic scales.

He felt so good, he felt a song coming on. The Sessionsopposum liked singing in the swamp. He didn’t realize however, there were several Mediacircustops on the other side of the reservoir, behind bushes, biding their time until the next earthquake-like news headline from the Oval Dwelling.

The Attorney General began warbling his swamp song, sounding eerily similar to a Lynyrd Skynyrd tune from millions of years later.

Big wheels keep on earning

Carry me home to save my skin

Singing wrongs about the T-Rump

I miss ‘ole’ Bama Hama, I done sinned again

Well I heard the T-Rump call me beleaguered

Well I heard the T-Rump put me down

Well, I hope he will remember

He won’t be ‘round much longer anyhow

Sweet home Bama Hama

Where my lies are so true

Sweet home Bama Hama

McCabe, I’m comin’ to fire you

In Birmingham they loved Judgeroymoore, boo-hoo-hoo

Now we all did what we could do

Now Muellersavus does not bother me

Does your conscience bother you, tell the truth

Sweet home Bama Hama

Where my lies are so true

Sweet home Bama Hama

McCabe, I’m comin’ to fire you, here I come.

Now Moscovian Bluffs has got the Putinodon

And he’s been known to poison too (yes, he do)

Lord he scares me off so much

I did recuse myself, now how ‘bout you?

Sweet home Bama Hama

Where my lies are so true

Sweet home Bama Hama

McCabe, I’m comin’ to fire you

Sweet home Bama Hama, oh sweet home

Where my lies are so true and Judgeroymoore’s blue

Sweet home Bama Hama

McCabe, I’m comin’ to fire you

The Sessionsopposum smiled and shook his head to get the swamp water out of his ears. He didn’t hear the Mediacircustops racing through the jungle to spread the latest news.

With the turn of a phrase came the winds of change, sweeping yet again through the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir, splashing more mounds of mud in the face of the muddy-faced in this chaotic, quixotic quagmire, the Trumpassic Period.

Sadly, the once stalwart Saveyourenergyrex had stuck his neck out too far, publicly admonishing the Putinodon and his ruthless lot of Russodinos for their obvious role in sending a Nervegasattackaurus upon the Sergeiskripal, a former Kayjeebeeops gone rogue.

The Tyrumposaurus promptly fired his Secretary of State. Some dinos claim it was retribution as well for the Saveyourenergyrex having months before privately called the T-Rump a moron. Many dinos wanted to know what he really thought of the T-Rump.

Thus, another opening to fill. Another itch to scratch. There were few walnuts left to crack, few daring dinos on the T-Rump’s Triple-S List of sidekicks, sycophants and souls for sale.

“All right,” said the T-Rump. “We’re all here.” He looked around the Oval Dwelling at the just-glad-to-be-here faces of the Mikepompeo, the Devilnunesmemo and the Stephenmillerus.

“I’ve already sent out my fleet of Trollertweeties announcing today’s changes.”

The Stephenmillerus nodded profusely.

“We all understand the disgusting horror you’re faced with when having to personally dismiss a dinosaur. It obviously points to some messed-up migration path they failed to report. Vetting. We need more vetting.”

He made a bullet-point mental note for his next speech for the T-Rump.

“Be that as it may,” said the T-Rump, “Nunes, sorry about raining on your parade. Your quick whitewash of the Dino Home Committee hearings was great, just great, and deserved more Grandoldparty frenzy. But we finally got it out there. No collusion. I had my Trollertweeties positively squawking throughout the land!”

The Devilnunesmemo beamed broadly, almost swallowing his tongue.

“However,” the T-Rump continued, “I needed to steal the Mediacircustops news cycle today for the grave, very grave … the most serious mistake the Saveyourenergyrex has ever made. Is it too late to call him the Shutyourmouthrex? I mean, can you imagine him actually blaming the Putinodon for what happened to that Kayjeebeeops? Not on my watch. The Putinodon means too much to us. Er … me.”

“I’m your dino, T-Rump,” said the Mikepompeo. “I admit the rest of my Langleyops colleagues have been jumping up and down saying the Dino-Who-Can’t-Be-Named meddled in your rise to power, but remember, I have never ever mentioned the “P” or the “R” word in front of you.”

He was referring of course to Putinodon and Russodinos. Countless T-Rump aides had been released into the Wild Beyond the Wild because their sycophant status clearance had confirmed minimal brain activity.

“Wait a minute,” said the Stephenmillerus. “What about me? Secretary of State? I thought it was my turn.”

“Maybe next time.”

The Stephenmillerus rose from his squat.

“I’m a 55-year-old trapped in a 32-year-old body.” He stamped his feet impatiently. “My bio-political clock is ticking!”

“Settle down. You are after all my Senior Advisor. One of them anyway. That’s a great job title.”

“Well, I do appreciate it, T-Rump. It just sounds so … slapped together.”

“That reminds me,” the T-Rump said, turning to the Mikepompeo. “That old Marinegunkelly has got to go. I don’t think he likes me. I’m just not feeling it with him. How’d you like to be my Chief of Staff too?”

“Aw, come on!” said the Stephenmillerus.

The T-Rump ignored him.

“Would you like that, Mikey? Can we do that?”

“You can do anything, T-Rump.”

“Great. I’ll keep it in mind. Now, about those back roads to the Moscovian Bluffs. You know, those ones along the Incognito Way … ”

The Marinegunkelly hid his head in his hands. He found himself doing that a lot lately. Everyday actually, since he’d taken the job seven months previous as the Tyrumposaurus’ Chief of Staff. Such was the day-to-day chaos, a.k.a. the survival of the fraudulent in the Oval Dwelling.

He raked his claws over his bald, scaly head, trying to convince himself one more time that working with the T-Rump was not as difficult as hand-to-hand combat with a rabid Zombieraptor. Except it was.

The silver lining of today’s cloud was that incredibly, out of the blue, the T-Rump had agreed to meet with the  Kimjongadon, the rogue leader of Pingpong North. No ruling dinosaur of the Milkanhoney Preservation had ever agreed to meet the short, squat crocodile-like dictator. The meeting was still two months away, giving the Marinegunkelly valuable time to bring the T-Rump up to diplomatic snuff.

The leader of the free-running dinosaur world squatted across from the Marinegunkelly, staring at a Pornodactyl beside the Oval Dwelling’s doorway. The Marinegunkelly had arranged for a different Pornodactyl to appear every few minutes. This would keep the T-Rump focused. He had a tendency to get up during meetings and wander off to play with his Trollertweeties.

The Chief of Staff took a deep breath and turned toward the T-Rump. Here goes nothing.

“I’ve taken the liberty of inviting the Saveyourenergyrex to our meeting.”

Hearing his cue, the Saveyourenergyrex entered the Oval Dwelling with his usual grim, let’s-get-down-to-business demeanor.

“Saveyourenergyrex,” said the T-Rump. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. You can go back to whatever global backwater mud puddle you were playing in.”

The Saveyourenergyrex stopped in his tracks. He turned and frowned at the Marinegunkelly. Common sense stymied yet again.

“But he’s your Secretary of State,” said the Marinegunkelly. “He needs to be here.”

“You’re forgetting about the Victorcha.”

The Victorcha was a whiz on all things Pingpong North. Unfortunately he’d voiced an opinion that backed off any shock and chew battle plans, leaning instead towards nibbling diplomacy. His slip of the lip had cost him a plum job as the dino ambassador to Seoulkorea.

“The only dino that needs to be here …” said the T-Rump.

“Is you,” the Chief of Staff said from rote.

The Saveyourenergyrex said nothing, wishing for a speedy, catastrophic Fall of the Trumpassic Empire as he quickly exited the Oval Dwelling. The T-Rump’s gaze followed him, fell upon the latest Pornodactyl and he immediately forgot about the Secretary of State.

“T-Rump,” said the Marinegunkelly. “What I suggest you do, uh … T-Rump?”

The T-Rump finally turned around.

“Sorry, occupational hazard.”

“Yes, here’s the deal …”

“No,” said the T-Rump. “I make the deals around here.”

The Marinegunkelly stifled a groan.

“I’m going in there in full campaign mode.”

“You can’t do that, T-Rump. They didn’t vote for you.”

“But the Kimjongadon has been saying nothing but bad things about me. The nerve. … You saw how well we played in Schlitzburg. This is my big chance.”

“But they don’t know the Maxinewaters, the Chucktodd or the Conorlamb.”

“Ah,” relished the T-Rump. “Very low I.Q. … Sleepy-eyed S-O-B … Lambthesham. This show HAS to go on the road.”

Panic was written on the Marinegunkelly’s face.

“Tell me you’re not going with the Little Rocketmanosaurus crack.”

“Only if he says his belly button is bigger.”

“You do understand we’re trying to rid the peninsula of the Nuclearballisticus?”

“Now that’s a waste of time. What’s in it for me?”

“You’ve, uh … successfully weathered the storm?”

“I have? You mean the Stormydaniels has agreed to never discuss our rumbles in the jungle? That’s great. I was just wondering if she’s the next dino coming in here. Make it so.”

“No, no and no. Let’s return to Pingpong North, shall we?”

“As long as I receive ample coverage from the Mediacircustops.”

“You mean the fake news crew.”

“Did I tell you I had a dream about the Maggiehaberman last night? She told me I was her best interview. Ever.  I only said hello. Well, okay. I winked at her too. That always helps.”

“Of course, sir.”

The T-Rump sighed.

“I wish the Stormydaniels would talk more.”

“No, you don’t.”

The Marinegunkelly’s patience had finally bottomed out.

“I suppose we’ll be leaving it as the, uh … usual, then?

“Nothing but. Divide and conquer. Pandemonium … chaos. Oh, and don’t forget the ominous alternative. Heh-heh. Great line.”

The Marinegunkelly exited the Oval Dwelling, flexing his claws, wanting to rip out the tongue of the obvious source of that chilling diplomacy, the Stephenmillerus.

The Samnunbergbrain’s eyes widened and a loud burp escaped, echoing across the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir. He squatted back down at the dirty end of the reservoir and helped himself to another double sludge. He was trying to drown the embarrassment of the previous day when he’d spent six hours with various Mediacircustops. He told them he’d rather spend 18 months in the Solitary Sinkhole than share his secrets with the Muellersavus about a dozen dinos on the T-Rump’s team.

The Samnunbergbrain was doing it all to protect the Rogerstone, a herb-munching Conspiruhseetheery dino who helped him reach almost-respectable heights as a T-Rump hanger-on. He hoped the Rogerstone would arrive soon. The Samnunbergbrain was close to sharing his woes with either of the two faces that appeared to be reflecting back at him in the swamp water. Did he have a twin brother?

“Ahem.”

The Samnunbergbrain looked up.

“Roger! It’s so good to see you.” He jumped to his feet and hugged the Rogerstone as one might their surrogate father. “Five minutes after I met you, I knew you were my mentor. You’re my idol. My hero. My everything.”

“I know, I know. You don’t have to make a scene.”

The two dinos hunkered down and within minutes the double sludges were flowing. The Rogerstone swished the swamp water between his cheeks and winced at the alkali level.

“You know, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Go to every Mediacircustops in the reservoir and defend me by making a complete fool of yourself.”

“But … but I was protecting you.”

“I can look after myself,” said the Rogerstone, flexing a row of deltoids. “I practice Tai-Chi-Cheeto-Frito-Lay and therapeutic breathing to maintain my preternatural look.”

“Preternatural?”

“Beyond what is normal or natural. You might say phenomenal.”

“That’s some dirty trick.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“I can’t BELIEVE she’s doing this!”

The two dinos looked up and turned to the sound of a dino further down the reservoir’s bank. The dino splashed his tail in the swamp in frustration.

“Hey,” said the Samnunbergbrain. “Easy there. You’re spoiling our double sludges. The water has to settle just right, you know.”

“Is that you, Michael?” asked the Rogerstone. “Come on over and join us. Misery loves a down-and-out legal dino.”

The Michaelcohen sidled over and plopped down beside them.

“Have I told you guys I’m still waiting for the T-Rump to pay me back the 130-thousand moolah-moolah I had to pay the Stormydaniels?”

“Yeah,” said the Rogerstone. “Yesterday and the day before that.”

“Well, I’m still waiting.”

“Stormydaniels?” said the Samnunbergbrain. He shot a look at the Michaelcohen. “You’re not trying to drag Roger into this, are you?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Woah, settle down, tiger,” said the Rogerstone, putting a hand on the Samnunbergbrain’s shoulder. “That was the Ninahartley I had a drink with.”

“Oh.” The Samnunbergbrain turned to the Michaelcohen. “Sorry, wrong Pornodactyl.”

“Pornodactyl? Where?”

It was the Garycohn, Sub Family of the Economonyx dino. He squatted down beside the three dinos and splashed up a drink.

“Hey, Gary,” asked the Michaelcohen, “could you ask the T-Rump when I’ll get my money?”

“Sorry, I don’t work for that two-bit tyrant any more. I told him not to do it. But, oh no. He thinks he knows everything. He trots out the Steelrazorback and the Alluminnium dinos …”

“Sub Family of the Tradetariffaurus,” said the Michaelcohen.

“That’s right. So I quit. Now we can only sit and watch as he turns the Milkandhoney Preservation into … into …”

The four dinos gazed down at the reservoir before them.

“Swamp water,” muttered the Samnunbergbrain. His anger flurried anew. “Roger! They may come for you!”

“Sam. Relax. Have another double sludge.” They slurped. The RogerStone snickered.

“What’s so funny?” asked the Michaelcohen.

“The T-Rump’s dirted us all down the road, except for you. You still work for him.”

The Michaelcohen smirked.

“I know where this is going. Look, the T-Rump and Stormydaniels? I paid the 130-thousand because nothing happened!”

The dinos laughed uproariously, falling about in the swamp. The Rogerstone finally surfaced. He wiped the dirty water from his eyes.

“Say it again, Michael. It gets funnier every time. I’m simply amazed you can say it with a straight face.”

The straightest of faces strode up to the reservoir’s bank. It was the Muellersavus.

“In case you haven’t heard, gentlemen, the Stormydaniels has just sued the T-Rump.”

The dinos fell back into the water, laughing hysterically. All except for the Michaelcohen.

“Come with me, Cohen,” said the Muellersavus. “I’m not in a Subpoenasaurus mood.”

The Michaelcohen pointed meekly at the Garycohn, still rolling about on the sand, holding his belly in fits of laughter.

“I said Coh-ENN.”

The Muellersavus turned away and the Michaelcohen reluctantly followed in behind him, saying a brief legal dino prayer as they plodded away from the reservoir.