Tag: Political Humor

The still night was broken by the dull roar of the dinosaur snore outside the small hamlet of Straightforward-up-to-Heaven. The droning, dozing dino was the Jerrynadler, lead tail wagger on the Kongrus Kave investigative committee. The future of Dino Nation weighed heavily upon his wee mind. A mind that couldn’t shake the spear of a thought that suddenly pierced his wake-the-neighborhood slumber. He began talking in his sleep …

 

To impeach or overreach; that is the question

Whether ‘tis wiser in the walnut to pounce upon

The titanic untruths of a T-Rump tyranny

Or suffer the security-cleared sycophants

And by securing them, expose them? To overreach: to beseech;

No more; and by a speech to say we shed light

On this plight, this blight of billions of moolah-moolah kept from sight

That the T-Rump is heir to, ‘tis an abomination

Devoutly to be ditched. To speak, to leak;

To leak: perchance to snub: ay, there’s the club

For in that leak of stealth, such insurance wealth!

When 81 slither off as true snake oil,

Must give us pause as the Michaelcohen ‘hind closed door

That makes the Manaforta a manifest mess

For who would bear Huckabee’s huckster B.S.

The Kellyanne alt-fact, her proud man’s prompt redact

The Stormy pangs of despised love, the law’s delay,

The insolence of office and the spurns, the spurns! — from Hopehixbagotrix

That patient merit that MeToo Time’s Up takes,

And I, myself might my quietus make

Or the Rudygiuliani, whom fools still bear yet I forsake

His grunt, his sweat, his merry strife

But that the T-Rump sneer, his leer after overreach

His future detour from whose chasm

All dinos spasm, shrivels the schnizzle

And makes us rather bear the Putinodon

The crown prince and the Kimjongadon?

This new normal bringing tail betwixt bowed legs

And thus the Mitchgetbacktowork confusion

Constrained to the Stephenmillerus sick, sick thought

And enterprises of greatest, ghoulish oligarchs

With the Kushneratops, our everything expert turned awry

Yon abyss his experience.–Soft you now!

The fair Justice! Prevail, in thy horizons

Be all the T-Rump’s sins remember’d.

 

A faint smile crossed the Jerrynadler’s face, he smacked his lips and rolled over, his dull roar snore reclaiming the night.

The CPAC venue buzzed with half-truths, hyperbole and dinosaur gas lighting that would make you faint. The raucous rhetoric left many a dino wondering what the Grandoldparty strategy even was. And so began the annual Captive Puppets Anonymous Conference. With a devilish smirk and flick of his slick orange tail, the Tyrumposaurus shuffled onto the rock slab stage.

“Greetings, my fellow right-wing, isolationist, nationalist dino hardliners. Now I know last week was an epically bad one. But look at the bright side. At least the Muellersavus didn’t release his footprints in the sand. Not that I’m worried about that. You all know I can talk my way out of anything, right?

“Anything you say, T-Rump!” one leather lung shouted back.

“So now we’re waiting for these footprints in the sand and then we’ll find out who we’re dealing with. I’ll tell you. Dinos that weren’t even elected. They can’t be trusted. Sure I picked them. Never happen again because the answer is right in front of me.”

“You mean … us?” said one slack-jawed dino.

“No. Nepotism. Because you can’t pick them. They’re family. But back to the problem. So you put the wrong dinos in a couple of positions, they shouldn’t be there and … BOOM! … they’re trying to take you out with bull crap! Bull crappity, crap-crap! That felt good. Bull crap crap bull crap. Now then, where was I?”

“Uh … the Muellersavus?” came a voice from the crowd.

“Right. So the Muellersavus is running around totally unchecked, his dinos are stacked against me. They’re the 13 angriest dinos in the history of the Trumpassic Period. Are you sure none of them was involved with the Crookadillary Foundation? Because I’m saying I think one of them was running it. Why? Because I said so. Another one, I can’t say who, but I’ll tell you this dino has the worst reputation of any dino in this period. Period. He’s a killer. Oh, he may be a herbivore but he’s a killer.”

“But you know whose fault this really is? Of course you do, my captive audience. Whose fault is it?!”

“The Sessionsopossum! Why did he recuse himself?!” the crowd roared back as one. “Why the hell didn’t he tell you?!”

“Exactly. Because the Langleyops have it out for me. They hate me. It used to be called obstruction. Except we know what they call it now, don’t we?”

“Ob-Trump-shun!” the dinos hollered back.

“I can’t do anything without the Mediacircustops screaming, Ob-Trump-shun! … It doesn’t help that the Muellersavus and the Comeyonus are best friends. Oh, sure, the Comeyonus says he and the Muellersavus are not. But seriously. Who’s going to know better who the Comeyonus’ best friends are? Me or the Comeyonus?

“You, T-Rump!” the crowd shouted back.

“Thank you, my poor, put-upon puppets. In fact, I remember it all now as if it happened yesterday. I was with the Tymelania and I said, Tymelania, I’m doing something today. And she told me, you don’t have to rub it in. And I said, no, really, I’m going to do it. She heard me. She just said, be best. So I fired the Comeyonus because that’s the best I could do.”

“Speaking of best, this week I just completed the T-T-T. That’s the T-Rump Tyrant Trifecta.”

“O-o-o-o-o-h, A-a-a-a-a-h,” came the chorus from the crowd.

“I threw my Langleyops under the Priebusunderbus three times before three great leaders. The mighty Putinodon in Smelstinki, the crown prince dino regarding the Khashoggi affair and finally the Kimjongadon regarding the Ottowarmbier. They were all horrible decisions, but I came out on the right side on all of them. Thank you.”

“Way to go, T-Rump!” the crowd cheered.

“I have the Mikepompeo out there now, telling every dino that Pingpong North was not a stalemate. I actually let the Kimjongadon win. Like when I stay at home in the cave on the weekend with the Tymelania instead of going out.”

A wave of sympathy swept over the crowd at this perceived injustice. The T-Rump continued for another hour, going on about the authorities requesting evidence from his son and the Weisselberg about his family business, about the T-Rump’s role in not forcing through Kushneratops’ security clearance when he had every right to and how the T-Rump would be stomping down with his first veto to save the Great Tex-Mex Divide because even though most dinos didn’t think it was a national emergency, it most certainly was.

It was a groundswell of support that only picked up speed when the T-Rump promised more good news.

“I’m going to promote free speech at every dino place of higher learning. Except of course, for the Mediacircustops.”

There was bedlam. Dinos danced in the aisles. Visions of greed and grandeur raced around their walnuts, making them giddy. So much so, the T-Rump Jr. jumped atop a rock ledge, wildly waving his short arms.

“Let them see the Muellersavus footprints in the sand! We don’t care! Let them see all of it!”

The T-Rump frowned. Damn nepotism.

The Kongrus Kave Overbite Committee had been in session for hours. It was a public display of gnashing teeth, missing molars and political pandemonium not seen since the Watergate Strait when the Trickydickosaurus flashed a pair of two-claw victory salutes before retiring into his cave a defeated, disgraced dino crook.

After being the Tyrumposaurus’ legal dino and face-chewing fixer for a decade, the Michaelcohen was finally coming clean. There would be no more blind loyalty or lying for him, not if he wanted to spend more than the three years already due him in the Solitary Sinkhole.

“They’re calling you a pathological liar, Cohen,” said the dino chair, the Elijahcummings. “But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“Oh, no, dino chair. I have proof. Lots of it. The Mediacircustops called it a treasure trove. A treasure for the Donkeykongrus, I suspect.”

“We’re waiting.”

The Michaelcohen held up a handful of leafy dino currency. Moolah-moolah.

“This moolah-moolah has the T-Rump’s footprints all over it. Here, see?”

There were oohs and aahs from the crowd at the unmistakable three-letter mark his claws left for all to see. I. O. U.

“Black Bamahama Dino!”

The shout came from the other side of the meeting. The Markmeadows pointed behind him. Indeed there was a female Black Bamahama Dino squatting right behind him.

“This rare sighting,” the Markmeadows said, “goes to show you that the T-Rump is not racist. Now, some dinos may think this act alone is racist, but I just want to remind everyone that I no longer support all those times I said the Obamasaurus ought to head back to Kuntay-Kenya. We’re still good ol’ buddy dinos, aren’t we, Elijah?”

The Elijahcummings scrunched his eyes and sniffed his sniffer. Political pollution. That’s what this was.

“I was saving my ‘we can be better this speech’ for later, so I’ll just say this, Mark. I know you can be better.” He turned to the Michaelcohen. “What else do you have to shed that baked-in, lyin’ skin look?”

“I remember it like yesterday. The T-Rump talking with the Rogerstone who was in contact with the Julianassange and the dreaded Wikileakibeak. I don’t know about collusion but let’s not forget the golden rule.”

“The Muellersavus knows more than all of us,” the Elijahcummings said with a sigh.

“I’ve got it! Hold it! Hold it right there!”

It was the Jimjordan. He was an albino dino with predominantly white skin who stood out in the crowd, his raucous rhetoric notwithstanding.

“The Michaelcohen has perjured himself! Perjured himself in plain sight before us. And on something that is so important, so consequential that surely it must’ve impacted the reign of the Obamasaurus.”

“And what would that be?” asked the Elijahcummings.

“Before this meeting, the Mediacircustops reported that the Michaelcohen was upset about not getting a job inside the Oval Dwelling. Well, it just occurred to me, perhaps because of my albino temperament, that half an hour ago the Michaelcohen said he didn’t want to be in the Oval Dwelling. I mean, come on! This is incredible. 20 years, next case!”

Some day we’ll get back the Sin Hut, thought the Elijahcummings. Some day soon.

“Cohen, who’s the next dino in the T-Rump circle for whom we’ll be setting up the latest greatest investigation? What are we up to now? 18?”

“Again I request a brief moment to make a fool of myself,” said the Markmeadows. “Anything to monkey-up this charade. Oops, did I say that?”

“Denied.”

“Can I give my time to the Mattgaetz?”

“No. Go ahead, Cohen.”

“Thank you, dino chair. I just thought it worth noting that the Felixsater, a dino who was up to his little elbows in Russodinos and Mafiasaurae, had a cave on the same level as the T-Rump in the T-Rump Dump. There’s a good place to start.”

“Before we do that, my good dino friend.” It was the Clayhiggins, a morose Nawlins dino who was known to snap. “When the Langleyops went through your three caves looking for evidence, they took it and later gave it back to you. Is that right, my good dino?”

“Uh … yes.”

“And then you found some moolah-moolah with the T-Rump’s mark. Isn’t that right?”

“His I-O-U’s are everywhere.”

“Don’t humor me. I can only be coy. I find it highly irregular you didn’t give it back.”

“Because they already had it?”

“Yours is a feeble attempt at interrupting my five minutes here. Five minutes I’ve spent weeks preparing for just to disrupt your testimony, my good dino.”

“No, Clay. You’re the feeble dino.”

The Michaelcohen rose from his squat and pointed at the combative trio of Grandoldparty dinos. “I did the same thing that you’re doing now for 10 years. I protected the Tyrumposaurus for 10 years. I can only warn you — the more dinos that follow the T-Rump, as I did blindly, are going to suffer the same consequences that I’m suffering.”

Meanwhile, down the path, around the corner and on the other side of Patagonia, the T-Rump and the Kimjongadon squatted beside each other in Hoo-boy, Vietqualm. They were alone, the Mediacircustops having left long ago, detecting it was nothing more than Meet’n Greet II.

“Yoo-hoo!” said the T-Rump. “Mediacircustops! Look, I’m shaking the hand of the Kimjongadon. Again! Watch us. You can tell your children about it. About me.”

The Kimjongadon pulled his hand back.

“Uh, what exactly are we accomplishing here?”

“I don’t know. I was just waiting for something to, you know … happen.”

The Kimjongadon looked around. One of his dinos sprinted across the yard for show.

“Nothing’s happening. Except in the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir.”

“Oh,” said the T-Rump. “Did the Putinodon tell you?”

“Well, we both know.”

“Of course. Even before me. Great. Uh, what is it?”

“The Donkeykongrus are investigating your family. Your Tyvanka.”

“A-a-a-a-c-k!”

The T-Rump jumped from his squat.

“Gotta go. Keep in touch.”

He broke into a run, crying over his shoulder.

“I still love you.”

“Quick, quick. Come inside. Hurry!”

The Mickmulvaney ushered the Seanhannity, the Rushlimbaugh, the Lauraingraham and the Anncoulter inside the Oval Dwelling.

“What’s wrong?” asked the Seanhannity.

“It’s the T-Rump.”

“I know,” the Anncoulter said with a smirk.

“You called us all here so the T-Rump could apologize to me in front of everyone for how terrible he’s treated me.”

“No, no. The T-Rump, he’s gone whacko!”  

“Oh, sure, Mick,” said the Rushlimbaugh. “Now you’re just sounding like the radical, far-left, socialists.”

“No, I mean.” The Mickmulvaney shook his head. He was at a loss to explain this level of insanity. “Come with me.”

He led them up a rocky staircase to the T-Rump’s Time-Out Tower where they found him lying back, staring at the sky, droning on to himself, emphasizing the end of every sentence in a sing-song voice.

“We have all the records, we have every RECORD. But we’re getting close to that point again where we’ll create NEW RECORDS.”

The T-Rump was oblivious to his visitors.

“He’s a babbling buffoon,” the Seanhannity whispered to the Mickmulvaney. “How long has this been going on?”

“Ever since his national emergency speech. All this chaos piled upon chaos. An emergency that’s not an emergency. I think he just finally snapped.”

The T-Rump droned on.

“They say walls don’t work, everyone knows WALLS WORK. It’s all a big lie, it’s all a big CON GAME.”

“What do you want us to do?” asked the Rushlimbaugh. “If you listen closely, I’m catching a lump of coal conservatism. I think he’s making some sense.”

“Are you kidding?” snapped the Mickmulvaney. “This is embarrassing. Listen to him.”

“We’ve removed thousands of Emmessthirteen gang monsters. THOUSANDS. We take’em out by the thousands. And they’re monsters. Okay, I’ll take QUESTIONS.”

“I know,” said the Lauraingraham. “First, If you tell any dino what I’m about to say, I’ll scratch your eyes out, but I used to babble just like that when I was a little dino tot. My mother would … here, let me show you.”

She went over to the T-Rump and clamped her hands over his nose and mouth. The words stopped, his cheeks turned red, his eyes widened.

“That should do it,” the Lauraingraham said, letting go.

“I spoke with a couple of generals. They think this is FAR MORE IMPORTANT. I won’t go into details, but it didn’t sound too IMPORTANT TO ME.”

The Foxsquawkbox dinos shrugged.

“It was worth a shot,” said the Lauraingraham.

On went the T-Rump.

“But any deal I make with China, the Cryingchuck’s going to STAND UP AND SAY … Oh, it should’ve been better. Y’know what? That’s not ACCEPTABLE TO ME.”

“He’s all over the place,” said the Anncoulter. “He can’t hold onto one simple thought. Maybe one word might work. Hmm. Let’s go back to his first word. Wall. P-s-s-s-t, T-Rump! The wall.”

“We have chain migration where a bad person comes in, brings 22 or 23 OR THIRTY-FIVE of his family members because he has his mother, his grandmother, his sister, his cousin, his uncle, THEY’RE ALL IN.”

“Close,” said the Seanhannity, “but still not close enough to say that I even know the guy.”

The T-Rump continued.

“The Seanhannity has been a terrific, terrific supporter OF WHAT I DO. The Rushlimbaugh, the Lauraingraham. I like the Anncoulter but she’s off the reservation, but any dino that knows her UNDERSTANDS THAT.

“Let me at him!”

The Anncoulter rushed the T-Rump. The Mickmulvaney grabbed her as she went by, hauling her to the ground.

“You can’t hit him. He’s defenseless.”

“He will be when I’m through with him.”

“Sit! Sit down! You’re fake news. You HAVE AN AGENDA. The numbers that you gave are wrong. Your statistics are far worse THAN THE ONES I USE.

“Can’t you guys do something?” the Mickmulvaney pleaded from his knees. “I’m going to go bonkers if I have to listen to this much longer. I didn’t take this job for – for … this.”

“If the Main Stream Mediacircustops sees this,” said the Rushlimbaugh,  “we’re doomed.”

They squatted helplessly beside the T-Rump.

“I don’t want to speak for the Obamarus, but I believe he would’ve gone to war WITH THE KIMJONGADON. In fact he told me he was so close to starting a big war WITH PING PONG NORTH.”

“That’s it,” said the Seanhannity. “Somebody has to do something.” He stepped forward. “What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. Or improve ratings.”

He stood over the T-Rump, staring down at the verbally challenged leader.

“We have to fight fire with fire.”

The Rushlimbaugh sighed.

“It’s a shame we know what fire is but we’re too dumb to make it.”

The Seanhannity leaned down close to the T-Rump’s face, took a deep breath and shouted.

“National emergency!”

The T-Rump’s face twitched. Except the non sequiturs didn’t stop. They sped up.

“And we will have a national emergency … and we will then be SUED … and they will sue us in the 9th CIRCUIT … even though it shouldn’t BE THERE …”

“Ohmigod!” said the Mickmulvaney, turning to the Seanhannity. “What have you done?”

“We’ve created a monster!” said the Anncoulter.

“And we will possibly get a bad RULING … and then we’ll get another bad RULING … and then we’ll end up in the Supreme COURT … and hopefully we’ll get a fair SHAKE … and we’ll win in the Supreme COURT … just like the BAN …

They could only watch as the Grandoldparty grand poo-bah verbally pooped the bed.

“They sued us in the 9th CIRCUIT … and we LOST … and then we lost in the appellate DIVISION … and then we went to the Supreme COURT … and we WON … and it was very interesting because yesterday they were talking about the ban.”

The T-Rump blinked his eyes and stopped talking. His handlers gasped. The sing-song agony was over.

The T-Rump propped himself up on his elbows.

“Wow. The whole gang’s here. Uh, why? … Oh, I know. You’re here to tell me what I need to do next, right?”

No answer came from the shocked dino’s gaping mouths. The T-Rump studied them carefully.

“Well, c’mon. Out with it. … Uh, you guys are beginning to make me nervous.”

His large, spongy feet had barely stamped the government spending bill — avoiding his record fourth shutdown of the government — when the Tyrumposaurus turned to the Mediacircustops and said, “and now I’m calling for a national emergency. That’s right. You left me no choice. I had to do it. You knew I would. And now you’re going to sue me. You always do. So that’s on you. But when I win, you don’t report that. You never do. So sue me. Go ahead, report that.”

The Mitchgetbacktowork had mixed feelings. This was the same Mitchgetbacktowork who had once greedily licked his chops, dragging his feet for a year on the Obamarus’ Merrickgarland Supreme Dino Court nomination before the T-Rump took over. Except there was no smug satisfaction now for the Mitchgetbacktowork. No, the T-Rump had just declared a national emergency at the Great Tex-Mex Divide and 200 million dinosaurs knew it was pure poppycock. It set a dangerous precedent.

But the weekend loomed and the Mitchgetbacktowork turned on his heel to leave. The Kentucky Gobbler would need to keep out of the public eye so he took the less-traveled Dead Dino Pass through a sketchy neighborhood to get home. He thought that after staring into his backyard reflecting pool for 48 hours, telling himself a national emergency was the only way the T-Rump would okay the spending bill, perhaps then he could show his face again. He hoped. There was simply no negotiating with the Donkeykongrus, he told himself. There was no negotiating the next corner of the steep trail either. He slipped, fell, rolled tail over torso 50 feet down into a ravine, conking his head on several trees — Bonk! Bonk! Bonk! — in the process. He finally came to a stop and fell asleep.

For twelve years.

It was a wandering dino, nuzzling wild Mary Jane plants, who came to the sleeping dino’s aid. The good samaritan splashed water on the Mitchgetbacktowork’s face.

“Wha — … Who are you?”

“I’m the Cheechmarin, geezer dude. Sub family of the Refugeeraptor.”

“Ack! Unhand me! You shouldn’t even be here. You’re an illegal dino, I know it. You took the wrong migration route, didn’t you?”

“Hey, you old fart. Heh-heh. Where you been? I’m legal now. Like you.”

“What do you mean where have I been? I just fell asleep, that’s all. I’ve got to check on the T-Rump. Remind the staff about his hourly patronizing and cajoling. Can’t forget the cajoling.”

“Say, geezer dude. You look familiar. Do I know you?”

“No, uh … just another Kentucky Gobbler. You seen one, you seen’em all.”

The Mitchgetbacktowork started down the trail.

“Hey, geezer dude, you’re goin’ the wrong way.”

“But I need to see the T-Rump …:”

“Okay, well … he’s in the T-Rump Wing.”

“They named a wing after him?”

“They had to. All his family’s with him. Sons, his daughter. Keep’em all together, y’know?”

“But where?”

“Where? The Solitary Sinkhole of course.”

“The T-Rump’s in jail? Already?”

“He’s in jail for life, geezer dude. You don’t remember all the illegal stuff he did? Lyin’, lyin’ and more lyin’? Did I say lyin’? An’ conspiracy? His mytaxes returnus. His moolah-moolah laundering with the Putinodon? Don’t forget the treason, geezer dude. He’s a national embarrassment. Didn’t you read the Muellersavus Report? ”

“Uh, I’m afraid not.”

“Well, you have to. It’s required reading, geezer dude. C’mon, we need to show you those footprints in the sand.”

Half an hour later, the two dinos were back on the beaten path. They passed by dinos, young and old. Gay, cheerful dinos, smile at the ready. A gleam in their eye. The Mitchgetbacktowork sniffed the air. It smelt different.

“The air smells fresh. Clean even.”

“Of course. It’s all part of the Green New Deal, geezer dude.”

“The Ocasiocortez?”

“Tha’s right. The new leader of the Milkanhoney Preservation.”

“Leader? How the …”

“You’ve been asleep too long, geezer dude. After the T-Rump was impeached, he resigned. The Mincepencenow finished the term. He wouldn’t pardon the T-Rump because he lied to him too much. And especially not after the staged mistress incident.”

“Which one?”

“Does it matter? We have a new lifestyle now, geezer dude.”

“Ahem. I’m too old for that.”

“Not that. No dino is too old for happy thoughts.”

“Happy thoughts?”

“You heard me, geezer dude. Look around.”

They paused to take in the happy, smiling dino faces around them.

“You’re right. Why on earth is every dino smiling?”

“We have free health care. The single dino-payer system. Free education. Every dino goes to Stegasaurus State. Go, Stegs, Go!”

“But – but … that’s socialism! Left-wing, radical, extreme socialism! The Grandoldparty would never allow it!”

“The Grandoldparty? Don’t look now, but they’re extinct, geezer dude.”

“Extinct?”

“Tha’s right. Heh-heh. I know. You was here before me, nose deep in the Mary Jane. You must think you’re dreamin.’”

“I’m not?”

“No, geezer dude. You’re right here with me.”

“Uh … tell me more?”

“So after the T-Rump’s bogus national emergency, the dino nation swore no more crazy dinos. No loco dinos. The Donkeykongrus came to power, the migration routes opened up …”

“The southern border is a trap!”

“Heh-heh. Tha’s right. A real tourist trap. The Great Tex-Mex Divide was torn down and the Milkanhoney Preservation has never been a better place to live. The Middleclassaurus has returned and they’re thriving. And safe. Remember that dangerous dino pet in every home?”

“The Gunsandmoregunz?”

“Gone, geezer dude. Outlawed. All thanks to the Grandoldparty using that precedent, the national emergency … when there never was one.”

The Mitchgetbacktowork stared dumbfounded at the ground. The Cheechmarin put a hand on his shoulder.

“Why so glum, geezer dude?”

“I can’t … why, I can’t believe it. I killed the Grandoldparty.”

“That was you?! Geezer dude, you’re my hero! You killed the Grandoldparty so dino democracy could live, geezer dude! You da Geezer Dude!

There came a royal knock and the Oval Dwelling occupants quickly rose from their collective squats. The Crown Dino of the Saudisaurae, the Muhammedbensalman, or MBS as the Mediacircustops called him, was visiting the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir on very important business. He entered the cave, his tail rolling regally.

“Welcome, your excellency,” said the T-Rump. “Please, take my seat.”

The Crown Dino sniffed at it before squatting with a frown.

“Hmph. Next time I will need a bigger rock.”

“Of course you will. Call me the Little Rock. It’s all the Crookadillary’s fault.”

“But this isn’t her fault. No, as I look around your den of thieves I see you all have one thing in common.”

The T-Rump grinned smugly. The MBS’s tone changed.

“I’m surrounded by idiots!”

His tail lashed out and around the room. Every dinosaur ducked except for the T-Rump, still grinning, He’d never had to duck before. He took the blow to the back of the head.

“Ow!”

He rubbed his noggin gingerly. MBS tail from left field. Duly noted. His eyes watered but he didn’t cry. He was a big dino now.

The Hogangidley raised his short arm.

“Excuse me, your excellency. You mentioned idiots. Does that include me? I really don’t know anything. That’s right. Nobody tells me anything, except for me to just say, “I’m not sure, uh … we’re not involved and, uh … I’m not aware. There, I remembered all three. Whew.”

The MBS eyed the T-Rump.

“This is the best Oval Dwelling mouthpiece you have?”

“Well, no actually. The Huckabeecyclops and the Kellyanneconvixway both called in sick today. They know what you do to well-meaning Mediacircustops.”

“They’re well-meaning?”

“Of course not. They didn’t want to take a chance.”

“Oh. Well then, what is this I’m hearing about blackmail? And extortion? What kind of amateur hour are you running here?” The MBS glare bore down on the T-Rump.

“It’s a disaster. That’s what it is. I squat, waiting in the Oval Dwelling and nothing happens. Nothing! I have it on good authority from the Foxsquawkbox dinos that it’s all the Donkeykongrus’ fault. The Seanhannity and the Rushlimbaugh complain about those radical, far-left, liberal, socialists all day long. I know. I watch them. Every single mistake — the Donkeykongrus.”

“No, T-Rump. You are the leader. Your mistakes are squatting in front of me.”

“Whatever you say, MBS.”

The Crown Dino turned to the Davidpecker.

“I thought I told you to take care of the Jeffbezos.”

“You did, your excellency. We had him right where we wanted him. We’ve done this dozens of times. Never a slip. We told him he’d have to say our intentions were not politically motivated or we’d reveal those racy footprints in the sand of him and the Laurensanchez.”

“And?”

“MBS, this has never happened before. I promise you. Call it the curse of capitalism — a dino with too many moolah-moolah leaves. That’s it. We, uh … forgot he’s the richest dino in these parts.”

“Shut. Up,” said the T-Rump.

“No, you shut up!” said the MBS. His tail looped around again. The T-Rump ducked this time but forgot the MBS was making a second swipe. Whomp! Once more to the back of the head.

“Ow!”

“Internalize, take it like a dino.”

The T-Rump’s lip zipped. He knew his place.

“Something else, MBS,” the Davidpecker continued. “That damn moral fibre. You’ll have to excuse us. We thought it no longer existed around here but evidently the Jeffbezos still has plenty. Who knew?”

“There is NO excuse for this! Give me one reason why I do not go Khashoggi on you this very minute!”

“Uh, because we’re not in the Middle Eastlands … nor one of your Saudisaurae By-The-Seas?”

“Okay, we will forget about the death penalty for now. Where is your legal dino on this matter?”

The Davidpecker nodded to his representative who stepped forward.

“The Elkanabramowitz, your excellency. I want you to know I appeared before the Mediacircustops today.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I told them it was a simple Pecker negotiation.”

The MBS eyed him warily.

“Do you know what we do with pecker jokers in the Middle Eastlands?”

The Davidpecker slapped himself in the head, not going unnoticed by MBS.

“You should hit yourself. Harder.”

“No. I just remembered. I had immunity! I was in the clear. Now my sleazy footprints in the sand business is going to go belly-up.”

“Not just yet,” said the MBS. “Not until the authorities go through all your dino catch-and-kill stories.”

“It’s not like that here.”

“That’s the problem. Not enough killing.”

“Your excellency,” begged the Davidpecker. “Let us get back on groveling terms.” He quickly dropped to his knees, nodding to the T-Rump, who joined him on the ground.

“Yes, let’s grovel.”

The Davidpecker looked up at the MBS.

Perhaps I can do another flashy 97 footprints in the sand for you? ”

“No, I cannot be associated with you right now. You have a big mouth and you, Elkanabramowitz, are from the Rudygiuliani mold. Ahem, not a good look.”

The Crown Dino rose to leave.

“T-Rump, when the Davidpecker was granted immunity, he went from being your close friend to a sworn enemy. But you both had the Jeffbezos as an enemy. We now see however, your enemy’s enemy can never be your friend. Still, though you are but a tiny tyrant, a con among cons, keep your Sanctionsaurus away from me and one day, maybe soon, you will feel the press of sweet flesh in a high-five with the Putinodon and me.”

“Yes!” the T-Rump hissed into the dirt.

The Mattwhitaker looked up, surprised at the sight of his mock hearing dino coach, the Rudygiuliani.

“I thought the Jaysekulow was going to prep me.”

“Change of plans. Since the only hope we have of winning this thing is in the court of public opinion, we need to break out our best P.R. weapons. And since the Huckabeecyclops and the Kellyanneconvixway don’t want to be within dripping distance of you, that leaves me.”

He laughed giddily.

“I – I don’t know what to say” said the awed Mattwhitaker, his sweat glands already in fine, free-flowing form.

“That’s not what I wanted to hear. But don’t worry, relax that tail. We’ll be here all night if we have to.”

The Rudygiuliani would be grilling the Mattwhitaker on potential questions the Jerrynadler and his Donkeykongrus tail-waggers might ask the following day of the acting attorney general dino regarding conversations he had with the Oval Dwelling about the Muellersavus investigation.

The Rudygiuliani wrung his hands like he was clutching a small gila monster by the neck.

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning. So you sit down in the Oval Dwelling, the T-Rump has absolutely no idea what you’re going to say and you tell him …”

“I’m glad to be there because I want to protect him from the Muellersavus.”

“No!”

“I tell him about all the bad things the Muellersavus can do to him and then how I plan to save him.”

“No!”

“I don’t understand. The T-Rump fired the Sessionsoppossum because he recused himself so I’m not doing that. … I know. Remember when the Brettkavanaugh asked the same question back of the Amyklovachar, if she ever blacked out? I’ll do that. Did you blackout?”

“No, Good god, no.”

“But it worked for him. He’s a supreme court dino now.”

The Jaysekulow poked his head in.

“How’s it going?”

“Dead in the water. He’ll never be ready.”

“But he has to be. The Jerrynadler has a Subpoenasaurus ready to drag him into the hearing.

The Rudygiuliani snapped.

“A Subpoenasaurus! But we haven’t even declined yet! They’re just turning this into a public spectacle!”

“I really don’t mind the face time,” said the Mattwhitaker. “That’s how I got here. I think.”

“Quiet,” said the Jaysekelow. “Can’t you see real minds at work? The Jerrynadler said that sending a Subpoenasaurus for you was necessary because you failed to tell the committee whether we would invoke privilege with respect to the questions they intend to ask about your conversations with the T-Rump about the Muellersavus probe and your decision not to recuse himself from the matter.”

The Mattwhitaker marveled at how a legal dino could speak that long without stumbling.

“Invoking privilege, huh?” said the Rudygiuliani. He turned to the Mattwhitaker. “You feel privileged, kid?”

“In Iowa?”

Rudy brightened.

“Wait a minute, that’s it! We can’t put him out there so, maybe he won’t testify if they’re going to release the Subpoenasaurus on us.”

“Hey!” said the Mattwhitaker. “I spent all this time preparing for nothing?”

“Okay,” said the Rudygiuliani, “so you now know what a Subpoenasaurus is. Whoopee.”

The Jaysekulow shook his head.

“You’ve got to be kidding, Rudy. We cannot do this. If he’s not going to recuse himself, he has to appear. Every dino will know he’s hiding something as soon as he dodges the first question. If he fights the Subpoenasaurus, he’ll be torn to shreds. Face it, the Subpoenasaurus isn’t even necessary if he simply answers the questions.”

“Jay, Jay, Jay. This has always been about delay, delay, delay. We just have to drag this out for another week. Then the Williambarr is confirmed and we can dirt this dino down the Dust Belt.”

“I heard that!”

“Good,” the two legal dinos said together, turning slowly to eyeball him. The acting A.G. grew nervous.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s all part of the master plan,” said the Jaysekulow.

“Ahem, the new master plan,” corrected the Rudygiuliani. “We want you as nervous, as anxious as possible when you speak. We figure with your copious sweat glands in overdrive, no one will remember a word!”