Tag: Political Satire

The Tunacasserollus was doing somersaults in the Brettkavanaugh’s stomach. He’d barely picked at the freshly killed carcass sitting before his wife, the Ashleykavanaugh and their two dino daughters, Margaret, 13, and Lizzy, 10.

“What’s wrong, daddy?” asked Margaret.

He gulped, causing him to almost choke on his food. He finally spit out a small bone, the kind dinos have to watch out for when eating out of season Tunacasserollus. His wife took a deep breath. It was a dino-eat-dino world out there and any problem was fair game at the evening meal because a naive dino was another dino’s main course. She eyed their two daughters.

“Girls, you remember the day we went with your father to work and we watched him answer all those boring questions about becoming the next judge on the Supreme Dino Court?”

The two little dinos nodded.

“Well, there are some new questions.” She eyed her husband warily. He wished for another bone in his throat to spit out. Anything for a private pity party.

“What kind of questions?” asked Margaret.

“I’ll let your father answer that.” Her words dripped with gloom and doom. He may be sleeping outside tonight.

“Yes, ahem. It seems there’s this lady dinosaur who says … who says I disrespected …”

“Physically assaulted,” corrected his wife.

“Yes, that’s what she said. Anyway, she says this happened many, many years ago at a party before I was even, uh … judgeworthy.”

“Did you, daddy?” asked Margaret. “Did you assault her?”

“No, of course not. Not then. Not ever.”

“Not last week?” asked Lizzy.

“No, sweetie. Not last week.”

“The lady dino wants us to investigate what happened before we meet with all the other dinos in the Sin Hut to discuss the matter. But unfortunately, there’s really no time to do that.”

“Why not?” asked Margaret. “You told me you’d be on the Supreme Dino Court until you accidentally fall off a cliff.”

“Honestly, Brett. You’re so graphic sometimes.”

He pointed at his daughters.

“When I said until death, they told me to pick a way to die. I was trying to keep it clean.”

“Why the rush, daddy?” Margaret had already decided she was going to be a hard-charging legal dino.

The Brettkavanaugh hated lying to his kids. White lies were so handy.

“Yes, why the rush?” his wife asked.

Scratch the white lies.

“Well, the Grandoldparty dinos only have control of the land for another 40 days and 40 nights and then the Blue Wave will come and drown us all.”

“Brett!”

“Sorry, what I mean, girls, is that daddy may not become a Supreme Dino Court judge — unless we push through with this process. In a quick and timely manner. Because like I’ve always told you …”

“A T-Rump dis-tink-shun,” his daughters said together, “could be our ex-tink-shun.”

Ashley could only smirk. 

“But you’re the Be Best judge in the land,” said Lizzy.

“It’s just best, sweetie, but thank you. Unfortunately this lady dino may have her say and if the other dinos in the Sin Hut Chamber believe her …”

“Why would she lie, daddy?” asked Margaret.

“She can’t even sleep at night,” said her mother.

“Daddy’s giving her nightmares?” said Lizzy.

The two grown-ups looked at each other.

“Uh, no,” said the Brettkavanaugh. “I mean, not on purpose.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Margaret.

“My hands are tied.”

He clasped his hands together on his chest. They felt clammy.

“What about the Markjudge?” his wife asked. “The lady dino says he was there.”

“Sweetheart, you know the only dino that can ask the Langleyops to investigate is the T-Rump.”

He looked at his eldest daughter who sat there chewing her bottom lip.

“What is it, Margaret?”

“Father, you’ve always told us to do what’s right.”

They mulled that over before his wife broke the silence.

“We know how important this is to you, but is becoming a judge more important than justice? Dinos want to know what happened. I want to know what happened.”

Lizzy sat there mulling over the big word. Justice. And mommy wants to know. The youngest dino’s eyes suddenly lit up with worry.

“Daddy, what if that lady dino was mommy? What if it was mommy, daddy?”

The two dinosaur doctors — the Colonoscopist and the Malpracticus — conferred off to the side of the Rockyview Dino Dementia Den. Their patient, the Manaforta, was resting comfortably after having been knocked out with two short, sharp blows to the head.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said the Colonoscopist.

“Yes, he’s been under such extreme pressure lately.”

“All I can say is he better have enough moolah-moolah to pay us.”

“Now, now, Colon, we took the Hippo’s Erratic Oath. No matter how demented a patient is …”

“You’re right. And wow, what a recent history. Was it only four months ago that his ex-son-in-law took a plea deal with the Muellersavus to rat him out?”

The Malpracticus winced. He nodded at the prone Manaforta.

“Ix-nay on the rat-nay.”

“Oh, right. Then he gets nailed on eight charges, the Meullersavus could still go after him on another ten, he owes the government 15 million moolah-moolah, his legal bills are piling up, his best buddy, the Rickyprisongates, turned on him … and the ol’ scale tail is pushing seven decades. It’s no wonder he flipped out.”

“And now he’s going to talk,” said the Malpracticus. “Sing like a canary. I wonder what he’s going to say?”

“He’s going to spill the beans about being thick as thieves — him, the Kushneratops and the T-Rump Jr. with all those Russodino rascals.”

The Manaforta stirred from his sleep.

“Should I bop him again?” asked the Colonoscopist.

“No, the Muellersavus told us to let him speak as long as he’s telling the truth.”

“How will we know?”

“Watch his lips. These pathological liars all smile when they lie.”

But never a smile crossed the Manaforta’s face. Only outright terror. His wide eyes begged for mercy.

“You’ve gotta help me, doc!”

“There, there,” said the Malpracticus. “You need to settle down. You’re putting on a new skin. It’ll be hard at first, painful as it is to realize the words coming from your mouth are actually the truth.”

“New skin? That’s great. You’re going to hide me and my family in the dino protection program, right?”

The two doctors shared a laugh.

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

“We’re dinosaurs,” said the Colonoscopist. “We can mess you up for a week but it will heal eventually.”

The Manaforta looked to the Malpracticus for a second opinion.

“I’m afraid my colleague is right. It hurts like hell. Besides, how can you possibly hide when you’re screaming in agony?”

“But – but the Russodinos are going to poison me, I know it.”

“Look, don’t believe everything you hear about the dirty end of the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir. The water is not poisonous. It’s fine. Our kids swim there. A little dino pee never hurt anyone.”

The Manaforta made a face. He was a long way from home and his pet Ostrichpython. He got down on his knees, head in his hands.

“What am I going to do? I’m ruined. I can’t live … in just one cave.”

The doctors nodded understandably. The Colonoscopist gave the Manaforta a comforting pat.

“There, there. Look at the bright side. You’ve been in close contact with the T-Rump and you’re still alive.”

“The T – T – T – Rump,” stuttered the Manaforta. “Once upon a time he called me brave, didn’t he?”

“Oh, but that was before you flipped out. We’re going to have to knock you out again soon. His biting insults will cut you to the very bone, they will.”

There was a commotion outside.

“I never touched that dino! Not then. Never!”

Two broad-shouldered dino interns dragged in a blustering, red-faced dino. It was the Brettkavanaugh.

The Malpracticus nodded to the beefier of the two interns, who promptly whalloped the Brettkavanaugh over the noggin with his tail. His walnut light effectively dimmed, the Brettkavanaugh slumped to the ground.

“Wow,” marveled the Manaforta. “This place is filling up fast.”

“Oh, sure,” said the Colonoscopist. “The Wild West Wing now has the Scottpruitt, the Chriscollins, the Duncanhunter, the Papadopoulos, the Flynnhasbeen, the Michaelcohen, the Peckersaurus, the Weisselbergus, the Rickyprisongates …”

“Is that you, Paulie?” came a cry from down a tunnel.”

“Would you mind?” the Malpracticus asked the second intern, who nodded and turned to the tunnel. Another dino to sedate. The intern paused at the entrance.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” He turned to the Manaforta. “You have a visitor.”

“My wife?”

“No, the Olegderipaska.”

The Marinegunkelly stood guard at the doorway of the Oval Dwelling. Inside, a veteran Mediacircustops interviewed the Trumpasaurus Jr.

“I know you are but what am I?” snorted the T-Rump Jr., hands on hips, at the Mediacircustops.

“Excuse me? I was just asking a question.”

“That’s disgusting. I think I may vomit. I’m not worried about anything because I didn’t do anything. Besides, the dino courts are just going to make something up. Like they always do. On everything. Because they can’t stand they’re not Tyrumposaurae. There. I said it. Run with that. Before you go though, does my tail look orange to you? You know, like my father’s?”

The Marinegunkelly cleared his throat. The warning sign that dear old dad was coming through. The T-Rump entered the Oval Dwelling with the Bobwoodward in tow.

“Hey! Get off my damn tanning rock! How many times –”

The T-Rump whipped a stone at his son, clipping him in the noggin.

“Ow!”

The T-Rump Jr. hopped off the rock and out of the way of his approaching father. The Mediacircustops did his best to blend into the background, licking his chops at the potential scoop of his life. The T-Rump tapped two hollowed out divots at the end of the tanning rock.

“I had my lackies do these. For my bone spurs of course. Excruciating pain. Terrible, terrible injuries. Five times. I know, incredible coincidence. It’s a miracle I can even stand.” He motioned to a spot a few feet away. “Have a squat, Bob.”

The Bobwoodward squatted, noting the 63 fresh tail lashings on the Whaling-Away Wall.

“I wanted to be in your fresh footprints in the sand, Bob. Fear equals pure power. That’s me, alright.”

“I’m afraid you’re too late. The footprints have been out for two days now.”

“Yes, well, once upon a time you were a fair dino. Not any more. Those footprints are all lies. Disgraceful, bald-faced lies. Every last one of them.”

“They’re all on deep background, T-Rump.”

“I don’t care where you put them, I’ll never read them.”

“I’m sorry, exactly why am I here?”

“I want you to put out new footprints in the sand. About me. One that gets the story straight. Or something close to it.”

The Bobwoodward studied the T-Rump. Perhaps there were more footprints in the sand.

“O-k-a-a-a-y. Where would you like to begin?”

“This Hurricane Florence that’s competing with me for the news cycle. We’ll call it the Greatest Natural Disaster in 50 million years and that I saved 5,000 dinosaurs all by myself.”

“But it hasn’t even happened yet.”

“Look, Pullitzerpantz, when I say it’s over, it’s over. And while you’re handing out the many accolades to me, don’t forget to correct the death toll in Puerto Rikkiricardo. It’s 8. Or 16. Not 3000. That’s the Donkeykongrus talking. They’ve been adding in the old dinos keeling over, the dinos choking on Gingerbeefy bones, the blind dinos walking off cliffs, dinos caught cheating on their wives … there’s a lot of that. I should know.”

“Okay, T-Rump. While we’re discussing the aftermath in Puerto Rikkiricardo, you mentioned the Sanjuanmayorsaur.”

“What about her?”

“You said she was totally incompetent?”

“Why are you looking at me like that? That’s not deflection. That’s not me.”

“And she responded by saying you’re delusional, paranoid and unhinged.”

“Now that’s deflection. Am I the only dino that sees this? So that’s why I’ve got you here, Bob. I want you to think up some big, nasty words I can call her. And any dino who has the nerve to question my authority. You’ve done footprints in the sand for eight other dino leaders. Not that I’ve looked at any of them. Welcome aboard, Bobby. You’ll get paid when you get paid.”

“I’m sorry, T-Rump, I’m not an insult dino. You’ll have to get the Rickwilson.”

“Damn that dino! Everything I touch does NOT die. Why, I was holding hands with the Tymelania just two months ago. And we were intimate, uh … what dinosaur period is it?”

“T-Rump, why are you so concerned about last year’s hurricane when we have Florence flying in our face?”

“Because this is about me. And if you say that …”

“I know. You’ll deny it and call me a lying Scuzbucket dino. Tell me, are you going for 5000 lies during your stay in the Oval Dwelling?”

“With a vengeance. More than the previous 44 dino leaders combined. This hurricane will be my legacy. Fear, panic and a fresh geographical landscape. The Sweet Carolinas were becoming too … sweet. And don’t forget, if any dino dies, they brought it upon themselves. I was ready. They weren’t. We’ve all got short arms. Paddle faster, I say. There’s high ground here somewhere. Find it. I have no time for the little dino. It’s survival of the fittest.”

The Mediacircustops stealthily snuck out of the Oval Dwelling with his juiciest of scoops. It would be replaced tomorrow by the T-Rump’s next latest, greatest gaff.

The Marinegunkelly could only shake his head and mutter.

“We’re in Crazytown.”

Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of the Tyrumposaurus? The Shadow Government knows!

It was true. The very day after a sampling of the Bobwoodward’s footprints in the sand told of the T-Rump being a menace to the very Milkanhoney Preservation he’d vowed to protect, more footprints in the sand had been found. They were from an anonymous senior T-Rump official tail-wagger, confirming the existence of a group of adult dinosaurs in the Oval Dwelling protecting the T-Rump from making dinos extinct.

The land was aflame with gossip, rumors and innuendo as dinosaurs everywhere thumped their chests, stubbed their toes and jumped all over each other, claiming they knew who the mysterious senior T-Rump official was.

There was no jumping or stubbed toes in the Oval Dwelling however. No, the only chest thumping was being done by the Chest Thumper himself, the T-Rump. The fact that his favorite Mediacircustops whipping dinos — the Nooyorktimesaurae — were the only dinos who knew who the source was drove the T-Rump around the bend. To the extent that he’d lined up a dozen of his senior dinos to sniff out the mole from his most trusted enablers.

He stepped in front of the Mikepompeo, the former Langleyops dino, who flashed his goofy grin. The T-Rump shook it off.

“I know I’ve sent you on some wild goose chases to see the Kimjongadon and I’m sure you’ve still got some Langleyops pals poking around …”

“But …”

“But what?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking ahead for you.”

“Aha! Found him already. So you’re the dino who thinks they’re in control.”

The T-Rump looked to the Marinegunkelly for support. The Chief of Staff shook him off, burying his head in his hands.

The T-Rump moved on to Sessionsopossum with a welcoming leer.

“We meet again. I have to ask, because you’ve been such a pain in the neck. Was it you?”

“Who me? Heck, no. If I might add, you’re forgettin’ about the separation of powers again, T-Rump. You can go ask Rod if ya want.”

The Rodrosenstein was the second highest legal dino in the land.

“I’m not going to! It’s too far to walk. I want you to launch an investigation.”

“What’s the charge?”

“I don’t know. Make something up. Surprise me.”

“But there’s the law, remember? I know you don’t believe me. You sure you don’t want to talk to Rod?”

“I don’t want Rod!”

The T-Rump shook his head and moved down the line. The Dancoats was up next. Another Langleyops.

“Look,” said the T-Rump, “I only threatened to take away your security clearance because you cracked wise about my Smelstinki meeting with the Putinodon. By the way, did you, um … find anything out about it?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then.”

The T-Rump turned away.

“Aren’t you going to,” the Dancoats began.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Smelstinki still, uh … smells stinky.”

The T-Rump smirked. I’m surrounded by idiots. He moved on to the Kellyanneconvixway.

“KellyAnne, you didn’t … by accident …”

“Oh, no. Nobody said alternative facts, did they? That’s my line. And I think that if anybody is going to rain on our parade with this shocking, disgusting information, well … maybe it might be my husband?”

“But he’s not a senior official.”

“Oh. Silly me.”

Next up was the scowling Jamesmattis.

“On the defense already, James?”

“I am the defense.”

“Uh, yes. Yes you are.” The T-Rump crumbled in the presence of true warriors. He sidestepped over to the Billshineola.

“Tell me it wasn’t you, Bill. If it was, so help me, I’ll feed your hairy chin to the Seanhannity.”

“No, never. I swear on my mother’s dug-up grave.”

“Bill, as my new communications guy, you’ve really garbled the push back message on this. Where’s the shine you promised? I can always get another dino from the Foxsquawkbox den, you know.”

“Please, T-Rump. I’ll try to be more like the Hopehicksbagotrix. I mean, except for the Coreylewandowski and Robporter.”

But the T-Rump had moved on to the Betsydevos.

“Well, I know it wasn’t you, Betsy.”

“Oh, T-Rump, thank you for placing your trust and faith in me.”

“What faith? You can’t even read!”

“But … wasn’t that the base line?”

The T-Rump remembered all the moolah-moolah her family had brought to line his nest and moved on. The Stephenmillerus was next in line. His sour puss was in full pout mode.

“Oh, Stephen, stop it. I know it wasn’t you. It’s not about what I could do to you but what you could do with that whacked-out walnut between your ears.”

“Thank you, T-Rump, esteemed leader of dinosaur kingdoms yet to be discovered.”

The NikkiHaley greeted the T-Rump with a thousand-yard stare. The T-Rump sighed.

“You’re not going to put me to sleep again with one of your speeches are you?”

“I’ll keep it short. I don’t like bullies.”

“And I don’t like confrontation, so there.”

He shifted sideways, landing before the Huckabeecyclops.

“Huckabee, sorry, but I have to ask.”

“If I’m the anonymous source?”

“No, if you really believe all the lies I tell you.”

“If you want me to, T-Rump. Am I not convincing enough? I’ll sneer more, I will. I can grunt too.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Next to last was the Marinegunkelly.

“Well,” said the T-Rump. “I know it can’t be you.”

“Uh, why not, T-Rump?”

“Because you’re the one who points me in the right direction when I need to pee.”

The T-Rump turned to the last dino in the line-up. The Mincepencenow.

“You want my job, don’t you, Mikey?”

“That’s not my decision to make.”

“Oh? Who’s decision is it?”

“Do you believe in the Dino God of Divine Upheaval?”

“What did I say about big words.”

“That’s all I’m going to say.”

“Great. That means more of me.” The T-Rump took in the dozen dinos before him. “As you can see, I’ve only eliminated a few of you. What that means is the rest of you are lying!”

He lashed his tail against the wall.

“I can lie four, five, SIX thousand times but you bozos are not allowed to lie once. That is not the environment I’ve created here. Is that clear?

Nods all around.

“Good. Alright then. Huckabee, get out there and tell them it’s business as usual.”

“And the substance of the footprints? The chaos?”

“Hah! Chaos is great. Remember, a friend in need is our frenemy.”

The Dowderpuff and the Jaysekulow looked at each other from behind the rock outcropping and smiled. It was their third show in three nights. Deep inside the Rustic Belt, last night in Chintzynatti, tonight in Cleavageland. They were hot. The dino faithful were eating them up. The Re-Enactment Road Show had come together following the bombshell that the two legal dinos had re-enacted their mock Muellersavus interview with the Tyrumposaurus in front of the Muellersavus himself. The Dowderpuff played the T-Rump and the Jaysekulow, the Muellersavus.

The crowd buzzed with anticipation. The two starring dinos stepped out from behind the rocks into the clearing. The audience stopped gnashing their teeth, the gratuitous slobbering slowed to a healthy dribble and the show began …

“T-Rump,” the Jaysekulow said stoically, “do you understand why you’re here?”

“Yeah, you’re just trying to make me look bad.”

“On the contrary, I’m giving you an opportunity to clear yourself.”

“I can clear myself. By myself. I have pardon power, remember?”

Giggles and a snort from the audience. The Jaysekulow glared at the disrupter. This was serious business.

“Now then, on the issue of obstruction …”

“I know, I know. Like when a Gingerbeefy bone gets stuck in my throat.”

“Uh, no. I must warn you, obstruction is when a dino, specifically yourself, interferes with an investigation.

“What investigation?”

“Wait for the question, please. Now then, did you tell the Comeyonus to go easy on the Flynnhasbeen and if so, why?”

“Of course I told him to go easy. I had him over for dinner. I believe, yes, he asked to come. So then I asked him three times who his favourite dino was and not once did he say me. It was a fresh kill of Primoribless, all-meat, no-bone. How dare he! I was the host with the most. Where’s the respect? The loyalty? That’s almost treasonous. So, Bob, can I call you Bob? You’ll go easy on me, won’t you?

“T-Rump, would you care to repeat what you said to the Lesterholt?”

“Aha! I know what this is. It’s a perfect trap.”

“You mean perjury trap.”

The Dowderpuff smirked at the Jaysekulow.

“You can’t trap me.”

“Ahem. What did you say to the Lesterholt?”

“I said, you know, this Russia thing with the T-Rump and the Russodinos is a made up story.”

“Impressive. You just repeated verbatim what you told the Lesterholt.”

“I did, didn’t I? I told you I wasn’t going to get caught in … that thing.”

“Perjury trap.”

“Whatever.”

“T-Rump, you’re in a high pressure position. There’s plenty of stress. It’s understandable you may get testy at times. My next question deals with intent.  Why did you call the Sessionsopossum a Mentalretardus and a Dumsouthernaurus?”

“Because he’s scared stiff and missing in action! … But, while I’m here, did you want to hear my Dumsouthernaurus impression? “Ah say, mah tax bill, mah moolah-moolah. y’all hand it oh-vuh, ya hee-ah?”

“Moving right along to the collusion issue. I will limit it to just one question. Did you or any dino in your campaign deal with any Russodinos?”

“Bob, please. They’re not just any Russodinos. These are my friends. Every one of them. Like family. They’d be hurt if they heard you downplaying their importance. That’s all I’m going to say. Next question.”

“Did you wash any Russodino moolah-moolah on any banks?”

“Me? Of course not. I have other dinos for that. The best. You should see them wash that moolah-moolah on the banks. They know me at the Cyprus Bypass, great bank for washing moolah-moolah.”

“Finally, T-Rump, on the subject of your campaign giving moolah-moolah to the Pornodactyl and Playmatapus–”

“Woah, stop right there. That was my moolah-moolah. Not some campaign dino. That was me with them. Both of them. There were more but you’ll just have to keep looking. I’m sure you’ll find it was all me. I can’t have someone else taking credit for all that free publicity, right?”

“I, uh … suppose not.”

“As for my intent …”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Hey, Bobby. Quiet. I don’t need to get permission from you to toot my own horn. Pornodactyl and Playmatapus. There. Tooted.”

“T-Rump, what can I say but thank you. That will be all. You can go now. I’m nearing completion of my footprints in the sand report.”

“You do that. I’ll need that report pronto so we can put this all behind us. Great meeting. I know I don’t have to ask you three times about saying good things about me, right?”

The Tyrumposaurus tossed and turned in his sleep. He slept less and less these days. His latest nightmare featured the dino multitudes lining the Pennsylvanian Pathway for a parade honoring the Bruceohr and the Christophersteele. It was a parade made possible after the Olegderipaska made an impassioned plea before the Dino Court, saying, “Okay, okay. You got me. The Putinodon colluded with the T-Rump, who would be living in a subsidized rocky grotto if not for the Russodinos. I’d also like to mention that the Mediacircustops have portrayed me as a bit of a grump. But I’ve found the Jesusaurus, and the ten million moolah-moolah that the Manaforta owes me? — I’m just going to let it go. But not the T-Rump. Oh, no. Because he needs. To. Go. Down.”

The T-Rump woke abruptly in a cold, slimy sweat. Subsidized rocky grotto? He shivered.

“Rudy, are you there?”

There came a stirring from the foot of the T-Rump’s moolah-moolah nest.

“Right here, boss.”

For the past two months, the Rudygiuliani had taken up sleeping nearby, within tail-patting distance of the neurotic leader.

“It’s that damn Bruceohr again!”

“With the Christophersteele, the parade and Olegderipaska?”

“Yes, that one. We must have moolah-moolah hidden somewhere the Muellersavus doesn’t know about that we can pay off the Olegderipaska to make this nightmare go away.”

“Well, it’s like this, T-Rump. I’m afraid your lack of empathy is no match for the great fears released inside your cold, timid soul. There are dozens of other nightmares just waiting to take its place.”

This only made the T-Rump’s tail thump more anxiously against the floor. The Rudygiuliani reached out, stroking it softly, trying to smooth his client’s rumpled nerves.

“I’m not feeling it, Rudy.”

“Relax, just think of your latest claw-back from the dino workers across the land. More moolah-moolah to line your nest with. Or your latest blast against the Sessionsopossum. Didn’t it feel good burying that little weasel with your beautiful barrage of insults?”

“Well, now that you mention it. But how do we stay out ahead of this? Of everything? There’s so much fake news we have to beat back. You’d think I did nothing but lie, cheat and steal every waking minute.”

“That’s why I’m here,” said the Rudygiuliani. “I must admit, I do some of my best dreaming, uh … thinking while I’m at the foot of your, um … feet.”

“They’re great feet, aren’t they?”

“Bone spurs and all. But hear me out. We got good run out of the Kellyanneconvixway’s ‘alernative facts’ and my humdinger, ‘changing recollections.’ But this Muellersavus investigation. It’s coming, soon — like I said ten times — so we really need to get ahead of it.”

“Before we know what’s in it?”

“Exactly. That’s never stopped us before. This rebuttal means everything. We are butting heads with them, boss. Butting. Heads. We need to show them who they’re messing with. That’s why I’m calling it … The Butthead Rebuttal. What do you think?”

“You had me at Butthead, Rudy. Derogatory, short and sweet, but why just us? Face it, our base is nothing but buttheads. They’ll eat this up.”

“Thanks, T-Rump. You’re such a visionary. Now then, the substance. We’ll hit the Russodino collusion and the Flynnhasbeen stuff hard. All those Russodinos at your inauguration? One word. Relatives. And the Flynnhasbeen? Not a relative. Based on that fact alone, we obviously can’t trust him. … Relatives. Not a relative. Four words. That’s half our Butthead Rebuttal, right there.”

“Get back to me by lunch with the rest of it. Great job, Rudy. Great job.”

“Rudy! Get in here!”

The Rudygiuliani scurried into the Oval Dwelling.

“Yes, boss?”

“Squat with me for awhile,” said the Tyrumposaurus. “I need some attention. These memorial tributes to the Johnmccain and the Arethafranklin are cutting into my recognition time from the Mediacircustops. Bigly.”

“Well, they are national heroes …”

“No, I’M the hero. I’m doing a fantastic job. Look at the dino economy. The second quarter results are in. Big dinos like me put over 400 billion — that’s billion with a ‘B’ — moolah-moolah leaves right back into their rainy day compost piles. That’s double the previous quarter. A new record!”

“Uh, T-Rump, that’s not exactly the message we want to be sending to the average dino, who doesn’t have a rainy day compost pile of ten moolah-moolah leaves.”

“Oh, you’re no fun. I was going to ask if you wanted to celebrate with me by jumping into my stinky rich compost pile, but you’ve spoiled the mood.”

“On that note,” said the Rudygiuliani, “unfortunately, I have some bad news and some not so bad news.”

“They, uh … didn’t find all the stuff the Davidpecker was hiding for me, did they?”

“Oh, no. Not yet.”

“Good. It’s all good then. Give me the not-so-bad.”

“Well, T-Rump, it appears that not one, but two legal dinos have left the Muellersavus investigation.”

“I knew it! They’re crooks like that pesky Peterstrzok. Who were they in the bushes with? Were there any lady dinos involved? Were they lovely? How many young dinos did they buy from the Crookadillary?”

“No. Nobody. No. No. And none. They left because evidently there was no more work for them.”

“Aha! That’s great news! It means the fakity-fake-fake news Russodino investigation is over! I’m free!”

“Hold on, T-Rump. A Deeceelobby dino — the Samuelpatten — copped a plea deal. He was pumping up the Russodinos without telling the Langleyops who he really was.”

The T-Rump whipped his tail angrily against the wall.

“Dammit! Why is it every dino has a problem with the Russodinos and the Oval Dwelling? Every single day I have to tell them the Putinodon is really a nice, friendly dino. I mean, look what he’s done for me.”

“Yes, T-Rump. It’s time for your Daily Conspiracy Update?”

“Shoot.”

“The Chopstickchowmein dinos stealing the Crookadillary secrets? On the surface, I thought that one had great conversational merit, but the Langleyops only nibbled on it for an hour before calling it a hoax. … And as much as we try to deny it, every dino in the Milkanhoney Preservation still believes you pushed the Donmcgahn out the door precisely because he spent 30 hours with the Muellersavus. … Finally, we’re getting zero traction with your claim that the Lesterholt interview was fudged. You know, where you said you kicked the Comeyonus out because of the Russodino thing.”

“I know what I said! Damn those Langleyops! Why don’t they just do their job?”

“You’re absolutely right, T-Rump. Just because the Samuelpatten now brings the number of dinos charged to 33.” He yawned for effect. “That’s still only half the dinos charged in the Water-Gate Cesspool. I mean, it still doesn’t involve you. Does it?”

“Of course not! … That’s it. I’ve had it up to here with every Oval Dwelling dino I hand-picked turning against me. Where’s the loyalty? Where is it? This separation of powers thing is a ruse. No more. I’m officially stepping in. Now. You go tell that turncoat Sessionsopossum that — on top of the Crookadillary and Obamarus conspiracies already on his plate — I want him to investigate the Jimmycarter. Tell me there’s no poison in those peanuts! And the Lyndonbeejohnson. You, me, everybody knows they were all sniffing that napalm. Morning, noon and night. And let’s not forget the Jayeffkennedy. I don’t want to see your skeleton face again until you can tell me it was the Donkeycongrus who did it! Got it? Go!”

The Rudygiuliani hustled out of the Oval Dwelling mumbling to himself. Okay, so he’s a little more insane today. Just a little. Like he said, we’re a smooth running machine with changing parts. Smooth running machine. Changing parts.

“Okay, Rudy,” said the Tyrumposaurus. “What have you got for me today? We need something to deflect this disastrous Michaelcohen and Manaforta fake news. And this Dino the Doorman is freaking me out. I can’t keep sending out Trollertweeties with the same message. It’s getting old. It’s tired. Weak. I want results!”

“Have I ever let you down, boss? I’ve got a treat for you. A very special guest today.”

“Oh? A new Playmatapus?”

“No, no, no. No, no, no, no, no.” The Rudygiuliani loved the latest Michaelcohen quote making the rounds. “Trust me, you’re gonna love this dino. He’s nuttier than me.” The Rudygiuliani rose from his squat in the Oval Dwelling and turned to the doorway. “You can come in now.”

A large grizzled reptile with searing eyes and a leering grin slithered into the room. The Rudygiuliani exuberantly slapped tails him.

“T-Rump, I give you the answer to all our problems, the Michaellebron.”

“Please, call me Lionel.”

The three dinos squatted down together. The T-Rump nodded to his guest.

“Welcome Lionel, I’m seeing more of your dinos at my rallies. It must be good, this “Q” thing with the Q-Anonymus dinos. What’s the Q stand for again?”

“Quaint.”

“Excuse me? I don’t do quaint.”

“Oh, Quaint is just a cover. The vast majority of our conspiracy theories involve blaming others for doing nasty, nasty things to young dinos. It’s a branding, you might say …”

“Yes, branding,” nodded the T-Rump. “Branding’s good.”

“A branding that sticks like swamp water to the skin of every Donkeykongrus dino we accuse.”

“Go on.”

“You see, the Q-Anonymus know you’re not, uh … good with facts. And that’s great because fact-based arguments only seem to confirm the opposing idea in our dino noggins. We’re working with walnuts, right? These conspiracy theories are self-sealing. That is, trying to disprove them only helps reinforce them.”

“Fascinating.”

“And most importantly, our raison d’etre, our reason to be, because it’s not evidence that creates these conspiracy theories–”

“No, no, no. No, no, no, no, no,” said the Rudygiuliani. Awkward silence. “Sorry.”

The Q-Anon crackerjack continued.

“These conspiracy theories are successful because there are dinos out there with the desire to believe, to believe that there is a recipe for these events, a grandiose game plan, not pure coincidence or happenstance.”

“Such as,” said the T-Rump, leaning closer.

The Rudygiuliani clapped his hands together like a dino kid sucking sweet marrow from a bone.

“Wow,” said Lionel. “Where to begin. Well, the Sessionsopossum lost the Bamahama Sin Hut seat on purpose to show fraudulent election voting. … Remember the Crookadillary aide, the Huma-abedin? She was actually working for the Muslimbrownbruds, oh yes. … And we all know the Muellersavus investigation is a sham, simply a cover to expose the Obamarus and the Crookadillary as doing bad things …

“With young dinos.”

“You got it. They’ll soon all be nabbed and put in the Solitary Sinkhole.”

“Tell him the funny ones,” the Rudygiuliani said. “These are hilarious.”

“Humor is in the ear of the listener,” Lionel chuckled. “But try not to laugh too hard. We do have the faith of the Q-Anonymus dinos to consider. … So, there’s the one about the Langleyops themselves putting the Kimjongadon in power. … And the Sethrich, who was murdered by the Emmessthirteen dinos on orders from the Wassermanschultz … and you may not know this, but many prominent Donkeykongrus dinos are walking around as we speak with Anklemonitorus’ at their feet because they are secretly under arrest.

“You can’t trust one Donkeykongrus dino, can you,” said the T-Rump. “They’re the worst.”

“We need you to push that message, T-Rump. Remember when you said the calm before the storm? That ‘Storm’ is now your biggest, most important movement. Where we go one, we go all.”

“I’m the one, right?”

“Well, in a manner of speaking.”

“Trust the plan,” said the Rudygiuliani, borrowing another trademark Q response.

“Who’s plan?” asked the T-Rump.

“Why, yours of course,” said Lionel.

“I have a plan?”

“Every time you open you mouth.”

“That easy, huh?”

“Oh, yes. Your T-Rumpspeak is a kind of coded message with the Q-Anon dinos staying up into the wee hours trying to make sense of it.”

“This is good. Real good. Do I send a signal? Can I send one now?”

“Sure.”

“Er, what should I say?”

“Again, anything. Our Q-Anon dinos will work it out.”

“O-o-o-o-o-o-h.” It was the T-Rump’s turn to rub his hands together. “This sounds scary. Diabolical scary.”

Lionel and the Rudygiuliani shared a look as if they’d created a monster. The T-Rump raised a claw.

“Okay. I’ve got it. I’ll tell the world that I – I … hold on, I’m thirsty.”

“You want a Dietcoker?” Lionel asked anxiously.

“That’s it!” The T-Rump held his hands wide. “I. Want. A. Dietcoker.”

And the die was cast. Within hours the Q-Anonymus dinos had their latest, greatest conspiracy. The Trollertweeties were soon in flight, spreading the word about a secret conspiracy stating unequivocally that the Obamarus and the Crookadillary were behind a plot to poison every Grandoldparty dino by dumping tainted Dietcoker into the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir.  Dietcoker which they got from the Putinodon of course.

These were dark days in Dinoville. Somewhere from afar, the Putinodon enjoyed a belly laugh at the new discord heaped upon the Milkanhoney Preservation. But hope stirred yet in the bellies of better dinos, as somewhere from on high, in a better place, the late great maverick, the Johnmccain looked down upon the events unfolding, knowing that in due time the most powerful dino would receive his Tyrumpian cupful of comeuppance. For soon the bells of justice would toll their virtues. In ringing brilliance for all.

“Horrific! It was just horrific what they did to him.”

The Rudygiuliani nodded profusely, eyes bulging, teeth gnashing.

“They had the gall to say they were just doing their job. You’re absolutely right, T-Rump. He never had a chance.”

The two dinos were discussing the plight of the Manaforta following two cataclysmic shockwaves reverberating the Oval Dwelling. The Manaforta had been convicted of eight criminal counts, mere minutes after the Michaelcohen entered a guilty plea on eight counts as well. The Manaforta and the Michaelcohen, two cronies of the T-Rump’s inner circle, now laid claim to a new species designation as the Convicto Felonus.

Further to this low rung on the classification ladder, the Michaelcohen had made a startling new classification of his own, naming the T-Rump as an Unindictus Coconspiratus. Not a good nickname for the leader of the free-running dinosaur world. Hence the meeting, where he and the Rudygiuliani mulled over their options in a mad world gone madder.

“Should we pardon the Manaforta?” asked the T-Rump. “Such a brave dino for keeping his mouth shut in the Solitary Sinkhole. Now that’s loyalty. I think we should pardon him.”

“I’m, uh … not sure about that. The political fall-out would be tremendous. Maybe we should wait. Squat on this one a little longer.”

“Why squat?” asked the T-Rump. “I just told the Foxsquawkbox these moolah-moolah payments came out of my own veggie garden and I made the payment — yours truly — which I only knew about later. There’s no crime there. Every dino does it all the time. Everyone of them. I never bungled in the jungle with either the Stormydaniels or the Karenmcdougal. Of course we can’t get into why I was paying them. The Milkanhoney Preservation doesn’t need to know that. Because what they’re seeing and reading is not what’s happening. I’ve made this extremely clear, Rudy.”

“All good talking points, T-Rump. I’m doing my best with the Truth-isn’t-Truth game plan. Anything to muddy the waters and confuse the hell out of our White Supremasaurus base. But the Manaforta still has another trial in Dino Court coming up.”

“Another trial? What the–? It’s that damn Sessionsopossum!” The T-Rump lashed out with his long tail, carving another groove in the Whaling-Away Wall of the Oval Dwelling. “Whose side does he think he’s on?!  He should’ve taken control of this. He was my very first warrior. I only made him the top legal dino in the land because he was with my war campaign. Where’s his loyalty?”

There was a dino tail waving meekly from the doorway. It was the Huckabeecyclops.

“There you are” said the T-Rump. “Tell me, in the Mediacircustops briefing today, how many times did you say, ‘I’ve already covered this to death, there are no charges and there’s no collusion period.’”

“Eighteen.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“But T-Rump, there were no Mediacircustops there.”

“Don’t worry. That’s because I wasn’t there. Keep trotting out that message though. It’s their loss, not ours.”

“Of course, I just wanted to say that the Sessionsopossum, let me see if I get this right, he said that his legal dinos are not going to be improperly influenced by, um … you, T-Rump.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you tell him … you tell him …”

“Yes?” The Huckabeecyclops stared dumbly ahead, caught yet again in a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside the T-Rump’s cracked walnut.

“What do we tell him?” the T-Rump asked the Rudygiuliani.

“Me? Well, uh … the usual suspects never hurts. Tell him to go after all the Donkeykongrus corruption, the Comeyonus, the Muellersavus conflicts, the Andrewmccabe, the Peterstrzok, the Crookadillary …”

The Huckabeecyclops sighed.

“Again?”

“Yes, again,” roared the T-Rump. “And what did I say about that defeatist attitude? We’re winning dammit!”

He glared at her, getting angrier that she was still rooted to the spot. He seethed at her.

“Why are you not moving?”

“I have more news.”

“What, is my parade back on?” He turned hopefully at the Rudygiuliani, who quickly looked away.

“No,” she said. “It’s the Peckersaurus. He’s been granted immunity.”

The T-Rump clutched his heart, gasping for air.

“That Peckersaurus … he’s going to screw me!”

The Rudygiuliani’s bulging eyes rolled. Twice.

“For once, I – I don’t know what to say. Truth isn’t truth but screwing is screwing.”

“Oh, T-Rump?” asked the Huckabeecyclops.

“What now? Haven’t you caused enough trouble today? … I need some cheering up. Go find the Weisselbergus and find out how much moolah-moolah we transferred this week from the Foundation to my Organization.”

“That’s why I’m here, T-Rump. The Weisselbergus? He was just granted immunity too.”

This time the T-Rump’s hand never made it to his heart. He fainted dead away, face first into a pile of cheezbuggabuggas.