Tag: Political Satire

“Next!”

“You mean, family first,” the Kushneratops said haughtily to the Marinegunkelly as he and the Tyvankanatrix filed past the chief of staff.

The Marinegunkelly grimaced and turned to the remaining reptiles lined up outside the Oval Dwelling, all waiting patiently for an audience with the Tyrumposaurus.

It was an exceptionally long line today. The dinos crowded into the waiting cave, seeking refuge from the ominous looking clouds. It may yet be Bath Day.

The Marinegunkelly frowned as he gazed at the sour pusses and saliva-dripping mugs before him. Morale was at an all-time low in the Best Wing of the dank, damp Oval Dwelling.

Inside, the T-Rump looked up from his feast of Cheezebuggabuggas at the Kushneratops.

“You’re supposed to be in the Middle Eastlands.”

“I can’t go.”

“Whaddaya mean you can’t go? There’s business to be mixed with, uh …”

“Politics,” finished the Kushneratops. “But old fossil fart there,” he nodded toward the Marinegunkelly, “took away my top secret clearance.”

“Whine, whine, whine. What did I say about rules?”

“They’re for losers. Go ahead and break every one of them.”

“Exactly. Now get over there and keep things on the Q-T.”

“Which reminds me,” his son-in-law said, adopting once more his pouty, put-upon look. “The Muellersavus knows about the half-billion moolah-moolah leaf loan I received after the Oval Dwelling meetings.”

“So?”

“So, the, um … optics?”

“Optics? I only see moolah-moolah. Do you only see moolah-moolah?”

“Of course, dad.”

“And stop saying that. I don’t even let the T-Rump Jr. call me that.”

The Kushneratops stepped back, coughed into his hand awkwardly and gave ground to the T-Vanka.

“Daddy, I was s-o-o-o-o embarrassed. The Mediacircustops cornered me in Seoulkorea. I was there to have a good time. And it didn’t happen, daddy. It’s not fair. They asked me about all those lady dinos who say you sexually assaulted them. E-e-e-e-e-e-e-w! I don’t like being asked about your sexual assaults, daddy. I don’t care if the Mediacircustops said I signed up for this. Stop it, daddy. Do something.”

“Wait, that’s my line, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

His daughter and son-in-law said their good-byes.

“Next!”

The Cybercommander stepped smartly before the Commander in Chief.

“T-Rump.”

“Oh, it’s you again. The answer is still no. You’re supposed to be my intelligence and you don’t even listen. Hmph. Some intelligence.”

“They’ll do it again, T-Rump.”

He was referring of course to the Putinodon and the Russodinos meddling in the battle royale when the T-Rump came to power.

The T-Rump wrinkled his mug in exasperation.

“He said he didn’t. If I ask him again, he may get upset. I sure would. Look,” the T-Rump said, pointing to his noggin, “I’m making a mental note. Satisfied?”

The Cybercommander shook his head in frustration and left.

“Next!”

The Sessionsopussum furtively snuck into the Oval Dwelling. He stepped up to the T-Rump, took a deep breath and puffed out his scrawny chest.

“Excuse me, T-Rump, but I am the Attorney General of the Milkanhoney Preservation and it’s not becoming of you to call me disgraceful.”

The T-Rump waggled a claw at him.

“You. I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to get me to fire you because you think you’re the only one that can save me from myself.”

The Sessionsopussum blinked his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Not gonna work, my beleaguered A.G. There’s no saving me.”

“I guess not,” the Sessionsopussum replied. A couple of giggles escaped as he made his way out.

“Next!”

The Bencarson stepped before the T-Rump. The former walnut cracker chuckled apologetically. He’d been called before the T-Rump to explain the 31,000 moolah-moolah leaf extravagance in redecorating his work den.

“Heh-heh … It seems my wife and I spent more moolah-moolah than necessary. I brought it all back. Heh-heh. Most of it actually.”

“Most?”

“Yes, my, uh … wife … heh-heh … she discovered these things she calls shoes?”

“Shoes?! What the hell are shoes?”

“That’s what I said, heh-heh. Well, almost like that. We were dining on a juicy Guccileatherback the other day and she was backing away and she got her foot caught in some of the skin. She saw her foot and said she, uh … liked the look. Heh-heh. Her words, not mine. So, heh-heh, she kept two thousand moolah-moolah for more Guccileatherback shoes. While they’re in season, she says.” He shrugged. “I ask you, what are you going to do?”

“You’re going to take them off her feet and bring them to me.”

“Heh-heh.” Awkward. “Heh-heh.” More awkwardness as the Bencarson envisioned his enraged wife clawing at him. “Heh-heh. Okay, you’re the boss.”

“Next!”

The Ennarraykillinkidz plodded determinedly straight for the T-Rump.

“T-Rump, you know we need the Gunsandmoregunz inside every dino home.”

The Gunsandmoregunz was a highly volatile, explosive dino pet that was fun to play with. When left unattended however, they were prone to massacring the young and innocent.

“Are you with us, T-Rump?

“I’m not petrified of you. Scared maybe.”

“You should be. There’s no avoiding this. You need me. No age restrictions, no background checks, and definitely due process. Got that?”

“Anything else?”

“Just make sure there’s a bump in our stocks.”

The T-Rump nodded miserably as the Ennarraykillinkidz took leave.

“Next!”

The sweaty, clam-handed Joshraffel entered.

“Who are you,” the T-Rump asked.

“I’m the Joshraffel. I handle communications for the Kushneratops and the T-Vanka.”

“Is there something wrong? I’ll wrong that skinny Dino’s neck!”

“No, no. I said communications for them, not between them.”

“Oh. I see. And you’re here because …”

“I’m quitting.”

“Your point?”

“I – I was just wondering, could you say something good about me? I’ll take bad too, anything to give me some extra publicity as I try to find another job. You know, some solid street cred.”

“And what do I get in return?”

“Hmm. Well, you could tell the Mediacircustops that my exit — that’s thee Joshraffel — means that 34% of your ‘A’ team has left since you came to power. That’s a record. Triple the Obamarus.”

“Triple, huh? Okay, I like that.”

The Joshraffel left and the Marinegunkelly poked his head in.

“All clear.”

“Where the hell is Hope?”

“I’m sorry, are you being philosophical?”

“No. This is a disaster. Where’s the Hopehicksbagotrix?”

“She quit, T-Rump.”

“No. About the little white lies thing?”

“You called her every name in the book.”

“I was kidding!”

“Evidently she wasn’t.”

The T-Rump looked around in a panic.

“What are we gonna do?”

The Marinegunkelly turned to look outside where large raindrops began falling.

“Take a bath?”

“I’ve got to find her.”

The T-Rump rose from his squat and hurried outside just as the dark skies opened. Typhoon-like sheets of rain washed over the T-Rump’s face as he looked skyward, raising his hands high in the air.

“H-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-p-e! … Hopehicksbagotrix!”

Still, uh … still the rain came down, branding him as a marlin out of water, a prehistoric streetcar with no desire.

The Manaforta stared at the hairy grama and sighed. The small patch of wildgrass was all he had to look at since the Muellersavus had placed the moolah-moolah washing, ex-campaign manager under cave arrest four months earlier. The hairy grama bent over, quivering in the slight breeze. The big, clumsy foot of a dinosaur flattened the wildgrass in one stomp, giving the Manaforta pause. It was the Rickyprisongates.

“Ricky? What are you doing out and about?”

“I flipped on you.”

“I, uh … understand your devotion for me is head over heels but — wait a minute. You … flipped?”

“That’s what the Muellersavus called it.”

“But, how could you?”

“The Muellersavus reminded me — you know I have trouble remembering things, Paulie — because we’ve been making things up for so long. Darned if he doesn’t know we were over in Ukrainia pumping up the Yanukovych for so long. The Muellersavus said if I filled in some of the blanks on this thing called an investigation timeline? … Well, he’d let me see my wife and four little dinos. You want me to see my wife and little ones, Paulie. Don’t you?”

The Manaforta was apoplectic.

“You chose family over moolah-moolah? You really have flipped, Ricky. What kind of lying, fraudster dino are you?”

“The kind that doesn’t get home much? You never met the Rickyprisongatesmissus. She told me I owed her the next 11 years. You should’ve seen the scary look on her mug. But she did say something nice about me. Do you know what she said, Paulie?”

“Spare me.”

The Rickyprisongates took this as his cue.

“She said she was happy I spent some of the moolah-moolah on our dino tots’ education tuition, so they could be smarter than me. Speaking of smart, the Muellersavus showed me some new math.”

“Oh?”

“He had 38 charges against me yesterday. Today I only have two. That’s a lot less. Can we celebrate?”

“Celebrate?! You’re throwing me under the Priebusunderbus!”

“Don’t be mad. The Muellersavus said I just needed to talk about you. Don’t you want me talking about you, Paulie?”

“No!”

“Oh.” The Rickyprisongates paused to consider why his long-time mentor was visibly upset.

“Maybe I should go back and tell him …”

“No!”

“The Muellersavus, he said this is all a game. He said I flip and then you flip. I like games, Paulie.”

The Rickyprisongates stared with wondering eyes at the simmering Manaforta. Several seconds passed. Finally the Manaforta snapped.

“Why are you looking at me like that?!”

“Aren’t you gonna flip, Paulie? It’s your turn.”

“It is not!”

“Well, whose turn is it then? The Muellersavus said all roads lead to us. I like being popular. Don’t you, Paulie?”

More hot steam from flaring nostrils.

“I want you to think very carefully now, Ricky. What exactly did you tell the Muellersavus?”

“Well I told him about your swell pal, the Danarohrabacher … and that legal dino, the Alexvanderzwaan. Didn’t he help us out on the hokey story you wrote up for that Mr. Nice Guy dino, the one that Yanukovych was trying to keep in jail. I told him they paid you four million moolah-moolah for that one.”

“I’m so glad you could help him out.

“I thought you’d be happy.”

“The meeting. Tell me you didn’t tell him about the meeting, Ricky.”

“The meeting? For some reason, I was able to remember that. You should’ve seen his face when I told him how at the end, when you shook all the Russodino hands, you told them you would personally deliver the Crookadillary dirt … I mean, the Sanctionsaurus dirt … to the T-Rump.”

The Manforta clutched his chest and keeled over in a dead faint.

His plodding prodigy hovered over him.

“Paulie?”

The big, dumb dino didn’t realize his mentor had passed out.

“Paulie? Are we big fish or little fish? You know me, I forget. Paulie?”

It was almost noon. The Hopehicksbagotrix paused at the doorway to the Tyrumposaurus nest beside the Oval Dwelling. She knew the T-Rump would be alone. The Tymelania had moved her nest away, again, since more sordid, steamy details of the T-Rump’s romp with a Pornodactyl had surfaced. His dino dalliances had grown to include the Playbunny Karenmcdougal. Same time, same flogging grounds. While the Tybarron was still suckling.

Taking a deep breath, the Hopehicksbagotrix entered and found the T-Rump sitting up in his nest. The gruesome remains of several Cheezbuggabuggas lay strewn about the place. The Hopehicksbagotrix could tell he hadn’t slept well. The T-Rump had spent the past two hours barking out orders to his Trollertweety fleet for a scorched earth policy against the Donkeykongrus. He was now accusing them of killing the hopes of the Dacadreamers when it was he who had initially ambushed the popular migration route.

The T-Rump looked up from his dripping Cheezbuggabugga.

“You’re late. Where’s my morning report?”

“It’s … well, it …”

“C’mon, spit it out.” As he did with a small bone. It landed at her feet. Normally she’d partake but her appetite had disappeared.

“It doesn’t look good, boss.”

The T-Rump stopped chewing. He gave her the look. That look. Her long tongue was in a knot. She and every other dino in the Oval Dwelling were not allowed to say the “R” word, Russo, in his presence. Or the “K” word, Kayjeebeeops. Or the “M-B” words, Moscovian Bluffs. How could they do their job, clearance or no clearance? Who could blame her for seeking solace in the grabby claws of the Lewandowski, the Robporter and any new Tyrumposaurean dino on the block. She pined for the recently departed Reedcordish.

“Calling Hope back from Dino-Boy Dreamland.”

“Yes, yes. I’m sorry, T-Rump. Oh, I’ll just come right out and say it.” She flashed her nervous grin with shiny, sharp incisors she knew he appreciated. “The Muellersavus has busted 13 dinosaurs from the Area That Shall Not Be Named. They all meddled in your battle with the Crookadillary.”

“Only 13, huh?”

“What should we have the Huckabeecyclops tell the Mediacircustops? Or, as usual, do we just let her wing it?”

“There was no mention of collusion?”

She shook her head.

“No mention of me?”

Another shake.

“Well, then. It’s a great day. For me.”

“But the Mediacircustops are already asking what you plan to do … how you plan to retaliate against … them.”

“Retaliate? That would be the last thing I’d do. It would be admitting that the Putinodon and his ‘bad actor’ dinos had something to do with me whipping the Crookadillary.”

The Hopehicksbagotrix frowned.

“Even though it’s been more than a year, sorry to rain on your parade. So we just sit here?”

“It’s what we’ve been doing so far.”

She tilted her head matter-of-factly.

“Um, one other thing. The Rickyprisongates.”

“Have you been smuggling in his care packages? You know, the small salamanders he likes? The extra juicy ones?”

“Yes, of course. It’s not that.” She steeled herself. “The Rickyprisongates is going to throw the Manaforta under the Priebusunderbus.”

Unfortunately she spoke just as the T-Rump swallowed a huge bite of Cheezbuggabugga. The meat stuck in his throat. His mother had always told him to chew 27 times before swallowing. But he was his father’s son. He quickly turned blue and collapsed on his back.

Here we go again, thought the Hopehixbagotrix.

She leaped on top of him, jumping up and down on his stomach, his face, then his tail.

“Breathe, damn you. I need this job!”

Through glassy eyes, the T-Rump gazed up at her. Such rage, such frenzy. She was a great hire. For a brief moment, he forgot he was choking.

The Hopehicksbagotrix’ walnut brain finally kicked in. She turned the T-Rump over on his stomach and threw herself on his back. The half-chewed piece of Cheezbuggabugga flew out. The T-Rump slowly dragged himself to a squatting position.

“I thought I was going to die, but then remembered I’m immortal. … I can’t believe the Rickyprisongates would do this. I mean, the Manaforta is such a nice guy. He doesn’t deserve this.”

“I almost forgot,” she said. “The Muellersavus has nailed the Manaforta with another fraud charge.”

“So?”

“Fraud is okay?” Now she knew why the Huckabeecyclops was in private rocks-to-the-head therapy.

“Hope, look at me. Not like that. Like you believe me. We’re all frauds here. That’s the winning formula. The secret of our success. Why else do you think we have a hundred dinos plodding around without security clearance? But the Manaforta. Now he came highly recommended.”

“And he’s in the most trouble.”

“C’mon. The Langleytips bust into his place at the crack of dawn. He deserves a break. Look what he did in the Ukrainia. He had them idolizing that idiot Yanukovych.”

“Then came the Orange Revolution.”

“Nice of you to remember when I changed my hair colour. You are earning your keep. Smart girl. Just one more thing. These briefing notes you bring me every morning. Way too much info. Briefer. Briefer’s better. How else are we going to cut out the bad news? Just think P.D.”

“Police Department?”

“Ha-ha. Smart and funny. No, honey. Plausible Deniability. Do I really need another disaster?”