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Discover The T-Rump Dig … (Established Day #163–July 2, 2017) … The longest-running, Trump-as-dinosaur chronicle. 700+ traumatic Trumpassic Period days explained in 200+ entries. Now as a podcast! … This week: Day 858–Sexism with Kellyanne … The Dino Nation learns from the master … and … Day 862–On Golden Pond … Will the Nancypelosi dive into the waters of Impeachment?
The Muellersavus took one last look at Impeachment Pond. It shimmered in the late afternoon sun, begging dinosaurs of any stripe to stop and dip their feet in its cool, cleansing waters. But were they? The ever-present Muellersavus had skirted the pond for too long, studying instead the troubled waters feeding into the pond, tributaries finally settling in a slough of mystery and wonder.
Some dinos called a dip in Impeachment Pond the cure for what ails you. A golden opportunity to put things right. But the Muellersavus knew in his heart it was not his call to make. He could only bring dinos so far. It was not his decision to make them drink. He turned to the other dinos.
“No questions.”
And with a wave of his short arm, he departed toward the sunset.
The Nancypelosi’s gaze followed him.
“Where’s he going?”
“He’s done,” said the Adamschiff. “He said all he had to say.”
“22 months,” said the Jerrynadler. “That’s a lot of footprints in the sand. And dare I say you’re looking at the only dinos who read them.”
The three veteran Donkeykongrus dinos stood on the bank, looking over Impeachment Pond and the 50 dinos having taken the plunge. 50 dinos whose eyes fixated upon the Nancypelosi and her steady, stern gaze. She was hesitant about joining them.
The Coreybooker caught her eye.
“We have a legal and moral obligation to be in here,” he said.
The Buddhajudge held his hands a foot apart.
“You’re this close to Impeachment, Nancy. Into the pond, out of the swamp.”
“I – I want to thank you for not pushing me.”
“C’mon, girl,” the Kamalaharris urged her on. “Just another step. You can do it.”
“I take back what I just said.”
“Just so we’re clear, everyone,” the Elizabethwarren shouted. “I was here first!”
“No you weren’t,” said the Rashidatlaib. “We’ve been in here for two months. Haven’t we, guys?”
She and the Alexandriaocasiocortez, the Ilhanomar, the Ayannapresley, the Filemonvela and the Jaredhuffman all hooted and hollered, waving to the other dinos.
“You all are just gettin’ your feet wet.”
All eyes turned to the Algreen.
“We’ve been treading water for two-and-a-half years. Ain’t that right, guys?”
His hearty group raised their short arms in triumph, punching the air. They included the Stevecohen, the Marciafudge and the Adrianoespaillat.
“Nancy.” It was the Kirstengillibrand. “The Muellersavus led us here. We have the authority to take this leap of faith when he could not. It’s what he wanted. For us.”
“She’s right,” said the Betosaurus. “I’ve been here for ten days. It just looks like I’m sinking.”
Head down, the Nancypelosi paced along the bank.
“I’m still investigating. I want to go where the facts take me.”
“And here you are,” said the Berniesanders. “We are all here thanks to the T-Rump. Let’s talk accountability. Gee, I wonder how we can thank him.”
The pond rippled with it’s occupants’ laughter.
“Heck,” said the Ericswalwell, “while we’re at it, we should, ahem … thank the attorney dino general Williambarr as well.”
The Sethmoulton splashed the water.
“I second that emotion.”
“Nancy.” It was the Veronicaescobar. “I know that if you were in here with the rest of us, you’d see that we cannot tolerate this level of obstruction. Ow! Speak of the devil, I just stubbed my toe on another one.”
“I hear you,” said the Joeneguse. “There’s a pattern of obstruction here.”
“Feels like a stonewall to me,” said the Dianadegette.
“Julian,” Nancy asked the Juliancastro. “Why are you in there?”
“It’s perfectly reasonable.”
“Hmm,” she replied. “I’d still like to speak with the Donmcgahn.”
“That’s why I’m in here!” said the Davidcicilline.
“Me too!” said the Markpocan.
The Johnyarmuth eyed the Nancypelosi with a smirk.
“Face it. Your joining us is going to be inevitable.”
“That logic is pretty overwhelming at this point,” echoed the Jamieraskin.
“It’s a hard fact,” said the Valdemings. “You’ve run out of options.”
The Nancypelosi maintained her stiff upper lip.
“I want to do what’s right. What gets results.”
“Jump in the lake already!” came the voice of some dinosaur far off in the bushes awoken from his nap.
She ignored the intrusion and repeated herself.
“What gets results.”
“You want results?” It was the short, squat, smiling Mikequigley. “When you looked the other way. I jumped in. Hah! Beat ya! Number 51, baby!”
It was too much for the Nancypelosi. Young whipper-snappers, she muttered to herself. New progressive dinos. Well, they’d just have to wait. She was still cold to the idea. She turned on her heels and slowly ambled off after the Muellersavus.
A worried, jittery Jerrynadler and the wistful Adamschiff looked after her.
“Don’t worry, Jerry. She’ll come around.” The Adamschiff cast an eye toward Impeachment Pond. “C’mon, let’s test those waters. Last one in is a T-Rump Dump!”
The Stephenmillerus peered out at the overflowing dino crowd and frowned. He had a bad feeling about this. The Tyrumposaurus had wanted to do yet another vanity roadshow to augment his base with any middle-of-the-rock and left-leaning dinos.
But here at the biggest Feminist Movement in the Milkanhoney Preservation? The air was thick with estrogen. Thanks to two huge female groups, each 5000 strong. There was the cramped, angst-ridden Give Men Pause with Menopause. And of course, in light of recent events, there was Get Crackin’!, a pro-abortion group vowing to drop their eggs at any time during the three-to-six month gestation period.
Now there’s a win-win situation, thought the Stephenmillerus. If illegally migrated Latinonachos did manage to hatch any eggs, we’ll be right there to snatch their dino tots away from them.
The T-Rump sauntered onto the stage. Two dinos clapped, then stopped when they realized this wasn’t the warm-up act. A dino in the front row rose from her squat.
“What are you even doing here?”
“Wow. Tough crowd. I promise you it’ll get better. Greetings, ladies. Don’t worry, I’ll behave. I don’t want you all to get upset like that Megynkelly, bleeding from her eyes, bleeding from wherever.”
Shock and awe from the audience. Boos and angry hisses filled the air.
Behind the T-Rump, off to the side, the Kellyanneconvixway squatted, resolute, almost regal, like a prom queen waiting for some dino to ask her to dance.
“Sexist!” came a loud cry from the crowd, wiping Kellyanne’s smile from her face.
“I can’t believe this!”
She rose from her squat and strode to the T-Rump’s side.
“Listen to yourselves! Just listen. How dare you boo the leader of the Dino Nation. Where were you when the Timkaine interrupted a female debate moderator? That’s right. Interrupted. Now that was sexist.”
The apples and oranges gender-switch threw the women in the audience off-guard. The Kellyanneconvixway took this as instant victory. She motioned for the T-Rump to continue as she returned to her squat.
“Thank you, Kellyanne.” He gave the audience a smug grin. “Now then, where were we? Oh, yes. Whenever it hits, menopause or abortion, you know you love me. All the women love me. Well, maybe not the Rosieodonnell … or the Carlyfiorina. But I mean, c’mon … Look at that face. Would anyone vote for that?”
Fresh, loud boos and yells from the crowd. Jaws snapped. Nostrils flared. Several dinos were foaming at the mouth. Some respectfully headed for the exits before they did something they’d regret. Menopause does affect each dino differently. Kellyanne scampered back beside her boss.
“Hey! Where are you going? Have you no respect? You can’t just leave. That – that … whatever you just heard, that wasn’t sexist. Remember the Maziehirono verbally attacking the Brettkavanaugh–”
Boos drowned her out at the mention of the new conservative Supreme Dino Court judge. It was an ominous warning that female dinos may be forced to hatch any and all of their eggs. The Kellyanneconvixway gave the women her tired, put-upon look guaranteed to draw a response of silent, wide-eyed incredulity.
“Ladies,” she said in her favourite condescending tone. “The Brettkavanaugh did not physically attack the Christineblaseyford. Traumatic experience. Great memory. Wrong face. So, while you’re sitting there, hatching any of your dozen eggs, just remember it was the Maziehirono who was sexist. Maziehirono. Sexist.”
She glared at them for good measure, then gripped the arm of the T-Rump, signalling he was good to go.
“You ladies are sure ramped up tonight. I see that look in your eyes. That heat of the moment anger that says you smell blood. My blood. Say, I could make some moolah-moolah off this. Two moolah-moolah leaves to smell my blood. Reminds me of the last time I saw the Mikabrezinski. She was bleeding badly from a face lift. Craned her neck too high. Very sad.”
The crowd erupted with howls and screams. The ladies were livid. Several rushed the stage but their short legs were unable to scale the rocks to reach the T-Rump. The Kellyanneconvixway was having none of it.
“Oh, come on. You think that’s sexist? What about … That’s right. It’s What About Time. Already. What about the Coreybooker? Don’t look at me like that, 10,000 female dinos. You do remember. All of you. The Coreybooker had the gall, the unmitigated audacity to announce he was running for leader of the Dino Nation when there were already women in the primary field. How about that, ladies? Can you believe it? Can you? Out and out sexism!”
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This week’s double-feature … Day 851–One for the Exodus … Justin-the-Amash breaks ranks with the Grandoldparty dinos! … and … Day 855–The Intervention … Yes, it’s THAT time. Time to step in to try and save the Tyrumposaurus.
“He’s coming!” hissed the Linseygraham. “Quick! Everyone, hide! And wait for my signal.”
A dozen dinos scurried for cover in the Oval Dwelling behind large rocks and piles of discarded Cheezbuggabuggas and soggy Dietcoker leaves.
The Tyrumposaurus sauntered into the cave humming some raunchy Pornodactyl dance number. He stopped in his tracks.
“Linsey? What are you doing here?”
“T-Rump. It’s time.”
“Time for what?”
The Linseygraham gulped. How did you tell the most powerful dinosaur in the world that he needed an intervention? Like two Skunkasaurae making love. Very carefully.
“Uh, time I paid you a visit to point out … not only that you’re very calm and an extremely stable genius … but that what the Donkeykongrus are doing to you … well, they’re just trying to destroy you and your family.”
“They are, aren’t they? Well, me anyway.”
“And I’m concerned about the terrible toll it’s taking on you and the, uh … affect …”
“Nothing affects me.”
“Okay then. The, uh … ominous outgrowth of …”
“Linsey, my bone spurs are just a ruse.”
“But the Nancypelosi isn’t.”
The T-Rump’s double-blink and triple-flinch wasn’t lost on the Linseygraham. He had work to do. Lots of it. There were too many fine careers of good ol’ Grandoldparty dinos riding on this.
“I hate that woman,” growled the T-Rump.
“Send in the clowns,” Linsey remarked. “Foreign clowns.” Foreign was such a tough cue to work in on the fly. “I said foreign.”
The Larrykudlow finally ventured out from behind a rock.
“Larry?” said the T-Rump. “You’ve been here the whole time?”
“Just wrestling with another Tarrifraptor. You’ve given me so many. Yet you remain so very calm because you are the extremely stable genius here, there, everywhere. If I may digress from your loftiness …”
This was going to be a long intervention, thought the Linseygraham. His frantic eyes told the Larrykudlow to move it along.
“Foreign, yes. Your foreign trips, T-Rump.”
“Japa-yama-haha and Europa?”
“You remembered. Nicely done. But I’m sorry, you see, we — that is, Linsey and I — we need you to stay right here in the Milkanhoney Preservation, to tend to the home fires of course.”
“But we don’t make fires.”
“We don’t know how to do a lot of things but we’ll learn. From you, our extremely stable genius.”
“It is to legislate,” came the crisp cry from the Linseygraham.
“Not now,” said the T-Rump. “Can’t you see I’m on executive time?”
The Mercedeschlapp appeared.
“Impeccable timing, Mercedes,” said the T-Rump with a sly smile.
“Oh, T-Rump, it’s so good to see how very calm you are and I’m sure you’re still the extremely stable genius you’ve always been because, well … you of all dinos should know there are dinos on the other side of the path that can indeed legislate and investigate at the very same time. I mean, we can’t stop everything.”
“Oh, yes we can. Do. Nothing.”
“You’re doing my job for me,” said the Linseygraham. No dino appeared. The Linseygraham raised his voice. “What he said.”
Out popped the Huckabeecyclops.
“Oh, T-Rump, you beat-back-the-ladies dino. You’re so calm even when I know you want to reach out and smack me. You’re the extremely stable genius I can’t take my one eye off of. It’s a big, big, bigly eye looking out for you.”
“Huckabee!” snapped the Linseygraham.
The T-Rump nodded to her.
“Huckabee, tell everyone here that the Donkeykongrus cannot walk and chew gum at the same time.”
“Oh, but they can. But that’s not the real reason I’m here.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
She gave him a sorrowful, tug-on-the-heart-strings, pitiful look of despair.
“I lied.”
“So? That’s what I’m paying you for.”
She looked at the Linseygraham and then back to her boss.
“I – I need to make you believe. The Donkeykongrus are not the Do Nothing Party. We are. The Donkeykongrus are getting everything done while we just … squat here.”
A scowl spread across the T-Rump’s lips.
“It’s enough to make you say the ‘I’ word,” said the Linseygraham.
“Aha!” said the T-Rump. This is an intervention, isn’t it?”
“No, this is a campaign rally stop. With only your closest sycophants.”
“Oh. Okay.”
The Kellyanneconvixway appeared.
“Oh, esteemed calm leader of most extreme stable geniusness. That’s my alternative fact of the day. I made it up just for you because you and I both know it drives my husband crazy.”
“How sweet.”
“You want it, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. Who wouldn’t?”
“The ‘I’ word, that is.”
“Intercourse?”
“Impeachment, you dirty old dino. And please tell me you don’t want to be impeached because I want to lead you in your next campaign. Please, please, please.”
“That next campaign could mean war,” said the Linseygraham.
The Mikepompeo and Johnbolton promptly rolled on the ground across the cave in a dino brawl with short arms grappling and tails flapping, churning up clouds of dust.
“Very calm!” the Mikepompeo yelled between blows.
“Extremely stable genius!” hollered the Johnbolton.
Out the doorway the two dinos rolled without another intervening word.
“Ha,” said the Linseygraham, “Look on the bright side. No investigation there.”
The Seanhannity bounced onto the scene.
“T-Rump, ol’ calm buddy, ol’ extremely stable genius pal. Good to see you. Hey, I just wanted to say that, uh … well, you know those investigations into your moolah-moolah at the Mazars and on the banks of the River Deutsche? Well, uh … those investigations, they, um … appear to be moving right along. Boom, tickety boom. Just saying. It’ll get worse, so feel free to call me.”
“But Lordy,” said the Linseygraham, “give us hope.”
“Hope?” said the T-Rump. “Oh, god, let it be the Hopehicksbagotrix.”
Blank stares from the female dinos. But it was another dino who emerged into view.
“Lewandowski?” said the mildly perturbed T-Rump.
“Good to see how calm you’ve remained since birth with your extremely stable genius still as stable as the rock that’s as dumb as the Saveyourenergyrex. I’m here … well, I’m here to let you know that I too was after Hope once, and then the Robporter was and now, well, it’s the Donkeykongrus turn. But it’s not what you think. So, don’t worry. You’ll get over it. … Okay, so I still think of her from time to time. That dazzling smile …”
“Corey!”
The Linseygraham could see it was time to play his trump card on the T-Rump.
“My, my, this has been a torture test, hasn’t it?”
All heads turned a wary eye to the next dino to arrive on the scene.
The Hogangidley.
“You’re calmer than an upside down pig in mud’n manure and you’re so extreme, so stable, so genius that I feel like a dog-eared country bumpkin squattin’ here in front of you. With that in mind, T-Rump, I want you to know that I’ve always been one to take one for the team.”
“Great, Hogan. That’s just great.”
“T-Rump,” interrupted the Linseygraham. “Now, I’ll admit I called in Hogan because you’ve been, uh … just a wee bit, shall we say … stressed … lately? Hogan will help you release that pent up frustration. Won’t you, Hogan?”
“I sure will. Cuz I’m your whippin’ dino, boss.”
“Oh, I would never whip you, Hogan. Not in a million years.”
We’ll see about that, thought the Linseygraham.
“Okay,” said the Hogangidley. “Here goes. You engaged in a cover up, threw a temper tantrum and hoo-boy, I pray for you.”
He then mercifully closed his eyes as the T-Rump’s eyes went bright red and proverbial smoke erupted from his ears. Tail lash after tail lash rained down on the poor, defenseless Hogangidley.
“Ouch! Thank you, thank you … Ow! That’s better … Ouch! Thank you, thank you …”
While the other dinos turned away from the dino debacle, the Linseygraham could only frown. A T-Rump intervention. Worst idea ever. He sighed, wondering to himself. Why won’t some dino — any dino — schedule an intervention for me?
A rogue dinosaur ambush had left several dead and wounded. The Tyrumposaurus hunkered down in the Oval Dwelling with his right-hand dino, the Marinegunkelly, the sometimes loquacious Huckabeecyclops and the Cryingchuck, leader of the Committee on Mass Migration.
“He was a Sleepercellatops from Izbackmigraine,” said the Marinegunkelly.
The T-Rump thrashed his tail.
“It’s a disaster and it’s all your fault, Cryingchuck. You and your ‘diversity dinosaur.’ That was a real Cryingchuck beauty, oh yeah. Death penalty! We need to know who these dinosaurs are!
“Before we kill them?” asked the Huckabeecyclops.
The T-Rump brushed the contradiction aside.
“I want extreme vetting!”
“Petting?” she asked, feeling flushed.
“Good god, woman. Listen! Vetting.”
“I just wanted to make sure I got it right.”
“For every dinosaur,” said the T-Rump. “Chain migration must end now! Some dinosaurs come in, and they bring their whole family with them, who can be truly evil. Not acceptable!”
“Excuse me, T-Rump?”
It was the Cryingchuck.
“Yes, what is it?” Questions during briefing meetings peeved the T-Rump to no end.
“I have a cousin. A second cousin, really. The, uh … Amyschumershow?”
“Yes?”
“She wants to come to the Milkanhoney Preservation. To make it her home.”
“Hmm. Sounds like migration to me. Cousins, huh? Well, that’s nice, I suppose. Where’s she from?”
“Izbackmigraine.”
“What?! Absolutely not. This is craziness!”
“But my ancestors are from there.”
“Consider yourself lucky to have beat the deadline.”
“What deadline?” asked the Huckabeecyclops.
“Whatever travel ban we’re up to. Figure it out.”
“But, T-Rump,” said the Cryingchuck. “She’s the Amyschumershow. She’s funny.”
“I’ll bet she is. A real laughing-stock. Got that, Huckabee?”
“Uh, any more details?”
That set him off. The T-Rump huffed and puffed. Huge snot bubbles blew in and out of his large nostrils.
The Huckabeecyclops grimaced.
“I’m sorry. I said the ‘D’ word, didn’t I?”
“Waste of time,” said the T-Rump. “Now then, this extreme vetting. Being politically correct is fine, but not for this!”
“T-Rump,” said the Cryingchuck. “What about the T-Melania?”
“Don’t start with that anti-bullying thing again.”
“No, no. I’m talking about where she’s from — the other side of Izbackmigraine.” The Cryingchuck swallowed a burp. “Slomovodka.”
The T-Rump growled at him.
“Your point?”
“Well, she migrated here. We all migrated here.”
“Make up your mind. Her or everyone?”
“T-Rump?” said the confused, frightened Huckabeecyclops.
The stark realization hit the T-Rump between the eyes.
“We’re done here.” He rose from his haunches and cleared his throat to bellow. “Extreme vetting! Death penalty! Mitchgetbacktowork!”
“Can I come out now?” It was the Spicerophus. He was hiding in a bush.
“The game’s not over,” said the Tyrumposaurus, languishing nearby over a fresh kill of Caviaraptor.
“But I’ve been in here for weeks!”
“The game’s called hide and seek. I’ll look for you when I’m ready.”
The T-Rump lifted his nose to the air.
“Marinegunkelly.”
The T-Rump’s right-hand dino stepped smartly to the fore.
“I told you I’m not hiding, T-Rump.”
“No, no. I smell a Crookadillary.”
The Marinegunkelly rolled his eyes. The T-Rump clapped him on the back.
“Let’s go.”
The T-Rump and the Marinegunkelly set off across the wide savannah, the marshy wetlands and a vast grassland that had a colony of 11-year-old herbivores mowing their way through it. A winded Marinegunkelly finally stopped.
“T-Rump, it’s been 8 hours. We must’ve gone 100 miles.”
“Hah! I’d go 200 miles to play a joke on the Crookadillary. Quit complaining. And you call yourself a Marinegunkelly?”
They ventured on. An hour later they found the Crookadillary in a clearing beside shrubs. She was munching on a potpourri of herbs and spices, reminiscing of her salad days back in Arkansas Whitewater Development.
The T-Rump snuck up behind her. He tapped her on the right shoulder and ducked to the left. She turned to her right and saw nothing. The T-Rump tapped her on the left shoulder and ducked to the right. She turned to her left and saw nothing.
“T-Rump!”
“It’s not me.”
She spun on her heels and glared at him.
“How far did you travel this time?”
“Just a mile,” he lied. He extended his arm. “Here, pull my claw.”
“No.”
“Aw, c’mon, Crookadillary.”
“No, I am not going to pull your claw!”
The T-Rump turned to the Marinegunkelly.
“Will you pull my claw?”
The Marinegunkelly frowned and turned his back to him.
“T-Rump,” said the Crookadillary. “I just received news from the Kimjongadon.”
“Oh, the Rocketmanosaurus.”
“Thats right, he wanted me to thank you for calling him that.”
“He’s an idiot. I meant it as an insult.”
“Oh, he’s far from an idiot. You made him a big hit with the ladies now.”
“I did?”
The Crookadillary turned to leave.
“You can always thank him yourself. He’s speaking from the Bullee-Tar Pit tonight at sunset. Oh, T-Rump, that’s when the lady dinosaurs are most romantic.”
“I know that!”
The Crookadillary disappeared in the bush, leaving the T-Rump fuming. He got in the Marinegunkelly’s face.
“How could you let her do that to me?”
The Marinegunkelly had no idea what the T-Rump was talking about. He would remain stoic and steadfast even if his tail was on fire. T-Rump could stew in his juices. It was a treat to watch.
The T-Rump roared in anger.
“Nobody speaks from the Bullee-Tar Pit but me.”
He thought about the lady dinosaurs that would also be there. He and the T-Melania had been on the outs lately. She’d taken to wearing dark brunette snakeroot leaves over her eyes when they were out together. She was embarrassed to be seen with him. But he was the T-Rump, the law of the land. He could do what he wanted.
Meanwhile, the Crookadillary beat him and the Marinegunkelly back to the Bullee-Tar Pit where she had a surprise waiting for him.
It was dusk when the T-Rump arrived at the Bullee-Tar Pit. Alone. The Marinegunkelly cramped his style. In the darkness, the T-Rump could barely make out a short, squat figure standing at the edge of the cliff.
“So, we finally meet,” said the T-Rump, stepping toward the figure.
“I am the Rocketman.” Only it was the disguised voice of the Crookadillary. She was hiding on a ledge just below the edge of the cliff.
“You don’t sound too well,” said the T-Rump. “Is that a frog in your throat?”
“No, it’s a toad.”
The T-Rump sized up the silhouette before him in the darkness.
“Y’know, I thought you’d be bigger.”
“I’m grown up. Unlike you.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I don’t see any ladies, Rocketman.”
“They saw you coming.”
“Why, you little … I’ll show you who’s the real Rocketmanosaurus! You give me no choice but to totally destroy you!”
The T-Rump lunged forward with his little arms and grabbed what he thought was the Kimjongadon. Only it was a bunch of flat rocks piled on top of one another, covered in tar.
“What the …?
The T-Rump rolled around, trying to get loose but he couldn’t. He only made matters worse in the oozing, gooey, sticky tar. His face was stuck to a rock and he could smell the stench of the thick, black tar oozing down the top of the rock toward …
“My hair. Not the hair. No! Not the hair! … A-a-a-a-a-a-g-g-g-h-h-h!”
The Crookadillary stole away in the night, laughing her little girly laugh.
Mother Nature was dealing the Trumpassic Period a nuclear blow. The Tyrumposaurus and most of his clan, T-Melania, T-Rump Jr. and T-Vankanatrix were gathered in their off-season den at Mar-a-Guano. The T-Rump turned to his cantankerous right-hand dino, the Marinegunkelly.
“What’s the latest on the funny stuff happening with the clouds?” The T-Rump refused to look up at the skies since the unfortunate solar eclipse incident.
“Well,” said Marinegunkelly, “we were in the direct path of the hurricane.”
“The greatest hurricane,” corrected the T-Rump. “Ever.”
“Excuse me, T-Rump, I said were. The pterodactyl’s are all in a snit, so it appears the storm is now headed toward the Conch Republic.”
The T-Rump started off in that direction.
“Where are you going?” the Marinegunkelly yelled above the storm.
“The Conch Republic.”
“Why on earth? You’ll be killed!”
“I have to be there. That’s where the hurricane is. Who wants to be on the outside looking in?”
“Mother? Aren’t you going to say something?” cried the T-Vankanatrix.
But the T-Melania was busy looking at the scales on her back legs. She arched her heel, admiring her instep.
“Mother!”
The T-Melania turned her dark, foreboding lashes upon the T-Vankanatrix. Mixed dinosaur marriages were such a bore.
“Father’s going to be in the path of the storm. Say something!”
The T-Melania dropped her eyes. The T-Rump and her no longer held hands … or went out for a late night Brachiosaurus snack any more.
“When will you be home?” she asked, hoping he’d be washed away.
“I’ll return when the Trollertweety is tweeting the loudest. Triumphant. Winning.”
“Dad!” shouted the T-Rump Jr., rushing over to him. “What am I going to do without you?”
“You have my name, son. That’s all you’ll need. Don’t wear it out.”
The T-Rump turned to leave once more. He was about to plunge into the howling wind and rain when another dinosaur staggered in. It was the Schillersaurus, an Uberguardian dinosaur from the T-Rump’s days of yore.
“Schillersaurus,” said the T-Rump. “You’re too late. I’ve made up my mind.”
“No, I’ve come to collect for previous work.”
“Oh. Well, help yourself to some Caviaraptor legs.”
The Schillersaurus scurried over to the dinosaur delicacy. The T-Rump stood there, looking back.
“It’s not too late to protect me.”
“I’m good,” said the Schillersaurus, waving him off between nibbles.
The T-Rump set his jaw and traipsed off in the tail-deep flood waters.
In the few hours that followed, his would be a carefree journey, for the hurricane changed its path. It made a catastrophic direct hit upon Mar-a-Guano. The T-Rump arrived home the following day after the flood waters had receded.
“Dad!” screamed the T-Vankanatrix, “You left us for the — the … Conch Republic! How could you? You were drinking from the dirty end of the swamp, weren’t you?”
“I — I …”
“Look at me!” shrieked the normally placid T-Melania. “Just look at my scales! They’re ruined!”
She bounded off, sobbing uncontrollably, to hide behind what was left of a bush. The T-Rump turned to the T-Rump Jr.
“Son?”
“You … weren’t here. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Come here, son.” He put his arm around the T-Rump Jr. “Now, before you run and get Sukelowphus and Futerfasphus, we need to let them know … one … that this was the biggest hurricane and …”
“You were here, dad.”
“That’s my boy.”
“I can’t do it. I won’t do it!”
The Tyrumposaurus Junior lashed out his tail, striking the wall of the oval dwelling, narrowly missing the T-Rump, the Sukelowphus and the smaller Futerfasphus. The latter two dinosaurs were always close at hand, Sub Family to the Pantsonfire Solisitaur.
“Now, now,” said the T-Rump, patting his son on the head. “Everything’s going to be fine. It’s just the Cynette-Judy-Sherry Committee. Those three? C’mon. What could possibly happen?”
“That’s what you said the last time before you had me tell the Mediacircustops I was talking with three Kayjeebeeops about baby dinos.”
“That could play in the dirt beside the Crookadillary,” added the Futerfasphus.
The T-Rump looked from the Futerfasphus to his son.
“That’s why he’s your Solisitaur.”
“T-Rump,” said the Sukelowphus, “just so we’re straight, you’re not having this conversation with T-Rump Jr. right now.”
“Listen to you,” said the T-Rump, “Just so we’re straight. You crack me up. Listen to me, clarity is not good. Believe me, not good.”
“What about me,” said the Futerfasphus, “Am I here?”
A prehistoric cricket chirped. The Sukelowphus turned to T-Rump Junior.
“If you don’t go, they’ll send the Suppeenaraptors after you.”
“Dad, you’ve got to help me!”
“Stop that. You’re scaring him,” said the T-Rump. He tapped his chin with a gnarly claw. “Now then, what would the Putinodon want me to do? I know. What if the baby dinos were from the Crookadillary?”
“The Crookadillary is ancient history,” said the Sukelowphus.
“Okay, just a shot in the dark. How about an adjustment to the Kayjeebeeops migration pattern … because of the anticipated Biblical Flood Belt.”
“The timeline is a little sketchy but, like you said …”
“Who needs clarity?”
The T-Rump Jr. hugged his father.
“Gee, thanks, dad. You’re a lifesaver.”
David Belisle