Cybersaurus? What Cybersaurus?

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A nervous humility settled over the Tyrumposaurus, his smug pomposity leaving him for its rightful owner, the resolute puppet master squatting nearby.

“You have a Cybersaurus sniffing in my backyard,” said the Putinodon. “Deep in my backyard.”

The Russodino leader swished his tail across the ground in a slow, steady motion … kindling the tension … stoking the suspense … firing the fear. The short Putinodon squatted on a rock three higher than the T-Rump, glaring down from a position of authority. For his latest burn.

“I didn’t know about it. Honest,” pleaded the T-Rump.

“You gave your Cybersaurus command dinos the go ahead on this a year ago. Are you telling me you forgot about it?”

The T-Rump gulped. How could he tell the Putinodon that he forgot a lot of things? Like … everything.

“The Langleyops, they don’t tell me anything. I don’t think they respect me. I have no idea why.”

“Enough! It’s done. Your Langleyops minions leaked it to the Mediacircustops. You left me no choice.”

“To do what?” asked the T-Rump.

“Argie-Bargie, Para-Uruguay. 50 million dinos. Powerless.”

“That was you?”

Normally, the Putinodon’s knowing smirk said it all. But his Kayjeebeeops dino background told him the T-Rump would always need things spelled out.

“That was I. The dino you answer to. I suggest you go back to the Oval Dwelling and put your rhetoric on high flame against the Mediacircustops or the next story they tell will be …”

“Uh, the Moscovian Bluffs luxury cave? The multi-dino bungle in the jungle? Not my special pee tree?”

“There are so many to choose from,” the Putinodon said with a wry smile. “The Christophersteele barely scraped the surface …”

Within hours the T-Rump’s Trollertweety had practically morphed into a fire-breathing dragon …

“Squawk!  Mediacircustops! Virtual act of treason! Desperate! Squawk! Also, Not True! Anything goes! Squawk! Not even the slightest thought of consequence! Unlike the T-Rump. Squawk! True cowards! Enemy of the dinos! Squawk!”

The T-Rump arrived back at the Oval Dwelling, but not before the Jimacosta caught up with him.

“T-Rump! Did you read the Dinos Open Jawed legal opinion refusing to hand the Mytaxes Returnus skins you’ve shed for the last six years over to the Richardneal?”

“Of course I have.”

The Jimacosta’s jaw hit the ground.

All 33 footprints in the sand?”

“What? If I’m going to lie about reading the Muellersavus’ Report’s 448 footprints, then of course I’m going to lie about 33. You’re not too bright, Jim.”

“T-Rump, the legal opinion said the committee lacks a legitimate, legislative purpose but the Richardneal said they’re conducting oversight to keep future dino leaders from hiding their skins.”

“This would set a dangerous precedent. Very dangerous.”

“What precedent? You’re the precedent for NOT providing your Mytaxes Returnus. Every other dino leader has. You claim the Richardneal is acting pre-textual.”

“Pre-textual? Don’t give me pre-textual. I already told you I read the damn thing. The request is unauthorized, okay?”

“Unauthorized? It’s the law! As in shall furnish.”

“Don’t be a wise guy, Jim. I’m just obeying the Dinos Open Jawed and my Attorney General. What was that? Did somebody just cough? I hate it when I’m interrupted by a cough. Mickmulvaney! It was you, wasn’t it? Get out of here! And take the Jimacosta with you.”

A moment later, the T-Rump squatted in the Oval Dwelling. Alone. This wouldn’t do. He had to be seen.

“Mick! Get back in here!”

The Mickmulvaney arrived out of breath.

“Yes, T-Rump?”

“Go get the Huckabeecyclops for me.”

“She left.”

“Whaddaya mean left?! She owes me two weeks!”

“Uh, T-rump. She said that since she’s done nothing for three months, why wait another two weeks?”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you track her down and tell her she’s paying me back two weeks moolah-moolah or she can kiss that little rock in Arkansas she’s gonna hide behind good-bye.”

“Very well, T-Rump. Oh, I’ve taken the liberty to line up the best dinos we have for her vacant position, you know, doing her best to keep the Milkanhoney Preservation informed.

“She’s going to be so difficult to replace. Who do we have?”

“The Stevecourtes and the Hogangidley.”

“And?”

“Uh, that’s it.”

“No women?”

“There were three who showed an interest … but they backed out, afraid you’d show an interest in them.”

A frown from the T-Rump.

“Fine. Send’em in.”

The Stevecourtes stomped in, the expression on his face saying he was happy and looking for a fight at the same time. The Hogangidley ambled in behind him, not quite as confident. More of a bewildered whimp of a dino, one that a stiff breeze might deposit elsewhere.

The T-Rump sized up his two candidates.

“Steve, Hogan, I’m getting nailed out there. Who wants the job? Who’s going to protect me, spread the lies? Can you throw yourself off a cliff for me and kick the Mitchgetbacktowork in the teeth if need be? Well?”

“Excuse me, T-Rump,” said Hogan. “I don’t think I can rightly kick Mitch in the teeth if I just threw myself off a cliff.”

Idiot, thought the T-Rump. That’s what I’m down to.

“Steve, you’re first.”

“T-Rump, thanks for this golden opportunity.  Look, you know I know migration. I’m what they call specialized. So let me tell you this. I just came up with it a minute ago, so yes, I can think and speak at the same time. I’m telling you, this Great Tex-Mex Divide crisis, it’s a cyber-migration conspiracy. That’s right. And we can blame it on the Africanamerica dino. I mean, what are they even doing there? It makes no sense at all … but very good sense for my latest conspiracy theory.”

The Stevecourtes smug smile was met with the T-Rump’s scrunched face of confused disbelief. The dino leader nodded for the Hogangidley to hop in.

“Ah, thank you, T-Rump. I want you to try this one on fer size. Yuh see, we’re used to seein’ the men messin’ around with the moolah-moolah what with the corruption an’ all. But now yuh see the wife of the Netan-yee-haw over in them Middle Eastlands and the Duncanhunter’s wife spendin’ other dino’s moolah-moolah like it’s goin’ outta style … and the Mitchgetbacktowork’s wife, the Elainechao helpin’ him out with a million here and there … an’ the Stevenmnuchin’s wife puckerin’ up now fer a quick fix on her trashy-trash image …”

“Exactly what are you trying to say, Hogan?”

“Oh, I was just ramblin’ on. … No, hold on. What I’m sayin’, boss, is blame the wife! Why not? You’re married, ain’t yuh?”

The smallest walnut turned slowly in the T-Rump’s brain.

“If I may,” said the Stevecourtes. “The Tymelania did say ‘Be Best.’ So, you’ve gotta ask yourself, T-Rump. Who’s the best in your family?”