Watergate? Just Wait!

W



“You want to run that by me again?”

Milkanhoney Preservation District Dino Judge, the Amitmehta, stared down from his lofty, rocky perch at the T-Rump legal dino, the Williamconsovoy.

“Certainly, your long-tailedness. You see, we simply can’t have those dastardly Donkeykongrus dinos peeking at the moolah-moolah leaves of the T-Rump. It’s an assault on his privacy, his trustworthiness and — this is paramount — his marketing image.”

“But they are an oversight committee.”

“I suggest they send their sights over there,” the legal dino said, pointing flippantly off to the side. “Anywhere but in the T-Rump’s business.”

“So …” the judge paused, his eyeballs burrowing into his skull, “you’re saying the T-Rump’s moolah-moolah is not subject to investigation?”

“Yep.”

“The Kongrus Kave can’t verify the accuracy of the T-Rump’s statements about his moolah-moolah?”

“Never. Ever.”

“Riddle me this, then,” said the Amitmehta. “If the T-Rump was involved in some corrupt goings-on, you mean to tell me because he’s the leader of the Milkanhoney Preservation, the Kongrus Kave would not have power to investigate?”

“That’s pretty much about it. It’s, ahem … not pursuant to it’s legislative agenda. Not purr-soo-ant.”

He said the words like they were a get out of jail card.

“Well then,” said the judge. “Why don’t we take a peek at a wee fly in the ointment called legal precedent? Like, perhaps the Watergate Strait? I’m specifically speaking of whether or not the Trickydickeroo’s corrupt goings-on should’ve been shielded from the Kongrus Kave’s scrutiny. Well? Should it?”

Beads of sweat rolled down the Williamconsovoy’s face. This was a glaring symptom of what would come to be known as ASS. Acute Sycophant Syndrome. How far was the Williamconsovoy willing to go for the T-Rump?

“Ahem, well .. uh … you see … uh … I guess I’d have to um, look at some, uh … more specific questions  … (cough, cough) … surrounding that controversy.”

“Objection!”

It was the Rudygiuliani, rising from his squat behind the dino defense’s rocky bench. A shocked Williamconsovoy turned to him.

“Objection? We’re on the same team.”

“He’s got you on the ropes, Willy boy. Time for me to take over.”

The Rudygiuliani looked up, squinted, his eyes finally finding the judge.

“Your long-tailedness. This Watergate Strait thing. I’ve got to tell you, it was an out-and-out frame job of a cover-up of a media circus from the very start.”

“Oh?”

“Of course it was. You have five dinos nabbed in the Watergate Strait. A classic case of wrong place at the wrong time. Have you seen that maze of caves? Very, very easy to get lost.”

“How do you explain the slush fund these dinos were paid from? That was moolah-moolah earmarked for the Trickydickeroo’s next battle campaign.”

“Canvassing, Judge. They were simply canvassing.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Why not? I myself have several neighbours who are nocturnal.”

“Apparently I need to remind you that 48 dinos were found guilty during the Watergate Strait scandal.”

“48? Well, there you go. We only have 34 on the hook so far. No comparison, judge. Apples and oranges.”

The dino judge Amitmehta’s scowl simmered on high.

“Should we have just let the Trickydickeroo do as he pleased, like the Saturday Night Massacre?”

“Okay, granted. That got a little out of hand. But, c’mon. We’ve all had the munchies, right?”

“What about the Smockinggun?”

You could hear a pin drop. The Williamconsovoy sighed. This was it. They’d finally gone too far. The jig was up. There was no stopping Rudy however.

“Smockinggun? The tapeworms? Another misunderstanding.”

“No Smockinggun?”

“No sirree. That was indigestion.”

“I don’t follow.”

“It’s simple. The dinos of the Milkanhoney Preservation were simply not ready to digest what the Trickydickeroo said. Give them time. 45 years later, now they’re ready.”

“But the cover-up. The impeachment.”

“Ah, yes. The “I” word. The Donkeykongrus is not saying that now because they know the groundswell of support it would give the T-Rump.”

The incredulous judge could only shake his head.

“I have a good mind to ask you to provide a character witness this minute to assure me you’re not criminally insane.”

The Rudygiuliani smirked, turning to the dino audience of the court cave, giving them a full profile of his false bravado. His eyebrows rose however, as his gaze found the Flynnhasbeen.

“Mike! So good to see you. You heard the judge. Care to say a few words?”

“Rudy! No!” hissed the Williamconsovoy. But it was too late. The Flynnhasbeen rose from his squat. He wasn’t smiling. For the first time since planning, then quickly canceling a trip to Ukrainia the week before, the Rudygiuliani appeared nervous.

“Rudy,” said the Flynnhasbeen. “I’m not sure I can find the right words–”

“Okay, okay. Right you are. Tell him — tell him about the T-Rump legal team then.”

“Oh, well. Actually, I already have. I helped the Muellersavus for months. I told him how the T-Rump’s legal dino, the Dowderpuff, threatened me, obstructing justice, believe it or not. The Muellersavus is believing it. I have the footprints in the sand to prove it. Verbatim.”

“Objection!”

It was the Williamconsovoy’s turn to erupt from his squat.

“Your long-tailedness, I’d like to claim executive privilege on what was just said. Just those last couple of sentences. Puh-lease strike them from the record. ”

A curt, condescending smile spread wide on the judge’s lips.

“Sorry. Too late. Ahem. I’ve had about all the legal blather, bluster and b.s. I can stand for one day. Dino court is adjourned.”

He rose and hammered his tail on the flat rock before him.

The Rudygiuliani went googly-eyed while the Williamconsovoy raised a short arm.

“Your long-tailedness, you can’t go. What are we gonna do? We can’t go back to the T-Rump. He’ll destroy us.”

The dino judge paused, turning to them.

“I hear the Walmartarus is hiring. As greeters, it’s pretty hard to screw up hello and goodbye, but I know you’ll try.”

About the author

David Belisle
David Belisle

David Belisle is a humor novelist and creator of The T-Rump Dig, a satirical, dinosaur take on the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir's goings-on during the Trumpassic Period. Like getting hit with GOV B.S. (Gatorade's Orange Victory Bucket Splash), it's a good time that sticks with you. ... A Scrabble-playing, fantasy sports buff, the Calgary-based Belisle has sharpened his pencils in New York, Nebraska and the always fun to pronounce Flin Flon, Manitoba.