“I demand equality,” Elizabeth “Dances With Wolf Blitzer” Warren screamed at the half-court line. “They have all the height. Our players need their fair share.” She pointed at Sheriff David Clarke Kent and his cowboy hat. “And, he’s a ….”

“Democrat,” I yelled to drown out whatever epithet she was attempting to hurl. “The R’s made him an honorary R, so under the rules of this game, he’s eligible to play on the RNC team.”

“[Expletive] it,” Coach HRC screamed from the bench. “Let’em have the turncoat.”

Sensing the possibility of bloodshed, I rushed onto the court and grabbed the basketball from Head Ref Jim Comey.

“Dances With Wolf Blitzer’s height complaint,” I said, “she may have a point.”

“Yeah,” Senator Alan Simpson said with a chuckle, “on top of her head.”

“Scalp him!” Coach HRC screamed from the DNC bench, exhorting the crowd. “We need some muscle over here.”

Senator Warren eyeballed Simpson’s slick dome, shook her head, and locked on to Big D’s full head of blondish hair as she waggled her tomahawk.

“Hold on,” Big D said, taking my mike, “I’m paying for this microphone. Nobody’s taking any scalps.” He turned to Coach HRC. “You want to rework the deal?”

“[Expletive]—A,” she said, “we’ll trade Third Reich for O’Wryly.”

“No way,” Big D said, “look how small Third’s hands are.” He looked over his squad. “How about we give you T-Lo for Turtle Waxman.”

“No [expletive] way,” HRC yelled. “We’ve got extra gear stored in Turtle’s flared nares. You’re not getting access to it.”

“Time out,” I hollered. “This is getting us nowhere.” I turned to Dances With Wolf Blitzer and HRC. “The teams will stay as is. As the game progresses, some of the RNC height will trickle down to the DNC squad, like it did in the 1980s.”

I bounced the ball back to Comey, who blew his whistle and tossed it in the air between Big D and B.O.

“You cheating bastards,” Coach HRC shrilled from the bench like an angry white man from Pennsylvania. “He’s throwing it up in favor of the [expletive] R’s.”

Behind the D’s bench, I spied white man William Rodham Clinton leering as he whispered into the hair of one of the DNC cheerleaders, a smooth move he perfected at the Uncle Joe Biden School of Creepy Charm.

The R’s took an early lead in the game, with T-Lo feeding Big D on the high post. Big D repeatedly put a hair fake on B.O., tossing his yuge blondish mane left or right, then going the other way. Simpson and O’Wryly dominated the boards, tapping in one offensive rebound after another.

At halftime, I overheard B.O. telling his squad he was “drawing a red line” and he “double-dog-dared Big D to cross it in the second half.”

Inspired by B.O., the D’s came alive in the third quarter. Their lightning-fast little players, Waxman, Reich, and Boxcutter scampered all over the court. B.O. went far left every time, confounding Big D and the R’s. B.O.’s play also energized the DNC cheerleaders and pep squad—led by the NAACP’s Rachel Dolezal and birth-control superstar Sandra Fluke, who appeared to be in a family way.

“Look what repealing Obamacare did to me!” Sandra yelled, pointing to her growing belly.

The score was tied going into the final minute of play. B.O. snagged a rebound and tossed it out to Boxcutter on a breakaway. Boxcutter raced toward her goal, her tiny feet racing for the go-ahead layup.

Just as things looked hopeless for the R’s, I noticed Coach Ribald wink at Referee Comey. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bare-chested Vladimir “Rootin’ Tootin’” Putin bounded from the sidelines onto the court atop a huge white Siberian tiger, knocking Boxcutter off her little feet. Big D grabbed the ball and slammed a 360-degree dunk over B.O. as the horn sounded, ending the game.

“I told you at the G-20 Summit in China last September to cut it out,” B.O. yelled at Poot. “Now, I mean it. Really. Cut…it…out. Or else I’m telling Jean Kerry.”

Ignoring B.O.’s stern warning, delirious fans poured out of the stands onto the court, hoisting Big D on their shoulders and parading him around the gym, dodging fights that had broken out everywhere.

Coach HRC threw an ashtray at Big D, barely missing his hair. She growled and grabbed T-Lo instead, violently messing up his frozen coiffure, then went all Ronda Rousey on R’s coach Prince Ribald, knocking him into the stands.

“They cheated,” Dances With Wolf Blitzer screamed. “The Russians interfered with the game process, altering the outcome.”

“So, sue me,” Big D scoffed from atop his players’ shoulders, hoisting the huge crystal trophy in the shape of a hanging chad.

“We had a deal,” HRC screamed as she kicked and pummeled Third Reich and Turtle Waxman, stomping on their tiny hands.

“This is not over,” Senator Warren cried.

And boy, was she ever right. As the crowd filtered out of the Trump Hotel gym….

Dont’ miss the next episode: “Operation Dribble — Part Trois: The Aftermath”

Michael Henry Copyright © 2016