CANTO FOUR. SCOTT PRUITT.
From the land of Ponca, where Tornado Alley thrives,
Came a Great White Lawyer, with the dust of cattle drives.
Scott Pruitt was a trumpsman who believed in smoke and mirrors.
He thought that global warming was just pandering to fears.
He loved the smell of sulfur and he treated fossil fuels
As tenderly and eagerly as if they were rare jewels.
He cherished ev’ry lump of coal that Santa brought his way;
To him they were a badge of honor with a sweet cachet.
The fiery indignation of tree huggers left him cold.
He had no heart for anything but methane and black gold.
He loved a roaring furnace full of clinkers and hot coke,
With ashen clouds spread round about, making people choke.
He did not go unnoticed by the fiends down in the pit;
They liked his motivation and they thought it very fit
To grant him a vacation in their flaming regions low --
Where soot and sparks and charcoal fumes eternally do blow.
And so it came to pass that one fine day while Pruitt planned
To have most of the EPA rules permanently banned,
An imp came through the floor to grab his ankles for a trip
Down into the murky bowels of earth at quite a clip.
Pluto greeted him with pleasure in his kingdom hot,
And bade him to relax, then peeled for him a tart kumquat.
“I find it rather warm down here” said Pruitt with a grunt.
“I hope that you are not averse to having a cold front.”
Pluto roared with laughter; twas a jest indeed, he thought.
But Pruitt found the atmosphere was getting rather hot.
When he pled to be released back to the upper world,
To feel the zephyrs cooling and smell flower scents unfurled --
Pluto roared again, but not with pleasure -- only pique
That Pruitt from his close embrace would think to slyly sneak.
“By all the tar and asphalt in my kingdom” he replied,
“You’ll park your carcass here with me and long time will abide!”
Meanwhile back upon the earth, the clerks of Pruitt fell
To telling his appointments that old Scott had gone to hell.
When all the other trumpsmen heard about his dire plight,
They shrugged in full indiff’rence and then hoped he’d be alright.
For though a trumpsman beats his breast and claims a noble heart,
He rarely thinks of others outside of a neat pie chart.
Thus Pruitt found himself upon extended leave down under,
Sweating midst the greasy gloom of Pennzoil’s future plunder.
(to be continued)
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