I wonder about Noah and the ark. I wonder if by day nine, the family, even the animals, were already regretting the whole venture. The rain was merciless and beat down on them day and night. The water sent the ark bow down into gullies and then upright again.(more) Everyone was seasick even the cows. The wives were beginning to bicker. Their husbands were already, out of boredom and seasickness, beginning to look at other women, who were in limited supply. Noah tried to hid his worries under his ankle-long beard like a tickertape of concerns. Would his sons remain faithful? Would the boat withstand the drumming of the storm? Could he stand the memory of the screaming of those left behind? He had never wanted to be appointed God’s divine executioner. He was a simple man; he had never wanted any of this.
For some reason, his wife after years of not caring was now wanting sex with him morning and night. As if infected by the fecundity of the pregnancies already among all species on the ship, she was now talking feverishly about having more children. Noah could hardly stand his life. He had known this wasn’t going to be a pleasure cruise but the bickering, the long languid stares of his sons, their muffled erections, and the animals fucking everywhere. He was a staid man. A quiet man. Now he was running a circus of sex.
“Lord, “ he prayed, “Why me? What have I ever done to you?” God, of course, said nothing, sent him a dream about a cough drop. What was he supposed to do with a dream about a cough drop? Oh, it was going to be a long time before they saw land, for all of them, man and beast.