Diluvium: In Which Noah Describes his Daily Schedule
“I borrow a piece of thick cardboard and write, ‘The end of the world is coming’ (I wanted to be concise) on it with a Magic Marker, and then I stood in front of the grocery store for several hours, holding it up.Overall I would say that it did not go over well. ”
~Noah, Diluvium 8
Happy Monday! I hope you enjoy this week’s post, Diluvium 9: In Which Noah Describes his Daily Schedule.
As I plan what to post on the blog in the months ahead, I’m wondering if readers have a preference? As those of you who have been with me from the beginning can attest, I like to post a wide variety of genres. For those who like to laugh, there are the Bible stories, The Haunted Fairy Castle, or Monologue of a Co-Worker. For those who prefer something more serious, we have Feathers and Waterproof & Green. For the romantically inclined, there’s MJ: A Love Story, and for those who like a mystery, there’s The House Behind the Oaks. If you’re interested in helping me choose the genre for what to post next, please take a moment to click on the survey at the end of this post, or write me a message in the comments section.
Hope you have a wonderful Monday,
◊ Installment 9 ◊
My days began to take on a more regular routine now. In the mornings I would wake up early, wrangle several animals out of the jungle/zoo/latest delivery from Africa, or wherever else I had found them, and tie them up in our basement/laundry room/kitchen, depending mainly on size, weight, and tendency to attack smaller animals/humans. My wife took to having nervous fits whenever she went into the laundry room (I think it was the crocodile tethered to the ironing board that got to her) so eventually I built a series of barns and pens in the wreckage of my former vineyard, and kept the animals there. The smell was appalling. The waste product from the elephants alone was enough to make you question God’s purpose in creating the elephant to begin with, and to this day, elephants still strike me as fundamentally useless creatures. But you get used to it.
I generally devoted my afternoons, between lunchtime and tea, to ark building; leveling small forests (so as to generate enough ark building material for the next day); and reading the latest weather forecasts in The Mesopotamian Sophisticate. None of them ever got it right. After you read those things for a while, you begin to notice a pattern (Monday: sunny, Tuesday: sunny, Wednesday: sunny with slight chance of cloud coverage in late afternoon, followed by sun), and you begin to realize that weather forecasters in places like the former Mesopotamia and modern day Los Angeles have really bogus jobs.
In the late afternoons, I would get out my cardboard sign and stand in front of the grocery store for several hours, enduring public ridicule. Yes, it was unpleasant, but I felt it was my duty. At this point, I had basically decided to embrace the idea of being Good. (Because it looked like I didn’t have much a choice anyway, and it was either that or embrace an early and uncomfortably damp death.) A Good Person, whether he wants to or not, is always willing to sacrifice his personal pleasure (and/or health/safety) if there’s even the slightest chance of helping another person. (Which is why Good People have a tendency to die young.) For me, this sacrifice meant enduring mockery and contempt, also giving up a chunk of prime ark building time, to stand in the blazing sun and have people throw things at me in order to save the lives of individuals whom, at this point, I could have watched drown with very little personal regret.
The funny part of it all was that I don’t even like doom-saying. I absolutely can’t stand those psychopaths who go around howling, “Oh, it’s the end of the world … everyone must convert to my personal branch of religion/Satan worship/veganism, or there’s going to be a judgment.” I prefer to keep myself to myself, and just get on with things, avoiding the spotlight. So it puts me in a really awkward situation when God actually DOES tell me that the end of the world is coming, and I’m the only one capable of spreading the news. You think I enjoyed that? You develop a reputation, and no one takes you seriously, and you get kicked out of prominent public roles, such as Executive Commissioner of Public Works, and Senior Book Chooser at the library. (Actually, I was the only book chooser. No one else read much in those days –actually I was the only one with a library card- but still.) Everyone says, “oh, you’re THAT Noah,” and you become this kind of circus sideshow freak who everyone wants to come and see, and laugh at. It’s kind of like being a celebrity in a way, and it would all be great assuming one WANTED to be laughed at, which I didn’t.
Well I endured it, but I didn’t enjoy it. The thing is, people only want to listen to a Prophet if they like his Message. If a Prophet says, “Hey everyone, we all know it’s hard not to sin. But I’ve decided to nail myself to a cross so you can keep sinning, and get forgiven for it anyway,” that’s a message that most people are okay with. But if a Prophet says, “The end of the world is coming, and even though you have absolutely zero chance of survival, I just want you to be aware of the fact,” that is not a message that people respond well to. (Or if they do respond, it’s generally in the form of tomatoes past their sell-by date, aimed at the Prophet’s head with surprising speed and accuracy, because even though mankind at this time was not known for its moral fiber or literacy, they were surprisingly talented athletes.) ♦
(To be continued…)
Help me decide what to post next!