First, let’s just get some facts out of the way—
I’m bigger than I look. I’m a big girl, even as ships go. And no, that’s not shame. I’m not ashamed. I’m just saying, things can easily get lost or hidden on me. Fact. There are parts of me that I don’t even know about. Like, apparently I have some sort of time travel portal. Fact. I only figured it out after feeling a bit woozy and then noticing some random undocumented figures who’re awful brown for our region of the world, milling around, looking mopey in one of the goats and sheep kennels. *shrug* I’m not going to say it was human trafficking or a slave trade, but I definitely, I mean I know for sure the whole truth has not come out about that one. Noah’s least favorite son, Ham, that piece of work, was probably behind it all.
Also, things were built on me. From makeshift wooden cauldrons to necklaces made of rats’ teeth. Never claimed. Nobody claimed this stuff manufactured on me and then they just abandoned it. Piles of mildewed scrolls and heaps of lice-ridden rabbits’ foot charms. How many crystal balls does one family need? None of it is accounted for, but I have to carry it. Not fun. AND. Somebody or a few different somebodies scratched nasty remarks about Noah into my lower hide. Not cool. So, Noah was a bit of a hoarder and that can be frustrating to deal with, understood, but don’t take it out on me.
Other strange undocumented happenings, comings and goings—
It’s not talked about—was stricken from the record for sure—but emigration was sorta huge. I mean, there were some creatures that were like, You know what? I bet I could swim it, like float to safety, wait it out in the water, you know? Well. Maybe not, but it’d be worth a try.
Yeah. It’s true. There were some species that were having none of it. They were originally documented but then stricken from the record after they waged a straight-up mutiny. Like I said, lotsa “official” journals were altered en route, even in the account of how long the flood lasted. Anyways, some ex-pats, I think you’ve dug up the remains of a handful or so. You call them stuff like Tyrannosaurus Rex and Velociraptor. They tore my hull up something awful in mortal combat with the chief. Yeah, they were enormous.
I told you, I’m big and much bigger on the inside. I’m the original TARDIS, for real. Time travel! Don’t look at me that way. I don’t know how. I don’t know how God does it. He’s supernatural. Who can explain it, his works and whatnot?
In conclusion and in continuation of my defense—
OK, like really, I don’t consider myself political. However, basically, I’m nothing but walls. I’m a floating semi-circle of sacred geometry, and I’m unmistakably property. Like, I scream whoever is here owns me or is tight with the guy who owns and had me made or found me, won me, whatever. But I have to note at this point in time—nobody owns me. I’m my own girl lady.
But you know, I can’t help it if people climb up on and then into me on the sly. I’m essentially at the mercy of my handlers. And you know Noah, bless his heart, not the best navigator, not the best chief captain guy. I mean, little known fact, God’s reasoning around choosing Noah to lead the future of humanity wasn’t really about how super awesome he was. It was more about how straight-up nasty—breeding and propagating bed bugs, couldn’t be bothered to change out the straw once in a while—and loathsome—nobody wants to hear about how big your hands are and what that may signify—everyone else was at the time. Fact. The major takeaway here is to surround yourself with people way worse than you to reap the rewards of proximity variance (or something).
A brief introductory list of undocumented passengers—
Heaps and barrels of liquor or “wine” as it’s often written or translated in your contemporary Bibles. Don’t judge. It made that miserable trip in what went from being my gorgeous countenance to a crowded, filthy, stinking sty, bearable.
Dreams. Even when you’re not falling or being chased, they’re so f’n freaky!
Oh, and by one of your other definitions of dreams, the one that implies hope. Now there’s a scary thing, hope. Gotta keep one eye on it at all times, especially when it applies to hope for a better life or better world. Noah could tell you. Look up all his post-flood family drama.
Shadows. So sneaky. And they take up way more headspace than you’re aware of and, little known fact, they have been known to kill. Dangerous. Keep them out!
Other undocumented passengers, originally miscategorized—
Angels. Not always as pleasant as the name seems to imply by current translations and definitions. Exhibit A: Lucifer. You know?
Vampires. Originally miscategorized as bats, which is bad enough. Obviously, a dreadful scourge to be eliminated with all due haste.
Sandals. Not a mammal after all. Don’t give me that look, these were primitive times. God just left things lying around and put it on people to figure out what it was and how to use and name it.
You know, I’m doing my best to correct the record and clear my name. This is only a brief “taster” list—more to come!
