Monday, November 29, 2010

Sega Genesis, Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

After the forty days and forty nights God caused a wind to blow and the waters began to recede. You may think that only evaporation can cause water to disappear from the surface of the Earth, but with God as your evaporation and precipitation regulator, anything is possible.
On the seventh day of the seventh month, which would have been the 181st day or so, the ark came to rest on the top of a mountain near the former land of Ararat. Three months later the tops of the mountains became visible. In the last chapter it was said that it only took a hundred and fifty days altogether for the water to disappear, but with God as your calendar manufacturer, anything is possible.
At the end of forty days Noah sent out a raven. The raven flew and flew and flew until the waters on all the earth had dried up, then it returned. Then Noah sent out a dove to see if the waters had receded from the lands. The dove could not find a resting place for its feet because the world was still covered in water, so it returned to Noah later that night.
Noah looked at the raven, “What the hell, Mr. Raven? I thought you flew and flew and flew until the waters on all the earth had dried up. What happened to that?”
The raven looked at him as if to say no, really, it was all dry, I swear!
“Seriously Mr. Raven? You expect me to believe that bullshit? I know the dove better than I know you, and I trust him. He came back to me tonight, telling me that all the water on the earth is not dried up after all. What do you have to say to that?”
The raven had nothing to say to that.
Now God had commanded that Noah take seven pairs of each winged creature on the ark for a reason, and it was quite serendipitous that God was so wise, otherwise we would no longer have ravens. That night there remained only six pairs of ravens and one female raven, and Noah and his kinship feasted on Raven stew, thus creating the rule “All lairs are made into soup.”
Seven days later Noah sent out the dove again. It returned to him later that night with a freshly plucked olive leaf in his beak. Although he killed every living thing that walked the earth, God exempted trees. Otherwise, how would God get his olive tapenade? Seeing the olive branch, Noah knew that the waters had receded from the earth. He could have looked out of the window he sent the dove out of, of course, but Noah knew better than to trust his perception. A week later Noah sent out the dove once again and this time the dove did not return. Noah knew that this meant that the earth was now dry and he, his kinship, and the animals could leave the ark. The earth was dry, but that's not the reason the dove didn't return; it flew all the way to Michigan and started a hand soap company. And that's where Dove Brand Products come from.
On Noah's six hundred and first birthday he finally removed the covering from the ark and saw that the ground was dry, which he could have done in the first place, but he'd rather have expended some birds first. Fifty-eight days later the earth was dry. The ground, of course, being mutually exclusive from the earth. Do not question this logic; for with God as your earth-dryer, anything is possible.
On this fifty-eighth day God spoke once again to Noah, saying “Noah!”
“God! Long time no see! Or hear, rather. Where have you been?”
“Where y'all think I been? This some kinda interrogation?” asked God.
“No, I—”
“Silence! Now's the time. You gotta get yo ass out that ark. You, yo bitch, yo boys, they bitches, all them animals n' shit. All that shit, get it out that big-ass boat. All them birds, all them bugs, them motha fuckin' animals and even the fish.”
“Fish? You didn't tell me to get any fish...”
“Y'all didn't get the fish? What the fuck mane? Oh no, oh no!”
Noah panicked, “But you didn't say to get the fish. Was I supposed to? Oh glory no, what have I done? What have I done?” he said, beginning to weep.
“Hahaha, nigga you been stung!” said God, “I was only fuckin' wich'a. I flooded the damn Earff, the fish is fine.”
Noah revealed a large frown and briefly considered the benefits to atheism.
“So, we can go?” asked Noah.
“Bet yo ass you can go. I want that fuckin' boat now. Get off my fuckin' boat. Let dem animals out and let'em get fuckin'!”
And Noah did what the lord told him to. He, his wife, his sons and their wives all exited the boat along with all the pairs of animals, those that flew, those that walked, those that crawled, those that burrowed through the earth—those clean and those unclean. All exited the ark.
Upon exiting the Ark, Noah built an altar to God. Upon building the alter he rounded up several of the clean animals and made burnt offerings to God, first slaying the animals upon the alter then burning their bodies. God was pleased for a while until he noticed something.
“Yo Noah, where is the unicorn at?”
“Oh God, I'm glad you noticed. I've built this altar to you, and what I did is I took one of the Unicorns and I slew it and burnt it in your name, offering up a sacrifice to your glory!”
“Noah, is you some kinda clown-ass fool?”
“I'm sorry God?”
“Where's the other unicorns at?”
“Oh, well a good number of them I think are kind of to the west of the mountain near...” God interrupted him.
“Motha fucka, those the horses.”
“Oh. Well I'm sure they're around here somewhere. We've got like, six more pair and another fem—” Noah was cut off again.
“No. Da Unicorns was unclean. They's only two.”
“Really? Well they were white and I thought that...”
“Motha what the? Listen mane, just 'cause it's white don't mean the fuck it's clean. Look at the jackrabbit. That motha fucka fuck like a motha fuckin' jackrabbit and that ain't no fuckin' clean animal. Sinful, sinful motha'bitch.”
“Oh, well I'm uh, I'm sure...” Noah trailed off.
“Yo monkey ass has just killed the last my last mo'fuckin' unicorn, dummy! And there ain't no more on the way.”
“I—I...”
“And I can't go on makin' anotha one you know!”
“I—um, I, uh...” Noah stammered.
“Bitch please. I'm done with y'all,” said God, whereupon he cracked open his seventh Coors light of the day.
After his tenth Coors light God began to feel charitable again. He called down on Noah. “Yo, Noah!”
Noah was busy burning more animals, ones he was sure he had multiples of. “Yes, my God?”
“Listen mane, I didn't mean all that shit. Fuck the unicorns, they was just horses wit horns on dey fuckin' dumb ass heads, anyways. Fuck it. Listen mane, I've made a cedisio—fuck—I've made a decision. From now on I ain't gonna fuck with da Earff 'cause a' man, even though they all fuckin' dummies from the time dey born. I ain't gonna do what I just did again, that was kinda fucked, mane.”
“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “That was a pretty messed up thing to do.”

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