Sunday, August 23, 2009

Rush's Ark

Gawd went to his bulbous, bilious servant, Rush, disturbing him as he penned a list of reasons why he hated his neighbors in the village. Gawd said, "Rush, build an ark by this number of cubits, by that many cubits, by whatever else number of cubits. And fill this ark with two of every venal, petty, contrary opinion and belief -- catch them like fireflies and be sure they survive. I have been on a binge, drinking the Cosmos' version of Milwaukee's Finest, and will soon empty my bladder upon the urinal puck of your world."

Rush waited -- twig poised above his wet, clay tablet -- to see if Gawd was going to say more. Gawd did: "Oh yeah, and in order for these venal, petty, counter-intuitive opinions to flourish upon the earth, be sure to bring people upon the ark whose minds have all the same jagged edges and asymmetrical crevices for these cancerous beliefs to live in."

Rush waited to see if there were more instructions. There were not. He wondered if a "cubit" was a unit of measurement from that liberal, communist, new-world-order metric system. There were days when he had his doubts about Gawd.

So, Rush built the ark. Actually, Rush employed his usual strategy when there was work to be done -- he got others to do it for him. He duped them with promises of high wages, payable upon completion. On the day of completion, the workers came around Rush's hut looking for their payment. By that point, the sky had darkened and it appeared Gawd's cosmic beer-binge was ending. All that remained was The Great Micturition.

"Give me one more day," Rush told the workers. "It's about to rain. As soon as it stops raining, come back, and I'll pay everyone."

The workers were unhappy with this, but figured a short delay couldn't hurt.

As the rains fell, Rush led all of the unreasonable, cancerous, sniping opinions into the ark. By the time he invited his few friends into the ark, Rush was wet and cranky; his crotch hurt from his legs rubbing together during all of the walking he was forced to do corralling and herding the opinions.

When Rush's friends -- Anne Coulter, Glenn Beck, Sean Inanity, Bilious O'Reilly, Michael Wiener and Robert Novak (who was no longer alive, but strangely, nobody noticed) -- boarded the ark, the first thing they noticed was the primitive conditions of their new habitat.

"Where are the waiters and domestics going to sleep?" Anne Coulter asked. "I like being served, but I don't want to actually be around those people."

"We're going to have to live without some of our creature comforts," Rush explained.

"I resent being called a creature," Sean Inanity pouted, crossing his arms. "And while I'm at it, I don't see a hair stylist station."

"There are no hair stylists!" Rush said, impatient. "It's just us! Don't you understand? Gawd is pissing this world away, and we've been chosen to be saved!"

"Sounds like socialism to me," Glenn Beck said.

"What do you mean?" Bilious O'Reilly asked him.

"I don't know," said Glenn Beck.

Robert Novak kept his own counsel.

* * *

The rains came, flooding the earth. The workers who'd built the ark waited at Rush's hut until they were swept away by the rising tides.

The inhabitants of the ark --

"I resent being called an 'inhabitant'" Sean Inanity groused through pursed lips.

-- unpacked their possessions. Each had been assigned an area in the ark. Everyone insisted on having their own space, to do with whatever they pleased.

The first sign of disharmony among the residents of the ark --

"I prefer to be called a 'passenger,'" whined Sean Inanity.

-- was when Michael Wiener began his prolonged colonic ablutions within his area. He had every right to do so, nobody argued that, but he went about the unpleasantness without the slightest thought for the people around him.

Bilious O'Reilly produced an axe from his luggage, and began chopping at the floor of the ark. Rush rushed over to stop him. "Are you insane?" Rush shouted. "You're cutting right into the bottom of the ark! You break through there, you'll sink us!"

"It's my right," Bilious O'Reilly said.

"Well, Jeezus, sure you have the right," Rush said, exasperated, "but that doesn't mean it's right to do it!"

"It's my right," said Bilious O'Reilly.

* * *

Sean Inanity had brought numerous books of matches into the ark so that he could continue one of his favorite passtimes: lighting farts. Seeing flashes in the darkness, Rush approached Inanity, wondering what he was doing. Although the activity looked like fun, danger was on Rush's mind.

"What're you doing?" Rush demanded. "If you light the ark on fire, you'll sink us all!"

"It's my right!" Sean Inanity pouted. He always hated being interrupted when the gas was flowing.

"Well, sure, but what good is your right if you burn up the boat?"

"It's my right."

* * *

One day, Rush awoke with a start from an afternoon nap to the sound of automatic gun fire. He hurried to the other end of the ark and found Anne Coulter shooting at targets with her Ingram Automatic pistol. She was shooting at slow moving opinions that had innocently wandered to her end of the ark. She'd hit a few of them, but had also ravaged the wall of the ark.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rush shouted. "If you shoot through that wall, you'll drown us all!"

"It's my right," Anne Coulter said, turning with her gun, forgetting to aim the barrel downward. Rush stared at the pistol's bore, pointed directed at him.

"Could you point that away from me?" he said.

"Oh sure," Anne Coulter said. In shifting it away from him, her finger accidentally pulled the trigger and fired a round into the floor of the ark. She shrugged and laughed. "Oops."

Rush struggled to control himself. "Understand, that wall and this floor are all that stand between us and all of the water. If the water gets into the ark, the ark will sink and we'll drown. There is no land for us to swim to. No lifeboats on this ark. It's just us."

"But it's my right," Anne Coulter said.

* * *

Then there came the day when a constant, seemingly-unending thudding sound awakened Rush. He walked through the ark and found Glenn Beck with a ping pong paddle in each hand, pounding two balls rhythmically against the wall in his area. Rush watched. Beck was incessant. The sound was maddening. Within two minutes, Rush was ready to strangle him.

"Glenn!" Rush shouted louder than he intended.

Beck caught the balls and turned to Rush. "What's up?"

"Do you have to do that?"

"What? Ping-ponging? I do it for exercise."

"Jeezus, you exercise like that? How do you stay so fat?"

"A remanant of my heavy drug use. When I was an addict, I must've blown my works apart. Still, ping-ponging's fun."

"But the sound of it is driving me crazy."

Glenn Beck looked at him, blank. "But I do it for exercise."

"But, really, the sound has me going out of my mind."

"It's my right."

Rush gritted his teeth. "Yes, I understand it's your right. But in the name of all that's holy, could you please see your way toward giving it a break for a while?"

"But it's my right."

As Rush walked dejectedly away from Glenn Beck, he passed Robert Novak's section. Bob had been very quiet since coming aboard. At least he understood what it meant for people to try and live together. Rush entered his area and heard laughter. The laughter didn't sound like Bob, and a moment later he saw its source -- the opinions and beliefs Gawd ordered brought aboard were skittering and running around like rats. They took off when Rush entered. It took some doing, but Rush eased his massive girth onto the floor, so that he sat next to Robert Novak.

"Bob, what's wrong with the others?" Rush said.

Bob said nothing.

"We've got to live together on this ark. I don't like the inconveniences any more than they do, but until the floodwaters recede and dry land once again appears, we're stuck here."

Bob said nothing.

"You're very wise, Bob. You keep your own counsel. There's no getting through to them."

Through the ark echoed the sounds of gun fire, incessant ping-ponging, the chopping of wood, giggles and short gas bursts catching flame, and the wet, gruesome sounds drifting down from Michael Wiener's section.

And the first narrow stream of water ran down the center aisle of the ark. The wretched, cancerous, bat-like opinions and beliefs cackled at the sight of it -- sure, they could fly. It was water from outside. Rush looked at it and hung his head.

Bob kept his own counsel.

Rush reached into his pocket and took out a bottle of Oxycontin. "What the fuck?" he said.

Bob kept his own counsel.

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