Aping The Ark
by Aug Stone
Just as the rumor persists that Noah’s actual name was Yoah and therefore an anagram of ‘Ahoy’, so do reports of other ark-itects attempting similar salvation at the time of The Great Flood. Including Noah’s childhood friend Antaeus who idolized him, imitating the righteous man in nearly all that he did. Truth be told, Noah was often annoyed by the misguided mimicry, as well as baffled by Antaeus’ bizarre choices for just about everything, such as the already urine-colored loincloth he gave Methuselah for his 500th birthday, but when the world’s ending and your buddy’s built a boat, well, you can rise above petty squabbles.
Tayus, as he was known, caught wind of the whole waters destroying the Earth thing early on, and, as he confessed to Noah, was “rather shaken up by the prospect”. Before Noah could accuse him of eavesdropping, Tayus was on his way to Australia, having heard tale of the kangaroo from an itinerant boxer and, on this story alone, deemed them worthy of preservation, much to the chagrin of more local fauna, who were growing anxious about their place at the table. Spotting a second boat in the works helped to allay their fears, but Tayus really cut it close getting back in time. The majority of construction fell to his friends and family, “earning their passage”. ‘Family’ as in his younger brothers, their wives, and children, for Tayus never quite understood relationship dynamics and thus remained a bachelor all his many days. One subject to whims, sulks, and in constant need of attention. While he would acknowledge his workforce behind closed doors, publicly Uncle Tay took credit for the entire enterprise. Dressed in a mismatched multi-colored coat that Joseph would later use as a blueprint for what he didn’t want, Tayus led the embarkation procession, announcing the guests with the verve of a psychotic ringmaster.
“Step right up! Step right up!” And they did. Addaxes, armadillos, aurochs, binturongs, bluebucks, bongos, camels, caribou, chinkaras, dholes, dik-diks, dodos (acquired on his return journey from Down Under, by all accounts a non-stop party), elephants, elks, emus (charmed by most of what he found on that far continent, by the time they reached Mauritius Tayus’ adoration had only increased for these flightless birds, and in an effort to give them some landbound company, the deal was sealed with the dodos), ferrets, flamingos, foxes, gazelles, geckos, gnus, hamsters, hedgehogs, hirolas, iguanas, impalas – Tayus really had a thing for the antelope family, a predilection that did not go unnoticed or uncommented upon by other species who looked like they might get left behind – inchworms, jabirus, jackalopes (and again gossip abounded that in order to shoehorn in his favorite hares as well as further varieties of antelope, Tayus constructed these creatures himself using a primitive staple gun), jaguars, kangaroos, koalas (of course), kudus, lechwes, llamas, lynx, macaws, markhors, muntjacs, newts, nightingales, nyalas, okapis, oryxes, and despite the worry they’d slip into the waters unaware of the magnitude of the situation – otters. Peacocks, platypuses – same fears as over the otters, half-wishing he hadn’t been so seduced by everything Australia had to offer – pukus, quagga, quetzal, quokka, raccoons, ravens (though the pressed-for-time Tayus didn’t concern himself much with the specifics of Noah’s guestlist, in this instance he was directly biting Noah’s style), rhinos, sambars, servals, springboks… It took Tayus a while to understand why he couldn’t provide passage to a pterodactyl, finally grasping the concept when informed ‘the p is silent, like in swimming’, a jovial phrase bandied about even back then, here acquiring a darker significance when you consider what loomed on the horizon. But there were takins, tigers, and topis (oh my) – his shipmates having pleaded with him to leave the termites behind – umbrellabirds, unaus, urials, and, uncertain as to how long they’d be at sea, Tayus was hoping to genetically breed a unicorn from his vast supply of antelopes, though this was not without pangs to his soul as he loved them dearly as they were… Vangas, vicuñas, voles, wallabies & wombats (he just couldn’t say no), and after some hesitation due to the name – woodchucks, Tayus’ family weighing in once again to ban woodpeckers, wood lice, and wrynecks. The cluster of possibly passed-over creatures that assumed there were no X’s in the animal kingdom and thus forged fake identities to try and fool the petty officer of the watch were usurped by xemas, xenops, and xoloitzcuintles swooping and scurrying up the gangplank, followed by yaks, yellowhammers, and even a yeti, though rumor has it this was Heracles, Tayus’ incredibly hirsute cousin, not even in disguise, simply as he was. The parade rounded out by zebras, zeren, and zorillas.
Arguments over who got the top bunk were just the beginning of Tayus’ troubles. For as the waters began to rise, the crew were already sick of cantaloupe, the sole provision Tayus had packed in the ship’s vast larder. Scurvy be damned, man, woman, beast, and fowl each craved a change of flavor, and Tayus had his hands full stopping them from incorporating the melons into the on-deck recreation. This too was tedious, for there’s only so much shuffleboard one can play, especially with elephants and jaguars blocking the way, not to mention mischievous marmots constantly stealing the discs mid-slide. The entertainment in the lounges was just as bleak. Brother Ulnas’ family thought their 12-year-old Barker was going to be the next big thing in stand-up comedy, thrusting him onto any available stage despite lukewarm audience reception as Barker was distinctly unfunny, the knock-knock jokes not landing well, and a reminder that their vessel had been built without doors to save on timber costs. The lack of privacy had everyone on edge as much as the daily menu. And then there were the tone-deaf twins, Tragus and Eustachia, again beloved by their parents and siblings who insisted on them performing matinees, pre-dinner recitals, early evening extravaganzas, and double late-night shows, thrice on Sundays. After a week, beast and man alike could not hold back in expressing their disdain, depleting a good amount of the food reserves in the process. The animosity was pervasive, and soon you couldn’t stroll along the promenade without catching the evil eye off an elk or head to the spa without a withering remark from a gnu.
Having nowhere else to go, the battleground moved upwards to the only space left where hitherto one could escape it all – the crow’s nest. And that name was now hotly contested by every mammal, bird, and reptile, even the myriad breeds of antelope who couldn’t climb the pole to lay claim to the post. But at the other end of the ship was where the true problems were to be found. For while he reluctantly listened to kith and kin about the termites, Tayus couldn’t resist sneaking four wood-boring beetles on board, having heard from the same itinerant boxer that they produced harmonies so lovely as to rival the song of the nightingale. As opposed to the culinary world, when it came to show biz he did know the power of variety, storing the stowaways in a golden tube below the water line until it was time to change the Octopus Theater’s featured act. As the twins grew more unbearable, Tayus decided to push this forward. But creeping down to the cargo hold, he noticed a number of worrying leaks in the hull. Clueless as to how to set about fixing a hole, he raced helter-skelter for the crow’s nest himself, intent on signaling for help. Up he climbed, over the battling binturongs, fleet-footed foxes, leaping lechwes – whom he regretted not having a minute to stop and pet – onslaught of otters, savage servals, and the vanquishing vangas who appeared to be on the verge of victory, until he beheld the hedgehogs who occupied the uppermost tier, fending off an array of adversaries with their spikes. Tayus had no time for the politics of it all, instead waving his every appendage about wildly in the wind, which of course many say is all politics really is.
By this point, however, the waves were rampant, and the chances of coming across another ark infinitesimal, if indeed any were out there besides Noah’s. Shouting to the throng below, Tayus ordered a temporary truce in order to summon the avians to the top. Tearing his fantastically gauche coat, he gave scraps to each jabiru, macaw, nightingale, quetzal, raven, vanga, xema, xenops, and yellowhammer, praying this would be enough for Noah to recognize his distress. Tayus secretly believed the color clash with the flamingos’ feathers might prove as strong as a flare. Though in distress themselves after being asked to touch such a thing, the peacocks outright refused to even come near the gawdy piece of fabric and went to join the umbrellabirds dozing on the Sun Deck. The emus and dodos, true to their name, remained oblivious as to what was going on above, engaged in afternoon pub trivia at which they had yet to answer a single question correctly. Made up for by the otters and platypuses joining in the cause, diving overboard with relish. Emotional at the group effort, Tayus rechristened the crow’s nest the Avian & Aquatic Rescue Coalition – AARC for short – Bucket. And there he waited, for hope on the horizon.
Miracles might’ve been more common back then, but Tayus was no less elated when he saw familiar figures racing in the distance. A yellow and black attack accompanied by sweet songs of praise from their brethren congregated at the railing. Swooping in just ahead of the hammers and ravens, however, a sole xema landed to present Tayus with a parchment of staid color scheme whereupon was written the ancient equivalent of ‘hang tight’. The rest of the returning entourage soon joined in the festivities, safe in the knowledge help was on its way. All except the ravens, that is, who swore they’d have their revenge.
Although the tale was deemed an embarrassment unworthy of inclusion in the official records, the story goes that Noah arrived and promptly plugged the hole, bringing quite a few other violations up to code as well. While Tayus longed for the reunion to last, Noah had to nip in the bud any talk of taking on the entire crew of a second boat, insisting the load would be too heavy. He emphasized his point by nodding towards the females of the species on his own craft, every one of whom sported a bulging stomach. Tayus was perplexed. Had the stork brought other news to Noah’s ark besides his SOS? Noah in turn wrinkled his own brow when he observed the manner in which his friend’s cargo behaved with one another. ‘Typical Tayus’, he thought. But calmly explained, ‘Why do you think I brought on two animals from each species if not to propagate the Earth when these waters subside?’ Tayus shrugged. A reason had never occurred to him before. Recognizing the judgement in Noah’s eyes, Tayus began to regret not bringing a barrelful of primates along – after all, it’s right there in the name and would’ve gone over better than Barker – though back on shore he had felt mighty uncomfortable interrupting their robust amorous activities to see if they wanted to join him on this exciting and new adventure.
They say pets resemble their owners, and in antediluvian times this was no different. It wasn’t intentional, but the beasts Tayus chose excited nothing in their counterparts beyond the possibility of friendship. At the pheromones level they put the ‘aroma’ in ‘aromantic’. Once the issue of the AARC Bucket was resolved, the creatures all got along fine. They just weren’t up for any double-backed horseplay. The same was true for the humans on board. Away from the stage, Tayus’ family kept to themselves, and the rest of his passengers’ behavior was far from what we’d see on a singles cruise today. Instead small groups preferred to sit chastely beneath the nightingales, the females in the crowd listening with great patience as the males expounded upon the tonal qualities of each strain and its place in the history of birdsong. Others gathered at dusk to watch impromptu improbable skits about a woman named Rachel and five of her chums who ran a noodle house called Misopotamia. The stage sets and bill of fare were again inspired by tales gleaned from the itinerant boxer, but the locale conjured up a deep nostalgia in actors and audience alike.
When Tayus’ vessel finally landed, somewhere downwind of the rainbow, these former shipmates stayed in touch for a while, as one often does after an intense shared experience, occasionally getting together for barbeques and pool parties, though otherwise leading solitary lives. And certain historians will tell you that this is how acquaintanceship remained in the world.
Aug Stone is a writer, musician, & comedian. His novel The Ballad Of Buttery Cake Ass was one of Vulture’s Best Comedy Books Of 2023. His other books are Off-License To Kill, Nick Cave’s Bar, and Sporting Moustaches. Aug’s a Sagittarius Rising at 12 degrees, with Neptune sitting at 13 degrees Sag. That explains a lot.