# With tired eyes, Noah watched the sky as the first drops began to fall. Forty days and forty nights, he thought. Forty days in which he would have to trust that wood, animals, and nerves would hold together. All the animals were aboard. Surprisingly peaceful with one another, and every hatch was sealed. Except for this one. “Excuse me?” a tiny voice piped up behind him. Noah sighed. He knew immediately who it was. Rolling his eyes, he turned around slowly. With tremendous effort, he looked down at the Chatterlings. Small, furry — and apparently created by the Lord for the sole purpose of testing mankind through relentless conversation. Truly, the ways of the Lord were mysterious. “We would like to speak to the complaints department of this cruise once again, wouldn’t we, darling?” “Oh, absolutely, sweetheart.” Noah forced a smile that looked more like a severe toothache. “This is not a cruise. It is the apocalypse.” “Even so, one should be able to expect a certain standard, wouldn’t you agree, darling?” “Oh, certainly, sweetheart.” Noah swallowed his anger like a spoonful of molten iron. “And what is the problem this time?” Mrs. Chatterling stepped forward. “The check-in process took hours — and then there wasn’t even an aperitif! I believe we already mentioned that, didn’t we, darling?” “Yes, sweetheart. We were left high and dry while staying dry.” “The whole point is for us to stay dry!” Noah growled. “Yes, but it lacks atmosphere, don’t you think? And we already mentioned the issue of not having a private cabin, didn’t we, darling?” “Yes, sweetheart. The matter was raised previously, but no improvements have been made.” “Sanitary facilities? Catastrophic.” “If they exist at all, sweetheart.” “And then there’s the buffet. It is all terribly plain. Frankly, it feels rather vegan-heavy, wouldn’t you say, darling?” “Oh yes, sweetheart. It lacks substance.” Noah rubbed the bridge of his nose. The familiar headache was returning — as it always did whenever the Chatterlings appeared. He had tamed predators, managed an entire floating zoo, and built the Ark according to divine specifications — but this was too much. “THIS IS THE END OF THE WORLD!” Noah thundered. “You have food. That is enough. We are not going to starve, and considering the circumstances, everyone here should be grateful for what they have.” Outside, rain hammered against the Ark while the scent of wet earth drifted through the open hatch. “Well, emergency rations might have been preferable, wouldn’t they, darling?” “Oh yes, sweetheart. Though I imagine those would normally be stored in the lifeboats — which, incidentally, also appear to be missing. A rather alarming safety violation, I would say.” “You’re absolutely right, darling. Who designs a ship this large without toilets and lifeboats?” That was the final thread of Noah’s patience snapping. “OH, FOR THE LOVE OF— YOU UNGRATEFUL CREATURES!” His face burned red with fury. In one swift movement, he grabbed both Chatterlings by the collars and hurled them straight out through the hatch. Still seething, he turned toward the other animals. “DOES ANYONE ELSE HAVE A COMPLAINT?!” His roar rolled through the Ark. The proud lions instantly pretended to be asleep. The elephants nervously sniffed at their hay. Not a single creature moved. Outside, from somewhere along the hull, came a faint knocking. “Hello?! What do you think you’re doing?! One simply does not treat guests this way, would you agree, darling?” “No, this is completely unacceptable. An absolute scandal, sweetheart.” Noah ignored them. He turned back to the other animals. “Oh, and just in case anyone asks someday: you have never heard of Chatterlings. Understood?” Dead silence. Noah nodded. That was good enough. Slowly, he stepped toward the hatch and looked out into the rain, which now poured from the heavens in endless sheets. Then he murmured: “Perhaps it really is a beautiful day for the apocalypse.” And firmly closed the hatch.