Investing in an Ark

                            
A man wants me to invest in an ark with him. 

More to the point, he wants to build an ark and I will pay for it to be built: which means financing his wages and materials and anything else that comes up; like some housekeeping money for his wife.

Why I ask, not unreasonably I feel.

Because it may never stop raining, he says with patience. Animals can only swim around for so long and then they drown: whereas humans can sit on a roof for a long time: pending cessation of the downpour.

We, meaning he, will do  it and I will pay him to gather a pair of every animal there is to be found locally and bring them into the ark.

When all is dry once more we, that is he and I, will produce them like a magician producing many multicoloured rabbits from a hat and declare we have a monopoly on all the animals left on the earth and they are all ours, now.

This he seems to believe will lead to effective world domination by him, and me, in no time at all.

Which is a good thing, he says without saying why or spelling out which of us will arise first in the morning to do the ruling of the world.

He gives pause for thought when I point out that pairs of animals are like to mate and that if the rains last for a long time the new animals may very well take over the ark and decide to sail away to an  new Animaland across the sea, without us.

While he considers this possibility, the sun comes out and the rain stops.

He is terribly sad at this turn of events.

He goes home to explain to his wife that climate change has thwarted their ambition.

Once more.

I put my rain hat in my pocket and walk on.

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