"The Lost Diary of Noah" joke

425 b.c. Day One
Dear Diary,
First day at sea. Whew! Just made it under the wire. The animals seem
happy, but the lions and tigers are beginning to become restless, and it
was a bad idea to put the rhinos, hippos and elephants on the starboard
side, and the birds, insects, gerbils and hamsters port. Took some work to
"straighten" that one out, har har. Too tired to talk to God tonight. (Get
Him started about the furies of His judgement, and He just goes on and
on...) So, off to bed...
425 b.c. Day Three
Dear Diary,
Rain has stopped, finally, and there's not a whole lot of land left to
see. Saw a whole village's worth of people, all tied together in a pitiful
attempt to save their own lives through common struggle. Sure glad I read
those books about building my own shelter and surviving the Apocalypse; now
if I can figure out what "canned rations" and "ferroconcrete bunkers" mean,
I'll be in business.
Shem lost his left hand to one of the lions yesterday. God provided
food, all right: a thick, mealy white powder that you could almost eat if
you added a little salt water. The budgies didn't like it, though, and the
koala bears kept yelping for fresh eucalyptus leaves.
425 b.c. Day Seven
Dear Diary,
Time to sweep the decks. No time to write.
425 b.c. Day Seventeen
Dear Diary,
God decided to "help" by giving my the power to understand the
animals' speech. Imagine over fifteen thousand married couples, forced to
live in cramped and confined conditions, squabbling over how much yummy
white powder mixed with sea water they get to have. They also whine about
how good they used to have it, on the green earth, eating trees and nuts
and berries and each other. Can't sleep at night.
425 b.c. Day Twenty-Two
Dear Diary,
Got so sick of white powder that we skinned and ate the unicorns. This
caused quite a ruckus in the equestrian section, and morale among the cows
and chickens has sunk to a new low. God has helped the situation somewhat
by confusing the thoughts of the higher primates, thus keeping them from
undoing the knots on their cages. Only problem is that they know they're
being kept from thinking, and all I hear are anguished cries of "What are
they doing to us?" Meat was stringy anyway, and tasted like sandal
thongs.
425 b.c., Day Thirty
Dear Diary,
Can't sleep. Can't eat. Quelled mutiny by executing the centaurs as an
example. Oldest son has developed strange religious beliefs based upon the
frustrated mating cycles of our hyenas. Sight of humpbacked whale off port
bow excited animals into thinking that God had sent it to destroy me and my
family. Daughters are tempting me with their wicked ways. The night has a
thousand phantoms that torment my soul.
425 b.c., Day Thirty-Eight
Dear Diary,
I can't be-LEEVE what happened today. You know Bobby Forester, that
rilly cute guy in chemistry class? Get this: he walkd over to where Sondra
and I were talking, and he asked me out to the new James Dean movie with
him! God, can you be-LEEVE it? Sondra was _mortified_! (And I know she digs
guys with motorcycles, like, you know she went to see "Wild One" something
like twenty jillion times? She's gonna grow up to be a skag, doncha
know...) So now she's mad a me, but I gotta get some new crinolines
because my old ones got chocolate syrup poured on them last week at the
drive-in, so....
425 b.c. Day Thirty-Nine
Dear Diary,
Becoming steadily less connected with day-to-day matters. Read
yesterday's entry, thought someone else had written it. Had vision of
strange birds. Have forgotten what land looks like. See no hope; God has
forsaken me. Tomorrow I shall go into the hold and begin putting the
animals out of their misery, and ending this charade once and for all. I
shall begin with the gryphons and dragons.