Too early for the dove
These are the final days
This is the flood
- Leonard Cohen, "The Gypsy´s Wife"
If you've heard this one before shut up and listen anyway, 'cause you're sure to have heard it wrong. Leastwise you haven't heard it my way and my way's best because that's how I choose to see things.
Well, before us Phuri folks were sanctified and consecrated as the packrats of the Rom, before that particular label was ever slapped on us by our supposedly labelless selves, there was a woman, a powerful drabarne, named Noahe.
Well, Noahe was a busy-body, a real nose-to-the-ground, tap-on-the-phone snooper. But Noahe also had the Sight, so she could really get off on some serious mind-tripping, time-hopping voyeurism.
So. One day while Noahe was out for a psychic jaunt up and down the threads of time, she found one whopper of a tangle. Pausing to consider what could cause such a jam, Noahe looked closer at the time trap. Still not able to see into its center, Noahe started picking at the tangle (ignoring her mother's advice about picking at strange time threads - you don't know when they've been!), but she couldn't figure it out. Then she got the bright idea to jump the jam and slide backwards toward the snarl. It was then she found a fellow traveler - a fishy, swimmy, floppy spirit - trapped among the threads, causing the twist-up.
Being a softy (and busting with curiosity), Noahe freed the scaly fellow, all the while wondering if perhaps this was merely the result of sniffing a mite too much mugwort. But before Noahe could check back into her body, the fish-fellow swallowed her whole. Gulp! Bummer.
But not really. For inside its time-trolling tummy was Knowledge; ribs of major league what's-what stuff, which Noahe eagerly devoured. (Too bad she didn't have her mother's tartar sauce!) Noahe gobbled down twenty-three ribs, but the final rib she left for later, since it look to be about distasters, and disasters gave Noahe indigestion.
Finding her way out the back door, Noahe slipped back into her very own home-body, taking the last rib with her.
Well, after old Noahe had digested the fish's fillet of soul, Noahe decided it was time for her medicine. Going back to her own head's back pantry and freezer, Noahe ate the final rib cold. Ugh! She discovered plans in the work to flush out every section of the universe to get rid of some of the excess human blockage. Not that Noahe minded a good world-scrubbing enema, but she'd prefer not to be among the jettisoned much and guck. So forewarned, Noahe gathered her family and her family's family together and told them all of her fishing trip. She also told them some of the many many things she had learned from her fillet, but that´s not this story. If you want that one you'll have to buy me a whole bottle, not just pass me one watered-down scotch.
Anyway. Once the rigmarole was rolled, the Rom got busy. They built a really big boat right there in the mountains and passed the word to other families and kumpaniyi, warning them to float or fly. Then they gathered up their pigs and cows and chickens and dogs and kids and what-not and piled into their party barge.
Weeks passed, gaje laughed, and then came the cosmic plumber. Whee!
To this day the gaje are still steamed about not getting the word of this little Earth scrubbing. So, of course, they lay claim to Noahe and give the flood to their great big daddy of a superego, and then they screw the story up even further. But what can you expect from a bunch of gaje?
-Teeuwynn
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