Meet the Noahs. Act 2, Scene 3

This for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers.

 

“Dad, I’m starving.”

“Me too, Shem, me too.”

“Everyone’s complaining. Moan, moan, moan.”

“What’s your mum saying?”

“She’s really pissed off. Thinks it’s your fault. Says she should have been involved in the planning. Says that just because you’re a bloody Patriarch doesn’t mean you should behave like a bloody patriarch and she can’t stand it any more.”

“So she’s angry?”

“And hungry. She says if you’d had any sense you would have done the supermarket shopping before getting the animals on board.”

“Yeah, well. It’s too late now.”

“Slaughter an auroch?”

“Had better. Fetch the axe, will you?”