Title: Trump and Noah’s Ark: The Art of the Flood Deal
The rain hammered down, and Noah stood by the ark, ticking off pairs of animals as they boarded. A tremendous commotion broke out at the bottom of the gangplank.
It was Donald Trump, drenched but impeccably coiffed, waving dramatically.
“Noah! Noah! Tremendous job on the ark. Really tremendous. But listen, you need me onboard. I bring a lot to the table. Ask anyone. Best negotiator in the world.”
Noah sighed. “Donald, it’s two of every kind. Are you part of a pair?”
Trump gestured at his own reflection in a puddle. “Of course! Me and this handsome devil right here. Perfect pair. But let’s talk logistics—you’ve got elephants, giraffes, and whatever those things are—llamas? Terrible choices. Where are the golden retrievers? The bald eagles? The iconic animals?”
Trump scoffed. “Okay, great. But I think God could use some consulting. Some of these animals are losers. Sloths? What do they even do? And mosquitoes? Total disaster. Let’s replace them with tigers. Tigers are winners. And what about unicorns? People love unicorns. Very marketable.”
Noah frowned. “Unicorns didn’t make it.”
“Fake news,” Trump retorted. “I saw a unicorn once. Beautiful creature. Tremendous horn. Believe me.”
“Noah, this ark... It’s nice, but it’s not great. It’s just wood. Why not gold? A golden ark would be stunning, luxurious, something people would remember for centuries.”
“Donald,” Noah said, “the ark is for survival, not aesthetics.”
“Survival and branding,” Trump corrected. “You’re building history here. Slap my name on the side: Trump Ark™. No charge—except maybe a little space for my penthouse deck.”
“Listen, Noah. I’m a team player. I’ll bring the best ideas, the best animals. I’ve got a connection—two Komodo dragons waiting just over there. Very classy reptiles. And I’ll be the guy who makes this voyage fun. You think these zebras are entertaining? No way.”
A booming voice interrupted.
“Donald,” God said, “you’re not on the list.”
Trump spun around. “God! Great to hear from you. But listen, your list—it’s outdated. I should definitely be on it. I’m the best flood survivor there is. You’re gonna need me when this is over.”
“No,” God replied simply.
Trump sighed dramatically, muttering, “Another rigged system.”
As Noah pulled up the gangplank, Trump stood in the rising water, still shouting.
“Big mistake, Noah! Huge! You’ll miss me when you’re stuck with those slow sloths. And just wait—when this flood is over, I’m gonna build an even bigger ark. Tremendous ark! Nobody arks better than me!”
And so, as the ark floated away, Trump treaded water, still making deals with the fishes.
