Sir Wrongalot found himself standing at the edge of a vast wooden structure that stretched higher than his usual attention span could comprehend. The gigantic boat before him had been painstakingly crafted, its beams polished to perfection, and adorned with animals peeking out from every nook and cranny.
"What in the name of soggy biscuits is this monstrosity?" Wrongalot muttered, craning his neck.
A man with a long beard and a no-nonsense expression strode down a ramp, carrying a clipboard made of wood. He wore a robe that screamed "practical yet holy," and his sandals clapped rhythmically on the planks.
"You there!" the man called. "You're standing dangerously close to the ark. Do you have an appointment?"
"An ark, you say?" Wrongalot squinted. "Oh, so this is one of those floating houses I've heard about. Very posh. I'm Sir Wrongalot, Knight of Questionable Decisions and Protector of Nothing in Particular." He bowed dramatically, his noodle sword flopping out of its sheath and smacking the ground.
"I'm Noah," the man said, eyeing the noodle sword with a mixture of confusion and judgment. "And this is my ark. Two of every animal, to survive the great flood."
"Two of every animal, you say?" Wrongalot said, scratching his helmet. "But why only two? Wouldn't three make for better parties?"
Noah sighed, clearly regretting engaging with this bizarre knight. "It's not about parties. It's about preserving life. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish loading the last pair of hedgehogs before the rain starts."
As Noah turned to leave, Wrongalot called after him. "Wait, wait! Surely you could use a knight of my caliber aboard this… uh, floaty thing?"
Noah paused. "Do you have any useful skills?"
"Well, I can swing a sword so badly that it hits things I'm not aiming for, and I once accidentally cooked a dragon egg while trying to make toast."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "Right. That's a hard no. Goodbye."
But just as he started walking away, a commotion erupted behind him. A pair of goats, clearly siblings, were headbutting each other in front of the gangway.
"Those goats!" Noah shouted, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "They've been brawling all morning. If they don't behave, they're staying behind!"
Wrongalot saw an opportunity to prove himself. "Fear not, good Noah! I shall mediate this dispute!"
The goats stopped mid-headbutt to stare at the knight.
"Listen, you two," Wrongalot began, crouching down to their level. "The world is about to get a very thorough bath, and you're lucky to have VIP tickets to the Ark Cruise. So, why not save the headbutting for the afterparty?"
The goats seemed unimpressed. One of them lunged, and Wrongalot toppled over, his armor clanking like a falling toolbox.
"Ah, I see," he said from the ground. "Sibling rivalry is a powerful beast."
Noah sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Maybe I should've brought three goats instead."
Wrongalot stood, dusting himself off. "Wait, Noah! I have a brilliant idea!"
Noah pinched the bridge of his nose. "This ought to be good."
Wrongalot reached into his satchel of random nonsense and pulled out… a ukulele. He strummed it with all the finesse of a tone-deaf bard.
"Goats of the ark, hear my plea,
Stop your fight, and just agree.
Rain is coming, the flood's no joke,
So stop headbutting, don't provoke!"
The goats stared at him, their expressions unreadable. For a moment, it seemed like the song had worked. Then, they turned and started headbutting him instead.
"Ah, progress!" Wrongalot said, as one of the goats butted him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling.
Noah, finally amused, shook his head and stepped in. With a commanding glare, he separated the goats and marched them onto the ark.
"Well done, Sir Wrongalot," Noah said dryly. "You've successfully turned their rage toward yourself. That's… something."
"It's what I do best," Wrongalot replied, lying flat on the ground.
Just then, the sky darkened, and the first raindrops began to fall. Noah looked up, his expression serious. "The flood is coming. It's time to go."
Wrongalot leaped to his feet, slipping slightly in the mud. "Wait! Surely you have room for one more noble soul aboard your ark?"
Noah hesitated. "Do you have a pair?"
"A pair of what?"
"A pair of you. I only take creatures in pairs."
"Well," Wrongalot said, scratching his helmet. "There's me and my goat!" He gestured to his trusty steed, who was currently trying to eat the ark's gangway.
Noah sighed deeply. "Fine. But if you cause trouble, you're swimming."
With that, Sir Wrongalot and his goat boarded the ark. As the rain intensified, Wrongalot stood proudly at the bow, his noodle sword raised high.
"This," he declared, "is the beginning of a great and soggy adventure!"
From somewhere in the ark, a donkey brayed in what could only be described as reluctant agreement.
PART 2 also i would like to point out this is not mesnt to offend anybody so lighten up and enjoy
Inside the ark, chaos reigned supreme. The animals were less of a harmonious choir and more of a cacophony of squawks, brays, roars, and hisses. Sir Wrongalot wandered through the crowded corridors, marveling at the sheer diversity of creatures.
"Two of every kind," he mused, stepping over a disgruntled porcupine. "This is like a medieval buffet, except none of it is cooked."
His goat, now wearing a makeshift captain's hat that Wrongalot had fashioned from a bucket, trotted beside him, chewing on a piece of rope that had clearly been important.
Wrongalot poked his head into what appeared to be a bird section. Parrots squawked insults, owls gave judgmental hoots, and a pair of flamingos were engaged in what looked like a high-stakes dance battle.
"This ark is a feathery madhouse," Wrongalot said, ducking as a toucan dive-bombed him. "I'll fit right in."
As he continued exploring, he stumbled into a larger chamber where Noah was trying to wrangle a pair of elephants into their designated pen. The massive creatures were having none of it, one of them stubbornly blocking the entrance while the other decided to lie down and take a nap.
"Noah!" Wrongalot called, waving. "Need some knightly assistance?"
Noah, sweat dripping from his brow, shot him a withering look. "Unless you've got a solution to elephant apathy, stay out of the way."
"I do have a solution!" Wrongalot said, pulling his noodle sword from its scabbard. He waved it theatrically at the elephants. "Behold! The Sword of Motivation!"
One of the elephants opened an eye, glanced at the floppy noodle, and promptly returned to its nap.
"Ah, tough crowd," Wrongalot muttered.
The goat bleated in apparent agreement and nudged Wrongalot toward a nearby barrel. Inside was an assortment of fruits, vegetables, and what appeared to be a few snacks Noah had squirreled away for himself.
"Bribery!" Wrongalot exclaimed, pulling out a banana. "The universal language!"
He waved the banana in front of the stubborn elephant, who immediately perked up. With surprising enthusiasm, the elephant snatched the banana and lumbered into the pen, dragging its sleepy companion along.
Noah stared, his mouth agape. "You solved it… with a banana?"
"I'm just as surprised as you are," Wrongalot admitted, tossing the peel over his shoulder, where it promptly landed on a passing meerkat.
As the rain intensified outside, Noah ushered Wrongalot to the upper deck. "Stay here and don't touch anything. We're about to set sail."
Wrongalot, naturally, interpreted "don't touch anything" as "explore everything."
He wandered into the steering room, where Noah's sons were busy preparing the ark for its maiden voyage. Wrongalot immediately began fiddling with the rudder, turning it left and right like a child playing with a toy.
"Stop that!" one of the sons shouted, swatting his hand away.
"Apologies," Wrongalot said, stepping back. "I just wanted to see how it worked. This is my first time aboard a boat, you see. Most of my adventures involve falling off cliffs or getting chased by angry villagers."
The son gave him a skeptical look. "How have you survived this long?"
"With sheer dumb luck and a noodle sword," Wrongalot replied proudly.
Suddenly, the ark lurched forward as the floodwaters lifted it from the ground. Wrongalot stumbled, grabbing onto a nearby mast for support.
"We're afloat!" he shouted. "This is exhilarating! I feel like a seafaring hero!"
"You're a passenger," Noah's voice called from below. "Stay out of trouble!"
Moments later, Wrongalot discovered the ark's dining hall, where the animals were being fed in an orderly—well, somewhat orderly—fashion. A pair of raccoons were trying to steal an entire basket of apples, while a giraffe was indignantly refusing to eat the leafy greens provided.
Wrongalot decided to help by distributing snacks from his satchel. Unfortunately, the first thing he pulled out was a jar of glitter, which he promptly spilled all over a zebra.
"Oh dear," he said, watching as the zebra sparkled in the dim light. "You're dazzling now! A true fashion icon!"
The zebra, however, seemed less than pleased and began stomping around, inadvertently causing a chain reaction of chaos. Animals screeched, squawked, and stampeded in every direction.
Noah appeared in the doorway, his face a mask of barely contained fury. "Wrongalot! What did you do?"
"I was spreading joy!" Wrongalot said defensively, holding up the now-empty jar of glitter. "And perhaps a bit of sparkle."
Noah pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be the longest forty days of my life."
As the ark sailed on, Wrongalot found himself enjoying the bizarre camaraderie of the animals, even if most of them tried to bite him at least once. He spent his days telling outlandish stories of his adventures to a captive audience of goats, parrots, and an unusually attentive llama.
One evening, as the rain poured relentlessly outside, Wrongalot climbed to the top deck and gazed out at the endless expanse of water. His goat joined him, standing stoically by his side.
"Goat," he said, patting its head. "We've survived dragons, castles, and headbutting siblings. Now we're on the greatest adventure of all—a floating zoo in the middle of a divine storm. Life is truly absurd."
The goat bleated softly, its bucket-hat slightly askew.
"And that's why I love it," Wrongalot added, raising his noodle sword to the sky. "Here's to chaos, rain, and questionable decisions!"
From somewhere below, Noah's voice echoed: "Get off the deck before you fall overboard!"
Wrongalot grinned. "Ah, the sweet sound of camaraderie."
To be continued… if Wrongalot doesn't accidentally sink the ark.
sorry i think i forgot to post this