A: First the rains come. Then the sinners and evildoers, murders and pimps, rapists and whores get washed away.
Then the loose sediment.
Then the trees and the shrubs, the cars and the buses, the beasts that walk on land, the serpents and the trash cans.
The water destroys everything above the ground, drowns all who cannot swim.
Eventually, the water eats away at the buildings and the bridges, the homes and the towers. Everything built by man gets wiped out.
All that remains are the birds in the sky, and the fish in the sea.
And, of course, the mermen. And the mermaids.
People used to laugh when I began to have sex with fish. They thought my plan to create a race of men-fish hybrids, to rule the post-flood world, was absurd.
I don't hear anyone laughing now.
Oh.
The rain stopped.
That wasn't even an inch.
And I hear them laughing again.