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the way for Chinese food. Soon they were all gathered in Jim’s living room feasting on at least seven different kinds.
    The day had been relatively quiet for a Tuesday and Jim was glad to be able to relax a bit during Gene’s visit. Lou brought Gene up to date with a dozen jokes about born-again Christians and Gene countered with some appalling anti-Irish jokes that he told badly.
    “Glad to see nothing’s changed since we last ...”
    “Not a thing,” said Lou, with a grin. “Same old bunch of loonies with a few more gray hairs.”
    As the evening wore on with more than a few beers consumed, Lou produced a reefer “for old time’s sake,”
    “Jeez, Lou,” said Kas, “suppose Stephie walks in?”
    “I guess we’d have to be polite and offer her some,” said Lou.
    “You piece of shit, Lou,” hissed Kas, “I’d skin your ...”
    “You’d have to catch me first,” said Lou with a giggle, lighting up.
    “Come on, Lou. Not in the living room,” said Jim. “It’ll stink up the place. Stephie’s friends, you know.”
    Lou snuffed the joint with two spit soaked fingers and stashed it into his pocket with an annoyed grunt.
    Jim ignored Lou. “So what’s this about the ark,” he asked Gene.
    Lou groaned ominously. Then there was silence. It lingered too long. Sensing a serious conversation, Kas got up and said, “I have some grapes I have to press,” and left the room.
    “There you go again,” said Lou to Jim, mimicking the voice of Ronald Reagan.
    Jim sat drop-jawed as he watched Kas leave the room. “But ...”
    Lou threw an empty beer can at Jim. “She won’t tell ya,” he began. “I will.”
    “What?”
    “You’re obsessed with that Ark thing, Jim,” said Lou in the voice of Spock.
    “Go smoke your joint,” said Jim. “You know where the back yard is.”
    “Right,” said Lou.
    Gene held up his hand, interrupting them. “May I?”
    “Go for it,” said Jim, folding his arms defensively and leaning back to listen.
    “I want to try to build the ark,” said Gene. “I have a guy who wants to back it.”
    “You’re shitting me!” roared Lou.
    A feminine protest arose from the back of the house. “Keep your voices down if you’re going to talk smut!”
    “Jesus, what a shrew,” said Lou.
    Jim glared at Lou, then he looked back at Gene and smiled. “You’re joking, of course.”
    Gene looked deadly serious. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans, you know, the ones you drew. I wondered if you still had them, and if you’d thought about it over the years.”
    “From time to time, sure. In fact, I just dug them out.”
    “Well, for me it never went away,” said Gene. “Not ever. Recently I’ve been talking to a lawyer friend and he told me about a project he’s going to start. He wants to rebuild the ark as a research project. Maybe a documentary. He has money but the film rights might help with the cost.”
    “Give me a break,” said Jim. “We talked about this long ago, Gene, and you decided that there wasn’t enough information available to do it right. That the big question mark, as I recall, was the configuration of the cherubim. Besides, you said it gave you the creeps.”
    “That was then, Jim,” said Gene, “but I think I’ve figured out how the thing worked.”
    Lou held up his hand. “Okay, okay,” he protested. “Is this going to be a tech talk?”
    Jim smiled but ignored Lou. “So why do you suddenly want to build the ark after twenty years?”
    “Damned fair question,” answered Lou with a macho swing of his fist.
    “It tasks me,” said Gene. “I couldn’t let it go. I still have copies of your drawings.”
    “Your timing is amazing,” said Jim. “Stephie and I were cleaning the studio a day or so ago and came across the sketches of the ark. Almost threw them out. I have them over there in my studio room. Then along comes Dan and he ...”
    “Dan?” asked Gene.
    Lou’s eyebrows lowered as he stoically sipped a beer and listened to