One afternoon, while Noah was spending quality time with his family, God tapped him on the shoulder and asked for a favor.

“I’m displeased by the rampant spread of evil throughout the world, so I need you to build a hot air balloon.”

“YOU’RE displeased?” Noah replied with righteous indignation. “How d’ya think I feel? I’m the one living amongst the heathens. You’re sitting in a cushy office.”

“How was I supposed to know Satan would gather so many followers once he was banished from Heaven?”

“Why didn’t you just stick him in government subsidized housing in a far corner of Heaven? Out of sight, out of mind.”

“I’ve got the Satan situation under control,” God assured. “I’m gonna drown his ass. That’s why I need the hot air balloon.”

Distracted by the requested favor, Noah dismissed trying to understand the correlation between drowning and flying. He knew God often worked in mysterious, incomprehensible ways. Sometimes, He talked that way too. It was an explanation Noah would ask about at a later date.

As he considered his options, Noah fell silent. The favor felt like an offer he couldn’t refuse. He thought of the parable about someone who denied a similar request and woke up with a horse’s head in his bed. Noah wondered if he would wake up with two of them.

Although he had neither ridden in a hot air balloon nor built one, Noah was intrigued by the challenge. How hard could it be, he wondered. Uncertain what to do, the internal debate continued. Impatient, God looked at His wristwatch while tapping His foot, and pushed for a response.

“If you aren’t up for this, I’ll give the job to Moses,” God explained. “Compared to parting the Red Sea, this should be a cakewalk.”

“No, I’m honored that you thought of me to accomplish this task,” Noah replied. “How soon do you need it?”

“You have one hundred days to get it done.”

“A little advance notice would have been nice.”

“Well, that’s what I’ve given you,” God pointed out. “Very little advance notice.”

Noah protested at the time frame provided until God relented and extended the deadline to one hundred years.

Still worried, Noah asked, “What happens if I don’t get it done in time?”

“Then you’ll drown with everybody else.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Noah admitted.

“Lemme teach you a new word I’m adding to the dictionary this year. The word is delegate.”

Noah thought about all of his management training sessions. He now had the opportunity to put that education into a practical application. Sold on the proposal, he voiced one last concern.

“What happens if I delegate the work to my sons and they don’t get it done in time?”

“Again,” God reiterated, “they’ll be left behind. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll teach your boys how to swim.”

“In that case, I better select my least favorite son.”

Unable to decide who was expendable, Noah approached all three of his sons. He tasked the trio with the challenge of building a hot air balloon. Upon hearing the requested dimensions, middle son Shem erupted with outrage.

“He wants the basket how large? What are we transporting? An ark?”

“I dunno,” Noah replied. “He didn’t share the passenger manifest, but something tells me we should stock up on life preservers.”