If my memory of childhood Bible school serves me correctly, Jonah was in the whale for three days and three nights. It's been way longer than that for me. Worse than the darkness and the digestive fluid and the pulsing of the walls is the feeling that I'm getting that no one really misses me. No one even made much of a fuss when, as I was lying on the beach minding my own business, this huge fish leaps out of the water, casting a shadow on the whole beach, and then devours me like a starving man at McDonald's and leaves. Why is no one trying to find me?
I don't look that bad in a bathing suit, do I?