The petulant deity was perched high atop her Cirrocumulus throne, unamused at what she saw below. The worlds she created displeased her and she could no longer suffer their sacrilege.

“Why won’t they worship me?” she wondered, taking note that these bipedal creatures were not without their religious bonds. “They bow to statues and false prophets and practically anyone with a cartoonishly absurd theology. I literally breathe life into them and… nothing!”

It was time to start over, the disenchanted goddess summarily decided. Mercy and forgiveness were not part of her divine arsenal.

“I shall send a great flood and cleanse the land of these putrid ingrates,” she declared to an audience of only herself. “The next batch will surely love and fawn all over me.”

And with the wave of her paw, the skies opened and a tremendous deluge overpowered the earth. The wretched bipeds never stood a chance.

The next round of creation offered promise, but proved to have similar failings. The creatures to whom she granted intelligence and free will once again took it upon themselves to pay spiritual homage to any would-be tutelary but her. Aside from one brief period in Egypt where her likeness was revered, her astral presence was largely ignored.

“I shall rain fire and brimstone down upon them,” she vengefully declared, as she summoned thousands of flaming asteroids from the heavens. The terrified humans cried out for mercy, but none of their prayers were answered. How could they be? They weren’t directed toward the deity with any say in the matter.

The third round of creation was even more fruitless, as an attempt to tweak the recipe was, at best, a flawed experiment. As it turns out, greater free will and lower intelligence is not a good mix. A series of devastating plagues were then sent to begin the process anew.

And once again, the process faltered.

And so it was that, attempt after futile attempt, Maddy, the omnipotent creator of all existence, toiled in celestial obscurity. With every inquisition and occupation, every famine and firestorm, every remorseless conquest and radical change in climate, she failed to earn the love she so desperately desired.

As centuries passed, and the goddess lost interest in her earthly contrivances, humanity continued to indulge in free will while surrendering mental acuity at an alarming rate. She might’ve closed up shop altogether, were it not for a chance encounter with a tall, lumbering human during one of her all-too-infrequent trips to Earth. This obtuse, self-absorbed biped had what could only be described as “an unorthodox hobby.”

“Hold still, little kitty cat,” the human muttered as he swiftly snapped a surprise selfie with his incognito creator. “Cool! This is going up on the Insta right now!”

Maddy was bemused as the human rapidly shared the photo, impressively using nothing but his highly coveted opposable thumbs.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, curiously.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the human replied. “It’s just this thing I do. I take pictures with cats and I post ‘em online. You don’t mind, do ya? I get lots’a followers that way.”

“What do you mean ‘followers?’”

“On social media, man. Some people post pictures of food, others post, like, their workout routines. This one famous chick got butt implants and now has like, 160-million followers. But, for me, I find cats get the most likes.”

Then he said those long sought-after magic words.

“You should try it. With that face everybody’d worship you.”

In the beginning, Maddy created the heavens and the earth. And it was good. More recently, she created social media profiles and online personas, forgoing her previous vengeful ways. And it was great! Almost immediately, her selfies and random musings brought in more than 400-million adoring followers; the reverence that had eluded her for several millennia she earned in just her first six days of posting.

And on the seventh day, she rested — but only briefly.  Afterall, those Tik Toks aren’t gonna post themselves.