Everyone was pretty amazed when God descended from the heavens adorned in fur-trimmed silk robes, slicked back hair and Versace sunglasses. He was the coolest guy ever. One hand would hold an expensive cigar while the other would conjure the greatest wonders.

He told us we had got it all wrong, and he was here to promote his sequel to the Bible. He called it “The Creation of the World, the Definitive Edition”. It was a sordid autobiography detailing how and why he created the world, his battle with smite addiction, and all the women he loved along the way.

The hype was at an all time high. He breezed into book signings in a Porsche surrounded by young models that he had just conjured into existence, and then dismissed from existence at the end of the night. Which was kind of a dick move when you think about it.

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Then people started reading the book. This universe was born because he couldn’t get girls in the one he happened to live in. He built our “simulation” out of a starter kit. All of his friends were doing it, and he didn’t want to be left out. He became obsessed with it, soon adding more and more to our world, invoking changes across time and space. He told stories about the many times he incarnated, just to “Spice things up”.

He told us about how he came close to wiping us out, but was glad he didn’t. We had all progressed so far, and he said he was extremely proud of us. because of us, he’d gotten a “High Score”. He told us how he brags about us on his social media channel. He showed us his most popular video, a “Let’s Play” of the Reign of Terror, complete with his commentary. I have to say, it was hilarious. There were sound effects and everything. You really had to be there.

I managed to corner him at his last book signing, where I finally got the chance to ask him a question, one that ha been plaguing theologians for millennia. I asked him why there was suffering in the world. He shrugged.

“It gets views and likes”.