In the beginning, I created the apartment and the lease. Then I said, “Let there be tenant”; and there was tenant. And I saw the tenant and that she had sufficient pay stubs and no criminal record, which was good. For I am the landlord your God, and wish not to reveal my wrath upon our first meeting.

Then I said, “Let there be skylight”; and there was skylight. For it gave the apartment a majestic view of the sun and the stars, which I created too, because, lest you forget, I am the landlord your God, sovereign over all things real estate.

Then I said, “Let there be furnishing.” For the tenant was created in my image and my image alone. Let there be a kitchen backsplash, goblet drapery, TV (with built-in Roku), and a mustard-colored sectional. And it was so. For toiling in the name of home improvement is very good.

And thus, I said to the tenant: “Behold your new palace. I have led you into the land of milk and honey. Eat grapes off my landlord vine. Be fruitful and multiply on your bed fit for a queen!”

But it was not so. For the tenant denied my spoils, sending grievances about the stucco walls having cracks, carping about broken appliance this, gaudy mustard-colored sectional that, blah blah blah.

And the earth shook and trembled because I was so angry. For the landlord your God is a jealous God who exacts vengeance on his tenant adversaries.

But then I thought, “I am the landlord your God; very compassionate, slow to anger, and abounding with love of real estate. Perhaps I should extend an olive branch and see whether the tenant would engage in some fellowship? For I have created infinite Sour Patch Kids and the latest Zelda game on Nintendo Switch.”

But no. My benevolent offer was spurned. And thus, I furiously commanded, “Let the earth bring forth a plague of rats and cockroaches, and let them have dominion over the tenant, lest she forget my almighty power”; and there were so many pests, and it was good. It was very good.

Thus, my tenant begged for mercy. Sobbed like a little newborn. Threatened to take me to the highest court in the land. Something called the “supreme court.” And I said, “Did thou suffer brain injury? For I am the landlord your God, purveyor of justice, lawgiver, and king. Only I can judge the righteous and the wicked.”

Then I considered smiting the tenant right then and there. But, alas, I exercised forbearance. For I am a super-forgiving God who bears no grudges and invariably welcomes the tenant with open arms. And thus, I commanded, “Let the infestation cease, and let my tenant repose on my totally not ugly mustard-colored sectional in peace.”

And on the seventh day, I rested. For all my work had been done. But, alas, a loud noise awakened me from my slumber. When I alighted from my cloud, music and gaiety was abound, undoubtedly the tenant having very loud fellowship without me.

Guests quivered in fear upon my arrival, setting down their wine goblets and Miller High Life. For the landlord your God exudes so much divinity it could kill a small horse. And yet, the tenant failed to bow down before me. She just stood there imbibing her American lager, better known as the “champagne of beers.”

My hands were proverbially tied. The tenant hath violated my statute codified in stone, which clearly stated: “No noise unless to worship the landlord your God.” For I’m only familiar with the entire universe revolving around me.

And thus, I was full of fire and brimstone. And I said to the tenant, “Thou shall not make music nor noise with your instrument! For lest you forget, I own this property and dwell on the top floor with compassion.” To which you could hear a pin drop, all the way to the foothills.

I had no option but to evict the tenant and her followers from my land. Nor would I even deign her very disgusting plea to recoup her security deposit back in full. For upon further inspection, there were actually several cracks in the stucco wall and broken appliances everywhere.

Alas, it is very thankless work to be the landlord your God. For I moved mountains and stars to see the tenant. To draft the lease. To furnish the apartment and charge a very fair rental sum of only four times the going rate. And it was good. It was so good. Until I was betrayed by my most evil tenant.