"Why don't you take the first watch,' he said, 'I feel tired and need a nap."

What the heck, I’m not a dog—how is it that he falls straight back to sleep the moment he wakes up?

"In your next life, things will be better," said the man on the cloud, roaring with laughter. "Sorry, cat—only dogs go to heaven. In this new era, you’re no longer sacred. That was back when Cleopatra ruled, and as you know, I can’t stand women."

Thunder rumbled in the sky. Thor, the Germanic god who stood as a witness, had had enough of the modern god’s pathetic jokes, dismissing everything as a mere chuckle. Lightning followed—thunder, storms, sacred groves and trees became visible. The strength of the god, the protector of humankind, was at its limit.

"Let’s make a fresh start," he bellowed through the vault of heaven. "Pathetic woke figure, it’s time you open your eyes."

Of course, it poured relentlessly, and that failed Cupid, who has no place in this era, just slept on. The waters rose—another bloody flood. Let’s hope it doesn’t start freezing. He clearly hadn’t shut the door properly, as it swung open and the water rushed in. The furniture floated outside, and the gentleman kept sleeping, undisturbed. Isn’t it outrageous that I have to babysit him?

"Devil, do your best!" a voice shouted.

A wooden chair crashes into the bed and spins in the current. The world is in chaos. Trees uprooted, roofs disappearing beneath the waves, and yet he sleeps. I swear, if an absurd duty didn't bind me, I would have left him long ago.

'You'd think he'd notice the water," I meowed, balancing on the edge of the bed. "But no – just another dream about cookies, pelicans, apples, bottles and pots of paint in all sorts of colours or whatever nonsense is going on in that head."

The voice from earlier chuckled. "They're all the same. Give them comfort, and they ignore the burning world."

"Comfort," I hissed. "Soon we will be on the open sea! Thor help!"

"And whose fault is that?" the voice sneered. "You should have kept him awake."

"I tried! He's impossible, and so are you, braggart!"

A particularly violent wave crashed over the bed. He turned over, muttered something like "five more minutes" and immediately started snoring again. Unbelievable.
Meanwhile, Thor's storm seemed unstoppable. In fact, it was getting worse. The clouds were like black sheep, and the wind howled like the pack of wolves of the neighbours. The modern god, still lying on his cloud, yawned. "A bit dramatic, huh?'

Thor's roar shook the sky. "Dramatic? You've let the world end with your indifference!"

"Oh, take it easy. They'll sort it out."

"Like last time? With the flood?"

The modern god waved a hand. "Details, details."

"Useless," I meowed.

"Devil, do your best," a voice called. "Forget it—I’ll climb onto the edge of the bed, and once land’s in sight, I’m gone, whether he’s asleep or awake. I’ve tried everything to wake him—even bit him—and all he does is smile like an idiot. Moran! How has humanity come this far if they can’t even think straight?...”

_{5.5.25
Painting: The Inundation of The Biesbosch 1421 (1856) - public domain
The Biesbosch is the largest National Park in the Netherlands and one of the last extensive areas of freshwater tidal wetlands in Northwestern Europe
Painter: Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema - Dutch
Art & Writing is hosted by @solperez
@almaguer}