Some of your people you have made are not obeying your commands. You make the earth shake and frogs to rain from the sky to break on the ground and still they give up no virgin for sacrifice.
You are an angry god now. You visit the first of up to seven plagues down on these simple people. A virus flu that kills off twenty percent of them and leaves the survivors scarred for like from the nasty flesh boils that result. Trouble is, the virus has somehow infected you. You spend a day in bed vomiting into a bucket while pus filled bumps swell and burst all over your body. This is only cool when it happens to others, dammit.