"my son, welcome." "wait. where am I?" "you're dead." "and you're god?" "yes." "really?" "yes" "really?!" "yes! I'm god." "but you're wearing the robes and everything. don't you think that's a little hacky?" "no. It's what i've always worn." "so, you're really a dude who lives on a cloud ...in robes ...with a long beard?" "you're looking at it." "why am I here?" "well, everyone gets to meet me before they go down to hell." "i'm going to hell?" "yeah. almost everyone does." "why?" "because you're an asshole." "why am i an asshole?" "you didn't believe in me." "but i was nice to people. doesn't that count?" "no. you had to be nice and believe in me." "but you made yourself seem pretty unlikely." "yeah, that's the ass-kicker. pretty wild, right?" "i guess. i mean it's just hard to believe you were sitting up here the whole time not doing anything ...you're real? this isn't a dream?" "totally not a dream. you're talking to god." "damnit. i feel like if this was a dream it would be a nightmare." "are you saying i'm ugly?" "no. no, i was just hoping if there was a god that there would be a better explanation for everything. not just a needy, vengeful dude who sits in the sky, swarms people with locusts, tells them to kill their kids..." "have you ever tasted power? it's amazing." "and you just let children die all the time?" "as long as they're praying to me while they're dying, they get to come hang out." "and what?" "eh, we play harps. the occasional flag football game. it's pretty sick." "are they fun? your followers - do you enjoy them?" "oh god no. they're the pits. but i can't change the rules now." "that almost makes this all seem ok. that you're stuck around babies and assholes all the time." "well, enjoy hell." "you too."