"Not only is your race not the centre of the universe, we don't even have the comfort of cosmic indifference. He did have a chosen people and the universe was created for them."
"Oh... Will I meet them?"
"No... Thier leader convinced them vaccines caused baldness and they all died."

"He just kind of... hangs around here since we built the place."
"He must be a great source of wisdom."
"He's a prick."
"Oh... why not ask him to leave?"
"We did, but he just mutters something about quantum super position and technically being everywhere all the time anyway."One of the unfulfilled Comic ideas I have swirling around in my head takes place at Galactic Command - the centre of a Star Trek-esque peaceful organisation formed in cooperation by the various civilisations of the Galaxy. Humanty is the latest admitted member and one diplomat is getting the tour of Galactic HQ. In a connecting cooridoor between conference rooms F11 through F15 and the elevator lives God. No, not that God... not that one either. The -real- God.