Hey, I’m not God; I’m a science fiction writer. My name is Raleigh Theodore Sakers; yeah, that’s me. I’m a fuckin genius, obviously. You need my help; spiritually, you’re weak. I don’t do this shit for nothin’, you pay me, you motherfuckers. I did all your homework for you, now I’ll sell it back to ya: fifty thousand fuckin’ dollars a page. So get your fuckin’ money together, and chip in or some-fuckin’-thing, and get spiritually educated while I’m here ‘cause I ain’t gonna hang around here for long. You make me sick; I’m gonna vomit; I don’t wanna regurgitate on sacred ground because I may fuckin’ drop something natural somewhere and it might grow into another piece of shit like you. I don’t recognize any of you fuckin’ people. You’re not real; you came outta comic books.