Hermes Trismegistus has been locked in his attic all day. His roomies saw him dissappear with the bong four hours ago, and are waiting in pissed off silence watching TV in total sobriety and discussing how one of them should go back in time to video tape an Ancient Greek theatre production.

Finally, the Magus 8=3 Science Wizard emerges down the staircase ladder to Jacobian Heaven, and is greeted immediately by his homies Albert Einstein and Zoroaster.

“Finally,” Einstein exclaims.

“Whatever you were doing up there better have been good,” Zoroaster punctuates.

“It was,” Hermes reassures, “The bad news is that I ruined you guyses bong by converting it into an alemble: but the good news is that I found a way to make weed buds have sex and reproduce like no tomorrow after being stuffed into a sack next to one another, so that you pay a fraction of the weekly groceries for magickally multiplying marijuana.”

“Fuck yes dude: you’re a Genius. And here I was thinking that I fucked up because my nuclear discoveries were used to make bombs rather than fabricate perfect gold when the government broke into my house and watched me experiment,” Einstein complimented.

“You guys are both going to Hell: I stick with the work of God,” Zoroaster chastized.

“Fuck the work of God,” Hermes replied, “I am the work of God.”

“Some day I do hope to fuck the work of God,” Einstein added.

“That’s interesting: I never knew you felt that way about me.”

“No, you dipshit: I was making a teleological argument: you think that God made women hotter than Hell for no reason and on some random impulse just to see what would happen? Of course he guided the stochastic Darwinian selection process in the way that he did with a handful of ideals in mind.”

“Yeah: that bastard Demiurge was more vacuous and misogynistic than a large stack of fashion and pop culture magazines,” Zoroaster conceded wistfully.