Mister Kline: ...and before I sign off for today, could You maybe do something about this thing on my foot? *hoists foot onto uncluttered desk, pulls off shoe and sock*
God: Suppose you tell Me what I'm supposed to be looking at, exactly--?
Mr. Kline: That white spot... I think it's a Plantar's wart?
God: So? Go down to the corner drugstore and pick up some of that remover.
Mr. Kline: Well... I mean, You're right here, couldn't You just heal it for me?
God: Ugh. Stop wasting My time. I was going to give you a chance to repent for all the terrorism business, but you know what? This is the last straw. You're going straight to hell.
Mr. Kline *panicked*: But, I--!
God: Peace out!
[The shimmering image evaporates, leaving Mr. Kline in total darkness.]