A close friend of mine (another walk-away, and one who could probably benefit from this pace) wrote this little story, and I thought I'd share it with you all:

All of Heaven's hosts had assembled around the dinner table. Of course, this being Heaven, the table had more in common with a big-ass Ark of the Covenant. The legs were gilded with gold from the four corners of Earth, as well as some very nice amethyst from the 11th corner of Europa, one of the larger moons orbiting Jupiter, though not as big as Ganymede, largest of them all. The legs themselves stood 120 stories tall, for God was very large, and needed a large table. The table cloth was comprised of various fabrics and artifacts from Earth as well, and nothing from the rest of the solar system, whose civilizations God had wiped out prior to mankind's emergence. If one looked closely (assuming they were as large as God, what with size and perception being relative), they would notice among the patchwork The Shroud of Turin, the AIDS Quilt, and I'm sure some other very interesting things.
As all the souls in Heaven murmured to each other about what was happening, two individuals appeared. One, God. The other, Ralph.
God looked like God. 2,200 ft. tall, 1/8 of an ounce, and 100 million lumens (of course, in Heaven, industrial -strength Ray-Bans came standard at the gate, so everyone could not only see God, but also look really cool). Ralph looked like Ralph. Just under 6 ft., 250 lbs., and a little dumpy.
They approached the crowd. God walked in an upright gait, while Ralph had to haul ass just to stay two steps behind Him.
"Hosannah! Hosannah!" the souls exclaimed, with angels playing beautiful music in the background. "God is Lord! The Lord is God!" When they noticed Ralph, they simply ignored him and continued in God's praise. After all, Ralph was not Lord, and The Lord was not Ralph.
Upon reaching the table, God scooped a wheezing, sweaty Ralph into His hand, and lifted him up to the tabletop.
More angels emerged over the horizon. Thousands of them, all carrying what could only be described as...a plate.
When the Angels brought the plate before God, they asked His leave. He gave it, for He was all-giving, and they fluttered away like the prettiest bird that you ever did see.
"Hope you like breakfast," said Ralph. "I made it myself."
Indeed, Ralph had made breakfast for The Lord, and it looked great. God was a well-known aficianado for flapjacks, and on that majestic plate stood a stack of them. They were covered in maple syrup that ran off them like Victoria Falls, and the pats of butter were also pretty sizeable.
"LOOKS GOOD," God's voice boomed, and He grabbed His fork and dug in. Oh, how He ate. He ate and ate and ate, all the while the throngs in attendance cheering Him on for doing what He did best: being God and eating breakfast. God looked at Ralph and smiled. He appeared ready to say something, and then, He coughed.
It was a small cough at first, as armies of angels flew headlong into His back as if to give Him a hard pat. But the coughs grew worse. And worse. And worse.
As God turned blue, he looked again at Ralph. Now it was Ralph that looked like he was smiling, but in truth, it was closer to a crooked grin.
God gurgled one final time and then collapsed into the table. The same thought hit all of Heaven instantly: those had been God-killing pancakes.
The angels, the souls of heaven, everyone, they all looked at Ralph. Ralph gave them the same smile he gave God. And they all turned and fled. They fled Ralph, they fled his smile, they fled what had just happened, but mostly, they fled those God-killing pancakes. The End.