There was a table; a simple, real object, in a world of weightless nothingness. Around it sat several figures, all of striking appearance. One, a massive bald man, sat with legs crossed; a sour expression on his creased face. A gold and maroon robe covered his rolling form, tucked into hidden clefts and valleys. He sighed, staring at his cards in disgust. "I'm out," he said, throwing the cards down.
"Me too," said another, a darkly bearded young man. He threw his cards down, his action mimicked by the man beside him, a fair haired reflection of himself.
They all stared at the one other occupant of the table; a large, broad shouldered old man, with shining white hair rolling down his back and a peaceful expression on his face. The old man smiled and lay down a perfect hand to noises of disgust from the others.
"You know," Jesus said, "after the thousandth time it becomes obvious one is cheating."
God chuckled. "So why haven't my methods been ... exposed?" He reached forward, sweeping the heaped up chips and cards toward him.
"It's not for lack of trying," Muhammad grumbled. "You wily old bastard."
"I have been meditating on it for the last thousand years," Buddha said, shrugging his massive shoulders, setting off a veritable tsunami of fat. The maudlin expression didnt leave his face. "I still haven't figured it out."
God was supremely unaffected by any of this, merely dealing out the cards as per usual. "Thats all very well and good gentlemen, but what do you propose we do about our audience?"
They all turned and stared at the Man. He was laying on the floor in ripped jeans and a faded T-shirt, an expression of confusion and horror on his face; as if he couldnt comprehend what he was seeing.
"I wonder who he represents," Muhammad said, curious,
"The disaffected fools too attached to the material illusion to see the true paradise?" suggested Buddha.
"Perhaps. Or maybe he represents no one and nothing beyond himself," said Jesus, pausing for a moment. "Are we being defined by his perception?"
"Somewhat," God said, "only in the sense that we have taken on forms he recognises and can relate to."
Indeed, Jesus and God were suddenly much bigger and brighter than before. "Cool," Jesus said, amused by the transition. Muhammad too, grew, although his form became murkier, as if the Man was unsure of what to think about him. They all turned at Buddha's shout of alarm to see him rapidly fading.
"Help!" he shouted.
God waved his hand and Buddha reappeared, glaring at the Man. He turned to Mohommad, "Wanna trade? Ignorance for your infamy?"
Muhammad smiled thinly. "I think not my friend. Their perceptions do not bother me, nor should they you." And with that he returned to his normal, focused self.
"So ... um, is this all there is?" said the Man suddenly, waving about, indicating the white nothingness.
God looked around, surveying his friends and their surroundings. "Yes. There are more of us--fractured reflections of the one whole, as defined by you--however, we dont really care for them."
"Oh, I see," said the man, not seeing at all.
"Have you learnt the lesson yet?" God asked gently, as one afraid of the answer.
"No."
God sighed, not at all surprised. "Don't do drugs. It will seriously mess you up."
The table with its players slowly faded.
"I used to be thin once, you know," Buddha said.
"Yes," Jesus sighed, "we know."
Either way...priceless. 
