At school the next day, Joan -- wearing a brightly coloured striped t-shirt and an olive green cardigan -- is talking to the Charlie Brown tree: "You think you'll survive out here all alone. You're pathetic. You're me." Behind her, one of the smoking hangout types, a cute guy in a camouflage jacket, advises her, "It needs water. And…you should turn the soil." Joan sneers, "Why don't you, if you're so concerned, Foghead?" He replies, "It's your assignment, Joan. You asked for it." She looks only mildly surprised and then mildly annoyed: "This is a new look for you." He sighs a little, and gestures to his baggy denims, "Yeah. I mean, the jeans are really comfy." Frink takes the opportunity to elaborate on his theory that God just inhabits existing bodies, whereas I tend to believe that God just whips up earthly incarnations at whim. I tell him to save it for the commercial break, as I'm supposed to be paying attention here. Joan says she thought she'd have some help. Slacker God says he knows where she's coming from: "It's like, uh, everybody has something better to do. Until they're on a plane, and then they're all over me." Hee. I resemble that remark. Joan: "That means something, right?" Slacker God: "Totally." He tells her to pick up her tools and start turning the dirt. While she's grabbing a rake, he takes off for the bleachers. Joan sees him and calls, "Oh! You're leaving me, too?" He just gives her a Godwave. She starts whacking at the ground with a rake, muttering, "That's a fine way to run a universe."