Xthemsqt was rhapsodic.

“This is such a beautiful world,” he/she opined. “Look at the way the light of our distant sun reflects off the equatorial permafrost. Why, our best astronomers have proven that, were our planet but a few million qzeks closer to the sun, the precious ice covering would melt, and we would cook in the heat. And, were we somewhat further away, the ammonia oceans would freeze and we would no longer be able to harvest the precious fzurk-mk.

“It seems to me that only an intelligent Creator could have fashioned such a world. Why, isn’t it too extraordinary to be coincidental that we, who could not survive without methane, just happen to live on a planet whose glacial atmosphere is more than 30% methane gas? And don’t you think it astonishing,” he/she continued, waving a lazy flipper-analogue in the general direction of his/her own opalescent and mucoidal torso-segments, “that we should be provided with such an abundance of tasty exoskin parasites on which to feed?” He/she plucked a quivering lbcksaat-grub from beneath a fleshy fold, and quickly absorbed its electrical charge. “These delicious morsels were clearly designed for our nourishment, don’t you think?”

Flemsqat sensed the mass of his/her elder relative through his/her sensory nodes. Turning his/her third snout in Xthemsqt’s direction, he/she looked pensive.

“Most excellent Xthemsqt,” Flemsqat began. “I fear there is a flaw in your reasoning. Although you are correct, in that we are clearly situated on a world ideal for our needs, I believe you are mistaken when you assume that it was designed for our benefit. Is it not possible that perhaps it is we, in existence for such a short part of this planet’s history, who have adapted to our surroundings?”

A low and disapproving farting sound erupted from Xthemsqt, but Flemsqat continued unabated. “Imagine, if you will, a world very much unlike our own. Suppose that it were much hotter, so hot that hydrogen dioxide melted, and suppose the atmosphere was rich in corrosive oxygen. Imagine a world without dfgrith, where the gravity was ten times our own. Now consider creatures that might evolve on such a world. Carbon-based, say. Bilaterally symmetrical. Creatures that are so alien, so otherworldly, that they experience the universe in a profoundly different way – by detecting electromagnetic wavelengths, for example. Creatures that have to break down organic matter to obtain nourishment.”

Xthemsqt indicated, with a casual twist of a tentacle, that he/she followed.

“Now consider,” continued Flemsqat, “what such beings might think. They would say, ‘Look at how warm our world is, and how well suited for our particular form of life!’ But you and I would know, most excellent Xthemsqt, that such a world was no Paradise, but the worst sort of Hell – why, we would not survive for mere kpliks in a place like that!”

“What is your point, esteemed Flemsqat?” drawled Xthemsqt, languorously wallowing in a pool of his own spthrge. He/she was confused by the course this conversation was taking, and emitted a brief burst of bewildered high-intensity radiation.

“Simply this, O most excellent kinsman, simply this. What if we have not so much been placed in a world designed for our comfort, but rather have evolved to exist comfortably in such a world? Had the setup been different, had the planet been warmer, or larger, or in a different star system, it is true that we would not have arisen as a species – but perhaps something else would! Can you imagine how foolish it would be if the carbon-based creatures we considered a moment ago were to deduce, from the eminent suitability of their planet, the existence of some Divine Creator? Well might you undulate your gibbl in mirth at the idea!”

Xthemsqt looked discomfited. He/she was not used to having his/her ideas questioned, especially by a young upstart like Flemsqat, who was barely out of gbothlk. There did not seem, however, to be a suitable reply. Xthemsqt let out a flatulent sigh and allowed his/her gibbl to droop slightly in defeat. Then, being the elder of the two (and constrained by the dictates of propriety), he/she proceeded to kill and dissect Flemsqat, for the execrable crime of heresy.

The moral? Nobody likes a smartass, even if he’s right.