As Dave and Zorg set out on their quest to find the meaning of life, they found themselves in a peculiar tea shop nestled between the fabric of reality and a particularly stubborn piece of cosmic lint. The shop's sign, which seemed to be made of congealed starlight, read: "The Philosopher's Scone: Where Baked Goods Meet Metaphysics."

"Ooh, I've heard about this place!" Zorg exclaimed, his antennae quivering with excitement. "They say their Earl Grey can help you see through time, and their croissants are so flaky they exist in multiple dimensions at once!"

Dave raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly is this going to help us find the meaning of life?"

"Well," Zorg replied, stroking his non-existent beard thoughtfully, "they also say that hidden within one of their scones is the secret to universal enlightenment. We just have to find the right one!"

As they entered the shop, they were greeted by a barista who appeared to be a sentient cloud of pure thought. "Welcome to The Philosopher's Scone," it said in a voice that sounded like a gentle breeze rustling through the pages of an ancient tome. "What can I get for you today? Perhaps an Existential Espresso? Or a Nihilist Nut Muffin?"

Dave, still somewhat overwhelmed by the shop's otherworldly ambiance, stammered, "We're... uh... looking for the meaning of life?"

The thought-cloud barista bobbed in what might have been a nod. "Ah, yes. That would be our special of the day. The Enlightenment Platter. It comes with a selection of our finest scones, each imbued with a different philosophical concept. One of them contains the answer you seek. That'll be infinity plus one, please."

Dave patted his pockets, realizing he didn't have any currency, let alone an infinite amount plus one. "I don't suppose you'd accept payment in the form of a slightly used divine spark?"

The barista's wisps swirled in what seemed to be amusement. "For you, former Almighty, we'll make an exception. One Enlightenment Platter, coming right up!"

Moments later, they were seated at a table that seemed to be made of solidified quantum foam, staring at a platter of the most unusual scones they had ever seen. Each pastry shimmered with an otherworldly glow, and tiny labels identified them with names like "Cartesian Conundrum," "Nietzschean Nougat," and "Platonic Ideal."

Zorg, ever the enthusiast, grabbed the first scone he could reach - the "Heraclitean Flux" - and took a big bite. Instantly, his form began to shift and change, cycling through various species and states of matter.

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"Fascinating!" Zorg exclaimed, his voice alternating between a deep baritone and a high-pitched squeak as he transformed. "Everything is change! The only constant is impermanence!"

Dave, more cautious, selected the "Socratic Method" scone and took a small nibble. Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming urge to question everything. "But why are we eating these scones? What is the true nature of pastry? Can one truly 'know' a scone?"

For the next hour, they sampled scone after scone, each imparting a different philosophical perspective. Dave found himself arguing with his own shoelaces after tasting the "Solipsism Swirl," while Zorg spent ten minutes trying to prove he existed after biting into the "Cartesian Conundrum."

Finally, there was only one scone left on the platter. It was a plain, unassuming pastry with no label.

"This must be it," Dave said, picking up the scone. "The one with the meaning of life."

Zorg, who had finally settled back into his original form, watched eagerly as Dave took a bite.

Dave chewed thoughtfully, his eyes widening. Then he swallowed and burst out laughing.

"Well?" Zorg asked, practically bouncing in his seat. "What's the meaning of life?"

Dave, still chuckling, shook his head. "It's... it's just a really good scone."

Zorg's antennae drooped. "That's it? But what about universal enlightenment?"

"Don't you see?" Dave said, offering the other half of the scone to his companion. "The meaning of life isn't some grand, cosmic secret. It's in the simple things. It's in a perfectly baked scone, shared with a friend. It's in the journey, the questions, the constant search for understanding."

Zorg took a bite of the scone, and his eyes lit up. "You know what? You're right. This is a really good scone."

As they left The Philosopher's Scone, bellies full and minds whirling with newfound perspectives, Dave couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. He might not have all the answers anymore, but he was beginning to realize that not knowing was half the fun.

"So," Zorg said as they stepped back into the swirling cosmos, "what's next on our grand adventure?"

Dave grinned. "How about we try to find out why a raven is like a writing desk?"

And with that, the former god and his quirky guide set off into the universe, ready for whatever paradoxes, pastries, or philosophical conundrums awaited them.