Something like a crossroads song.

Something like a crossroads song (

charlieblue) wrote on May 17th, 2009 at 10:46 am

Why yes, the footnotes do include footnotes.

[Crossposted to Livejournal.]

A silly, cracky Good Omens drabble for

karanguni, who has recently reached egregiously unnatural levels of awesome.

Footnotes to the Strange and Varied Ethics of the Demon Formerly Known as Crawly.

If the Bentley is dented, scratched, crashed, dinted, sliced, keyed, egged, slashed, scored, nicked, notched, devoured, nicked, grazed, incised, regurgitated upon, indented, dimpled, shot at, blown up, melted, burnt, drilled, towed, stolen, sunk, eaten¹, mutilated, damaged, graffitied, cursed, possessed, insulted, maimed, defaced, marred, buried, electrocuted, smashed, hand-grenaded or in any way harmed, Crowley will not be held responsible for his actions².

1. Ever hear that old joke about a Kraken, a demon and a 1926 Black Bentley? That’s because everyone who has was Taken Care Of three eons ago.

2. Technically, he isn't responsible for any of his actions, what with being a demon and having an irredeemable demonic nature and all, which, yes, defeats the purpose of the whole 'Ethics' exercise, as has been expounded to a certain Angel numerous times, but said angel is stubborn, and has sat through three International Crime Tribunals in swift succession, and Crowley was in an easy-going state of mind, something that has only occurred five times since the beginning of the Arrangement, and - Just go with it, okay?

He loves his plants, he really does. He loves them so much that when he’s going to be away for a while, he leaves Countdown with Keith Olbermann on full blast, just so they’ll have someone to threaten them with death in his absence.

He popped into Guantanamo Bay once, a year or two back, and promptly fell off the face of the Earth. Aziraphale found him three weeks later on a beach in Scotland, twenty-seven empty bottles of Russian vodka lined up on the sand beside him¹.

1. Half the local town had, during this time, undergone a spontaneous epiphany, decided to ‘see the world’, and packed up shop in order to embark on ‘indefinite vacations, ’ all the while muttering madly about haunted beaches and unseelie beasties who screamed old pirate shanties during the night and despised humankind.

English is his preferred language, due in large part, though he will never admit it, to the influence of a certain Angel. The problems encountered in expressing himself start and end with the basis of the language upon certain constructions of faith and the ontological perception of the world as a product of a most unknowable divinity. But he is rather proud of the invention of OMG.

Morningstar, that unholy bastard¹, lured him into the home stretch of his fall with the enticement of a fantastically stylish and anachronistic tie clip. He couldn’t help himself, really², and he figures that if he’s going to be evil, he might as well be evil with style. He’s only ever met one man who manages to pull off amorality with anywhere near his level of panache. But we don’t talk about Danny Ocean.

1. What? It’s a compliment Down There.

2. It was just so shiny. And unexpectedly functional to boot. What could possibly have gone wrong?