Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“Shit shit shit” Crowley despaired whilst looking down at a screaming wicker basket once again “why me?”
To enlighten us upon this recent situation we look to the voice of God for assistance. Who does not reply as she is currently too wrapped up in the ineffable game of her own devising which no other being, mortal or otherwise, could dare attempt to understand (a fact Crowley was just becoming to realise) (again). What God was actually doing was attempting to work out when and where she had managed to lose track of Pope John Paul I, who was rather intriguingly only Pope for a mere 33 days before unexpectedly croaking it. Some say it was a cardiac arrest, others have decided it was an attack due to his sheer audacity to take on not one but two papal names. The reality shall we say simply was ineffable.
So, in conclusion, to this sorry day we shall leave Aziraphale oblivious to this current situation and desperately trying to gain the support of the squabbling archangels (but more obviously trying to convince himself he done the Right thing in returning to heaven). As he was clearly following the Metatron’s and by extension God’s plan, right? This, however, was not necessarily the case. When God eventually looks up from her current searching she will be disappointed and slightly annoyed at the Metatron for breaking up one of her main sources of entertainment in her universe. Pushing those two idiots together usually with extraordinary amounts of wine in the vicinity had been a humorous diversion indeed. Alas as Aziraphale so aptly put “nothing lasts forever.” We leave Crowley, on the other hand, currently trying to convince himself that everything is in fact totally chill (a phrase he had recently picked up from hanging around in the company of The Them as Crowley unlike Aziraphale rather enjoyed the changes in fashion and language as it kept a bit of variety in his rather long existence.)