The weather is here
May. 4th, 2006 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eorAn attempt at the ever popular theme of Crowley and Aziraphale on vacation:
Crowley didn't know why Aziraphale was so fascinated with living as the natives lived whenever they went on Holiday. The natives didn't choose to live that way, they were stuck with it. But Aziraphale liked to pretend.
They sat in the shade of the porch, drinking in the heat of the afternoon, their feet up on the porch rail. Crowley's black clad legs and dress shoes providing a startling contrast to Aziraphale's pasty white legs and sneakers. Aziraphale had tried to convince him to wear a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, an endeavor that was doomed to failure from the start.
"You really outdid yourself with the tin houses," Aziraphale observed, in an obvious attempt to cheer Crowley's mood. The neighborhood was strewn with the dismal little boxes most decorated or appended to in a vain attempt to hid its dismal little boxiness.
"Wasn't mine. They did that themselves. Must we drink this... stuff"
"Sorry, we really should throw a Bud can out in the yard every now and then. Let's go to Disney tomorrow! I love 'It's a Small World'. I think it's one of my best works."
Crowley quickly hid his smile with another drink from his can. He thought of all the tired children screaming, the exhausted parents, the credit cards sagging under enormous strain, the unreal expectations and dashed hopes. It was a work that was perfect to the point of art. He was proud of his art.
"If you like angel, to humor you."
"We supposed to hit the car with the can?" said Crowley taking aim at the hulk up on blocks ten feet from the porch.
Crowley didn't know why Aziraphale was so fascinated with living as the natives lived whenever they went on Holiday. The natives didn't choose to live that way, they were stuck with it. But Aziraphale liked to pretend.
They sat in the shade of the porch, drinking in the heat of the afternoon, their feet up on the porch rail. Crowley's black clad legs and dress shoes providing a startling contrast to Aziraphale's pasty white legs and sneakers. Aziraphale had tried to convince him to wear a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, an endeavor that was doomed to failure from the start.
"You really outdid yourself with the tin houses," Aziraphale observed, in an obvious attempt to cheer Crowley's mood. The neighborhood was strewn with the dismal little boxes most decorated or appended to in a vain attempt to hid its dismal little boxiness.
"Wasn't mine. They did that themselves. Must we drink this... stuff"
"Sorry, we really should throw a Bud can out in the yard every now and then. Let's go to Disney tomorrow! I love 'It's a Small World'. I think it's one of my best works."
Crowley quickly hid his smile with another drink from his can. He thought of all the tired children screaming, the exhausted parents, the credit cards sagging under enormous strain, the unreal expectations and dashed hopes. It was a work that was perfect to the point of art. He was proud of his art.
"If you like angel, to humor you."
"We supposed to hit the car with the can?" said Crowley taking aim at the hulk up on blocks ten feet from the porch.
