(no subject)
So, foreverdirt and I were discussing the homosexual necrophiliac duck rape that netted somebody an Ig-Nobel Prize. And she mentioned Good Omens in relation to the aforementioned homosexual necrophiliac duck rape.
Crowley and Aziraphale were feeding the ducks. As Aziraphale tossed half a slice of Mother's Pride wholegrain (which had been Sainsbury's Economy White a moment before he removed it from the packet) two ducks erupted from the pond. One careered across the path, closely pursued by the other, before slamming into a tree and plummeting to the ground.
It was fairly obviously dead. Live ducks can't bend their necks like that.
Aziraphale cast a reproving glance at Crowley, who had one eyebrow raised high enough to be visible above his sunglasses. Crowley shrugged. "Wasn't me."
From Aziraphale's expression, he didn't entirely believe Crowley but all he said was, "Whoever it was, we can't leave a dead duck lying there."
"Why not?"
"It'll upset the kiddies." Aziraphale watched as both of Crowley's eyebrows shot upwards. "What?"
"Er..."
Aziraphale followed Crowley's gaze. He stood in stunned silence for a moment. "Stop that this instant, Crowley."
"It's not me. I thought it was you."
"Why would I do... that?"
"It's certainly cheering up the kiddies."
"Homosexual necrophiliac rape is more your line than mine."
"Not among ducks," Crowley objected. "Even I draw the line at ducks."
They watched for a few moments longer. "Crowley?"
"Yes, Aziraphale?"
"Let's go to the Ritz."
Crowley cast one last look at the ducks before turning away. "I think that's a very, very, very good idea. But let's not have the duck."
Crowley and Aziraphale were feeding the ducks. As Aziraphale tossed half a slice of Mother's Pride wholegrain (which had been Sainsbury's Economy White a moment before he removed it from the packet) two ducks erupted from the pond. One careered across the path, closely pursued by the other, before slamming into a tree and plummeting to the ground.
It was fairly obviously dead. Live ducks can't bend their necks like that.
Aziraphale cast a reproving glance at Crowley, who had one eyebrow raised high enough to be visible above his sunglasses. Crowley shrugged. "Wasn't me."
From Aziraphale's expression, he didn't entirely believe Crowley but all he said was, "Whoever it was, we can't leave a dead duck lying there."
"Why not?"
"It'll upset the kiddies." Aziraphale watched as both of Crowley's eyebrows shot upwards. "What?"
"Er..."
Aziraphale followed Crowley's gaze. He stood in stunned silence for a moment. "Stop that this instant, Crowley."
"It's not me. I thought it was you."
"Why would I do... that?"
"It's certainly cheering up the kiddies."
"Homosexual necrophiliac rape is more your line than mine."
"Not among ducks," Crowley objected. "Even I draw the line at ducks."
They watched for a few moments longer. "Crowley?"
"Yes, Aziraphale?"
"Let's go to the Ritz."
Crowley cast one last look at the ducks before turning away. "I think that's a very, very, very good idea. But let's not have the duck."