Good Omens by Neil Gaiman Read Free Book Online

as possible.”
    â€œEvery country,” said Crowley. “The Earth and all the kingdoms thereof.”
    Aziraphale tossed the last scrap of bread at the ducks, who went off to pester the Bulgarian naval attaché and a furtive-looking man in a Cambridge tie, and carefully disposed of the paper bag in a wastepaper bin.
    He turned and faced Crowley.
    â€œWe’ll win, of course,” he said.
    â€œYou don’t want that,” said the demon.
    â€œWhy not, pray?”
    â€œListen ,” said Crowley desperately, “how many musicians do you think your side have got, eh? First grade, I mean.”
    Aziraphale looked taken aback.
    â€œWell, I should think—” he began.
    â€œTwo,” said Crowley. “Elgar and Liszt. That’s all . We’ve got the rest. Beethoven, Brahms, all the Bachs, Mozart, the lot. Can you imagine eternity with Elgar?”
    Aziraphale shut his eyes. “All too easily,” he groaned.
    â€œThat’s it, then,” said Crowley, with a gleam of triumph. He knew Aziraphale’s weak spot all right. “No more compact discs. No more Albert Hall. No more Proms. No more Glyndbourne. Just celestial harmonies all day long.”
    â€œIneffable,” Aziraphale murmured.
    â€œLike eggs without salt, you said. Which reminds me. No salt, no eggs. No gravlax with dill sauce. No fascinating little restaurants where they know you. No Daily Telegraph crossword. No small antique shops. No bookshops, either. No interesting old editions. No”—Crowley scraped the bottom of Aziraphale’s barrel of interests—“Regency silver snuffboxes … ”
    â€œBut after we win life will be better!” croaked the angel.
    â€œBut it won’t be as interesting. Look, you know I’m right. You’d be as happy with a harp as I’d be with a pitchfork.”
    â€œYou know we don’t play harps.”
    â€œAnd we don’t use pitchforks. I was being rhetorical.”
    They stared at one another.
    Aziraphale spread his elegantly manicured hands.
    â€œMy people are more than happy for it to happen, you know. It’s what it’s all about, you see. The great final test. Flaming swords, the Four Horsemen, seas of blood, the whole tedious business.” He shrugged.
    â€œAnd then Game Over, Insert Coin?” said Crowley.
    â€œSometimes I find your methods of expression a little difficult to follow.”
    â€œI like the seas as they are. It doesn’t have to happen. You don’t have to test everything to destruction just to see if you made it right.”
    Aziraphale shrugged again.
    â€œThat’s ineffable wisdom for you, I’m afraid.” The angel shuddered, and pulled his coat around him. Gray clouds were piling up over the city.
    â€œLet’s go somewhere warm,” he said.
    â€œYou’re asking me?” said Crowley glumly.
    They walked in somber silence for a while.
    â€œIt’s not that I disagree with you,” said the angel, as they plodded across the grass. “It’s just that I’m not allowed to disobey. You know that.”
    â€œMe too,” said Crowley.
    Aziraphale gave him a sidelong glance. “Oh, come now,” he said, “you’re a demon, after all.”
    â€œYeah. But my people are only in favor of disobedience in general terms. It’s specific disobedience they come down on heavily.”
    â€œSuch as disobedience to themselves?”
    â€œYou’ve got it. You’d be amazed. Or perhaps you wouldn’t be. How long do you think we’ve got?” Crowley waved a hand at the Bentley, which unlocked its doors.
    â€œThe prophecies differ,” said Aziraphale, sliding into the passenger seat. “Certainly until the end of the century, although we may expect certain phenomena before then. Most of the prophets of the past millennium were more concerned with scansion than accuracy.”
    Crowley pointed to the