No, you're not going insane, this got moved to the end for continuity :D I guess it means it's no longer an interlude, but I don't care! Yay! It's completely nonsensical, but hey, I'm feeling pretty nonsensical right now. Hopefully you find them kind of funny :) Points if you can figure out what the "what if" scenario being displayed is!

Also, thank you (um, I would say it in French except I have no idea how XD) to StoppingMotors for helping fix up Aziraphale's French :) That's 0/2 that online translators have gotten it right. If you learn one thing from this story, it would probably be that online translators don't work :)

Ineffability; Or

Divine Retakes

God finished writing down His schedule for the creation of a new world. It was a nice plan; if He stuck to it, the world would be made in six days. He could even take a nap at the end. Oh, naps. Probably His best invention yet (if not ever).

Normally He only liked to make the angels cheer him up when He was feeling a little depressed about things – a whole room full of angels Glorifying and Praising was awfully good for one's self esteem – but right now He really felt some Praising was in order. He walked to His window and gazed upon the Kingdom of Heaven. He snapped His fingers.

Keep on with the force don't stop! Don't stop 'til you get enough!

Instantly every angel in Heaven got their groove thang on in the Name of the Lord.

God scowled for the first time. "There's something distinctly undignified… Oh geez, please tell me they're not doing a… yes, that's a conga line." When he caught Gabriel doing the robot – awfully appropriate, considering who it was – God considered that maybe He Had Made a Mistake.

And the angel came in unto her, and

Said, Hey, how is it going?

And when she saw him, she was

confused at his colloquialism.

And the angel said unto her, Oh,

Right, I have this message for

you.

Let's see here – oh. Oh.

Apparently you are knocked up.

Then said Mary unto the angel, Wait, what?

The angel clarified, Preggers. You have a

Bun in the oven.

Name the kid Jesus.

Then said Mary unto the angel, How

Shall this be, seeing as I know not a man?

The angel looked angry. You know, he

Said, they don't tell me everything! How

Am I supposed to know that? I should

Smite you!

The angel was immediately recalled

to Heaven.

Aziraphale smirked at Crowley over his sunglasses. "What do you think?"

The demon felt faint at the sight of such a lovely, shiny new car. "Wow," he said.

"It's a Bentley," the angel replied, rubbing the steering wheel fondly, "I figure that people will see it and believe there really is a God. It's like it does my job for me."

Crowley reverently touched the vehicle. "I don't know if I can go in it, though. It looks like it'll go awfully fast…"

Aziraphale chuckled melodiously. "C'mon in, hun. You know I won't let anything hurt you."

Crowley practically swooned as he got in the car. "You know, there are times when I wish I was half as cool as you," he admitted, adjusting his bow tie.

Aziraphale smiled his brilliant angelic smile as they took off down the road. "Nyah." He reached over and gave his soul mate a kiss on the cheek. "I don't think you'd be half as nice to me as I am to you. Besides, I love you just the way you are."

This time Crowley did swoon.

Aziraphale chuckled again. Nobody, not even the women, swooned like that anymore – every time the demon managed to get his mind anywhere near the present it always gravitated towards the 1870s.

And the angel came in unto her, and

Said, Good morning dear, how are you

Doing this lovely evening?

And when she saw him, she felt warm

And happy on the inside.

And the angel said unto her, Mary dear,

I have to tell you some shocking news.

But here, sit down, and I brought you

Some healthy biscuits – nothing that will

Upset your delicate digestive system, but yet

Are still quite tasty.

So, The LORD has decided that you are to

Conceive a child and name him Jesus.

Isn't that a lovely name? My own son

Is named Aziraphael. Maybe

They can be friends! Oh, wouldn't

That be smashing!

Then said Mary unto the angel, How

Shall this be, seeing as I know not a man?

The angel of the LORD pushed a

Biscuit into her mouth. Oh you silly thing,

He said, Eat your biscuits and be a good

Girl. Here, I have an entire album of

Baby pictures for you to look at – see,

Wasn't he adorable when he was just a

Little thing, that's not to say he's not

Adorable now of course, but you know

Babies versus kids and the whole bit,

Plus now he's so smart too and he

Even -

He was recalled.

"Nicccce flaming sword," the serpent said.

The Angel of the Eastern Gate's illuminated face took on a rosy pallor. "Why thank you. You know, I was considering giving the sword away."

"Really? Can I have it?"

"No you can't have it! I was considering giving it to the poor dears," Aziraphale gestured with his free hand to the woods where Adam and Even had recently been banished to. "I mean, she is with child already and who knows what horrible things are out there…"

"But you kept it, huh?" Crawly asked.

"It's awfully pretty," the angel admitted.

Abruptly two very human screams of fright – one male and one female – filled the air.

"Ngk," said the demon.

The angel very much agreed.

The angel of the LORD did wander

The World for seventy days and

Seventy nights, telling every

Woman he saw that she was pregnant

In the hopes of finding the right

One – at least initially, because eventually

He stopped remembering even that much and

Began to hug everyone.

He was recalled.

"Wait, you're not the angel who wassss here the other day," said the serpent.

"That was Aziraphael," replied this much harsher-looking one, "He requested a transfer back to the Library. Turns out he wasn't very fond of gate guarding. Now be gone, demon."

Crawly wasn't very good at listening in that respect. "Geez, what a nerd. He wassss only here for like a day. Sssso, who're you?"

"Be gone, demon."

"That'ssss a weird name. I mean, sssso was Assssiraphale, but yourssss issss weirder. And he was a lot niccccer. Only told me to leave oncccce before realizing I wassssn't going anywhere."

The New Angel of the Eastern Gate's scowl turned into a glare. "If you must know, my name is Steve," he said importantly. "Now be gone, demon, lest I smite ye."

"… … … Ssssteve? Sssteve the Angel? Sssseriously? Not Ssssteve-el, or-"

Steve the Angel stepped on Crawly's head.

"LOOK AT THAT!" the demon screamed, pointing at the stone gigantic stone tablets, "'If a man strike a free-born woman so that she lose her unborn child, he shall pay ten shekels for her loss!' How is that equal? How is that fair?"

"Calm down, dear," Aziraphale replied as she gazed at the stone.

"Calm down!" Crowleigh echoed in rage, "Calm down! All this does is make it clear that women are not equal to men and it's not fair! It's not right! Where's the justice in it!"

"Crowleigh, you are woman-shaped, not a woman in actuality."

Crowleigh twisted her wrist behind her back, and instantly Aziraphale was pushed forward a couple of days in her menstrual cycle.

"Those bastards!" she exclaimed, fists clenched with holy rage, "We should smite them!"

"That's the spirit!"

A little less than three thousand years later:

Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, Pepper if you valued your spleen, laughed maniacally as she looked over her slaves.

World conquest suited her.

Aziraphale scowled as he packed his bags.

"You're actually leaving this forsaken island?" Crowley asked bemusedly.

"I can't take it anymore!" Aziraphale exclaimed, "I said, keep your pants on Arthur, no good will come of you - you whoring yourself around, but nooo, he had to go and get his sister – his sister, Crowley, his sister! – pregnant, and I finally realized that if I don't leave this miserable, foggy place right now I am going to do something which I will regret for eternity!"

"Fine by me," Crowley said, helping Aziraphale carry his things. "Where to next, then?"

"I don't even care!" the angel exclaimed, "I simply don't even care! Rome! Gaul! Egypt! Anywhere but this wretched place!"

A little less than two thousand years later:

Crowley sat across from Aziraphale in the back room of the angel's bookstore, drinking fine French wine. "So you see the problem?"

"Oui," replied Aziraphale, adjusting his beret, "'zis iz not gut for your country, oui?"

"You mean the planet, right?"

The angel got up to get a fresh baguette out of the oven. "Whatevair. I am sure zhat your leettle English problem iz of no concern to la France."

"Okay, drop the accent." Crowley decided to ignore the fact that he himself was speaking with a British one; he had grown a little fond of London, just because it wasn't Paris.

"What accent, oui?"

Crowley gave an irritated sigh. "Listen, we have to make sure this Warlock kid doesn't grow up to want to destroy the world, okay? Are you going to help me or not?"

Aziraphale gave an undignified snort as he stroked his slightly-twirly moustache. "I zhink not, mon ami; for you see, I refuse to set foot inside zhat horrible little country, wiz its smelly little Britishmen and its redcoats and its… its ozair zings zat I do not care about, vive la France."

Crowley blinked at him. "You realize we're talking about the Apocalypse, right? No more of your horrendous striped shirts, or your tasteless bread, or your… your cheese!"

Aziraphale slapped him. "How dare you!"

"Yeah!" Crowley snapped back, standing up as he rubbed his cheek, "Yeah, and, why don't you surrender to Hitler again, huh? Huh?"

"Partez de mon magasin, espèce d'horrible démon britannique!" Aziraphale screamed.*

Eleven years later:

Crowley, without some sort of moral support, decided to heck with it and went to go get drunk. As a result, he was dragged to Hell by Hastur and Ligur, and Adam faced down Beelzebub, Metatron and Satan by himself. The world didn't end, but Crowley sure wished it did. Aziraphale learned to make crepes and lived Frenchly ever after.

* At least in Québécois French that means "Leave my shop, you horrid British demon!"

"Any more miracles and we'll really start getting noticed by Up There," said Aziraphale. "If you really want Gabriel or someone wondering why forty policemen have gone to sleep-"

At the sound of his name, the Angel of the Lord descended from On High. He saw Aziraphale and gave a great sigh. "Oh, it's you again. Associated with yet another mass miracle. We have a lot to talk about."

Crowley went to go hide behind a tree. Gabriel smote him with a thought.

He then pulled out a very large scroll. "You realize that you've maxed out your miracle quota for the month two times over, yes?"

Aziraphale stared at where Crowley had been, his mouth ajar.

"Not to mention you haven't inspired any acts of temperance lately – in fact, you have been, some would say, the epitome of gluttony," the archangel continued, looking at him severely.

"This – this really isn't the best time," Aziraphale stammered.

Gabriel ignored him. "And, from the looks of our records, you haven't attended a religious ceremony in two decades. You apparently missed the memo where we declared that all angels should become vegans, because it seems to be the case that you are set on eating every duck on this island-"

"I love ducks! I feed them almost every day!"

"Oh yes, and you've been creating overweight waterfowl, and…"

Six hours later

"You haven't submitted any ideas to the Holy Word Newsletter and your taxes were due last week," Gabriel finished, rolling up the scroll. "I have to say, it's not a very good report, Aziraphael."

"Sorry sir," replied the Principality, willing himself back awake.

"Don't make me come back down here again, Aziraphael."

"Yes sir."

He ascended back into Heaven, leaving a very alone Aziraphale behind.