If you ignore the fact that I am supposed to, in the minds of many who know no better, know everything, I can be rather daft. On bad days. Especially when I’ve just woken and haven’t had the chance to put anything into my system that could be thought of as a “stimulant”. I don’t take stimulants often, and when I do they are normally found in the substance caffeine, which I obtain through tea and coffee, and sometimes, when I’m feeling particularly rebellious, cola.
But, if you look rather closely, that is as rebellious as I come. Of course, there was that situation with the end of the world and my definite distaste for it, but that was inspired by the fact that the world was a good, wonderful place, and I truly wanted to savor the goodness of it. Honest to God. In a matter of speaking.
I liked (still do, in fact) tossing bread to the ducks and watching them devour it without another thought on their minds - which is decidedly false, as those ducks are some of the smartest fowl I have ever had the chance of encountering, considering their quick perception of bread-carrying passers-by.
I liked walking in general - strolling beneath the stars and letting the cosmos dwell
upon my mind in such a way that I was nearly bedazzled. It was a thoughtless pursuit, one I took in easily. I do like to think, to ponder the deep and mysterious - however I have found that pondering normally leads to analyzing religion, and that is an area not quite unknown to me. Pondering something one knows the
upside and downside to - especially knowing that learning any more is quite impossible - is a rather dead end occupation of your time. And thus I find it quite relieving to merely be overrun by things in place of thoughts.
I also thoroughly enjoy rambling, as I’m sure you have surmised. It comes easily to me, the stringing of words together with no meaning in sight - the overstressing of the same point with different phrasing. I don’t intend to do it, but it happens, and I mean to embrace my talents.
So, with these points - among others - I must admit that perhaps I did not hope
Armageddon upon the earth merely because it was good. Perhaps I was a bit selfish, thinking that I was quite founded in my likes, and at least someone should listen.
I’m quite glad it did not come about. There’s nothing quite so dampening on your day as the end of the world, especially when you haven’t watched the end of The Sound of Music. And you know you’ll like it.
Can you see where I am, now? I venture to admit another reason why I deemed Armageddon a bad plan for the time being. And, as you can obviously see, his ideas have permeated my speech with such abound that I fear I am not fully me any longer. And thus I have no choice but to acknowledge him.
Because of him, I have a general tendency to be addicted to alcohol, though I think I may have had that problem for a long while before I cared of his opinions. I
am adept at repairing cruelties that are not truly meant to be cruel, but only come naturally to him. I am fascinated by thoughts that I never would have considered, not until I had truly listened to him and the way he made them make sense.
I met him before I listened to him. He was a demon, a lowlife, a fallen angel; someone I surely should not associate with if given the chance. Of course, with the way that things normally work out, we were together for agood time longer than I think anyone had originally intended. Perhaps not anyone - He is ineffable.
Which sets me to wondering. Why would God, in all of His ineffability, fail to foresee the downfall of Armageddon? I think he meant for it to happen that way, which gives me the partially uncomfortable feeling that I was right in giving those poor children my sword. And the partially gleeful feeling that Crowley did, indeed, do something right without knowing it. The thought makes me laugh.
I’m meeting him in a few minutes, and I must leave soon. If I’m late he’ll be
disappointed - or perhaps pleased - that I am becoming less angelic in my schedule. And he’ll complain over his food whilst calling me “angel” - a word that gives us such odd looks from the other patrons - in an aggravated manner that surely cannot be healthy for his metabolism.
And I, being an angel, will smile, nod perhaps, insert bits of conversation where I deem fit, and politely pretend that I am not sitting closer to him so that I can hear the soft bits of air exhaled from his lips. And he, being a demon, will not fail to talk my ear off of his exploits concerning the damning of human souls, grin wickedly, and take full advantage of the situation to run his hand up my leg.
