Good Omens: Fairytales 🧚‍♀️ ✨

How did we get here?

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Oh! Hello, I didn't see you there. You really should say something, you almost scared me half to death.

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..Right. Who am I? Well, certainly not God! Imagine that! Anyway, I am what's called "the narrator". Typically, in a story that's in third person, there is someone reading out the events of the story. That's me! And of course, there's the reader reading the narrator's words who is also reading the events of the story. And here you are! Right on time, too! A little punctual are we?

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Oh! Look at the time, we must be going. Going where you ask? Oh, I don't know, Azkaban! To go and read the story. Shall we?

(insert totally cool sequence of space and time continuum heading off into the story)

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Now, this is a story, obviously. But not just any story. Not like anything else you've read, unless you've read something about an angel and a demon trying to throw a birthday party for the antichrist because armageddon is coming, and they need to stop it. No? Alright then, this isn't your usual story. It's a very special one, a very special one indeed.

Meet: Crowley. A demon of hell, who's job is to work for hell, but usually just goes along with his own way of work. Not. Kind.
Meet: Aziraphale. An angel of heaven, the sweetest person you will ever meet, (unless he gets frustrated), and never breaks the rules. Unless we're talking about armageddon, of course. Very. Kind.

Aziraphale and Crowley have lived day by day since the beginning of time, next to each other. A very special friendship indeed. Nowadays, Aziraphale runs a bookshop, and Crowley lives in his flat (what we Americans call a studio apartment) where he takes care of plants, by yelling at them. Sometimes, they dine at the ritz, other times they visit the theater, but this time, they need to throw a birthday party. Easy, right? WRONG.

You'll understand in about two seconds, where we see Crowley (very unsafely) drive up to the angel's bookshop, let himself in very rudely, probably in a panic, to talk to the angel himself.

"Well I never, sir or ma'am slamming the door open is very rude indeed I- Oh, Crowley! Crowley? What are you doing here in such a hurry?" Aziraphale said, with a worried look on his face. "Listen, angel, can we talk? I have an idea that I would like to discuss with you.." Crowley said, out of breath. Aziraphale had a confused look on his face. "..Right now." "Oh! Oh yes, let me just- grab a chair!" As Aziraphale went to go grab a chair from the near back of the shop, Crowley sank in the angel's desk chair and put his glasses on the old-timey phone. This happened regularly if they needed to talk about something, or just talk in general. But usually, they drink about five or six bottles of wine before anything really happens.

The angel came back with a comfortable-looking chair, and sat in it properly. (Legs closed, hands folded on top of them, sitting straight up and looking Crowley in the eye..or anyone else in front of him.) "So, what did you need to talk about in such a hurry?" The angel said. "I wasn't in a hurry..was I?" The demon responded. "You almost broke the door! I would of had to hire someone to do it, which could take ages, or miracle something up." Crowley looked at the bookshop door, a little thankful he didn't break it. He would never admit that, of course.

"Ngh..Anyway, I had an idea. About the party for the antichrist which is tomorrow, right?" The angel nodded. "That is correct, he turns eleven." "Mm, yea and you know the eleventh birthday, very serious for humans. Something about growing up to become the antichrist, and what not. It has to be very special, since you know, that's the day." Aziraphale furrowed his brow. "The day?" "You know, the day he becomes his fathers son!" "Oh! Right, what did you have in mind? I was going to have a little magic show myself for the boy-" "Listen, angel your magic..amazing and all, but you haven't practiced in years." Aziraphale stands up.