Good omens 2.5

Living room floor activities

Once you drink one bottle of rank whiskey the quality of the rest doesn't matter. This will be Crowley's 6th bottle of liquor tonight but demons don't get drunk the same way humans do. A single bottle of 90 proof liquor consumed in a timely manner would cause an adult human man alcohol poisoning. And multiple bottles in a night would be a death wish. Demons, however, take 3-4 times as much alcohol to feel the same effects and the duration of that state lasts half as long. 6 bottles of hard liquor over the course of a night is still very much over doing it for a demon.

Crowley is most certainly plastered. He made it to his flat, just barely. He threw up in the hall and woke up most of his neighbors, stumbling and bumping into their walls. The living room floor is as far as he made it. He slides down the wall to form a demon puddle. He's feeling right sorry for himself. The car had turned itself yellow again, outside.

The words Crowley is sputtering are near incomprehensible but he what he thinks he's saying is, "too good for hell. Too evil for heaven. It's terribly lonely being on your own side. Thought I found a team mate. A partner, if you will. Guess not!" He looks at the small white bottle in his hand. It would be so easy. So so easy, just undo the cap and down the hatch. There would be no more pain. There wouldn't even be a hell or heaven after, completely and utterly destroyed.

He thinks of when he tricked hell into believing he couldn't be destroyed by holy water. Zira has switched places with him and saved his neck. Zira was also in so much trouble. Those horrible angels were going to kill him and it was Crowley's fault, really. If he could have just left the angel of the eastern gate alone he would have never lost his righteous path and been sentenced to extinction by hell fire.

Crowley believes that every unholy thing Aziraphale ever did was because of his temptations. Crowley could say the agreement was just to make his life easier but that would be a lie. The real reason was that he needed an excuse to be around the angel.

Drunks tend to think aloud. "I'm not safe foe him 'd I know he's bettah off without meh. Doubt. Doubtsssss thas wot I sewed in 'im. Awful good, awful- thinking for yourselfs b-b-but  blessed dangerousss thing fo an angel. Doubt. Whew! It con cause yah to fall. Ques- questions caussse yah to. Bad luck, tha' is. 'e's be bettah off witthhhout me in t'way." He nods to himself.

Crowley turns the small bottle over in his hand. He's much less careful with it than before. His head feels so heavy, like it's made of lead. He throws it back against the wall. "Bastards." He says matter-of-factly. "Thasss wot youse all ore! Ohhhhh princcccipality- er, no." He puts on a deep voice, "Archangel Aziraphale," he mocks but his heart hurts after saying his name. "Why? Why'd da leave me?" Crowley swallows hard. "It jusss innt fair, angel. Us. Me! 'M the one eho loves ya! Not those wiiinged asshatsss! Sorry- I'm so, so, ssso sorry. 'Ever it was I did, I'm sorry." He thinks for a second, "I know. I know belsssed well wot it is I'd done." He stares at the ceiling for a minute resting his head on the cool wall. He's think of the night sky- the nebula. "Any-who, s'been nice, angel," he holds up his bottle as if raising his hand, "cheers  'd amen!"

***
Hi, yet again sorry for the drunk dialogue. Hope you're enjoying the read. Cheers.