Yes," said the angel, whose name was Aziraphale."I think it was a bit of an overreaction, to be honest," said the serpent. I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil, anyway.""It must be bad," reasoned Aziraphale, in the slightly concerned tones of one who can't see it either, and is worrying about it, "otherwise you wouldn't have been involved.""They just said, Get up there and make some trouble," said the serpent, whose name was Crawly, although he was thinking of changing it now.
But clouds massing east of Eden suggested that the first thunderstorm was on its way, and it was going to be a big one.
Makes you wonder what He's really planning.""Best not to speculate, really," said Aziraphale.
"You can't second-guess ineffability, I always say. If you do Wrong when you're told to do Right, you deserve to be punished. "If you must know," he said, a trifle testily, "I gave it away."Crawly stared up at him."Well, I had to," said the angel, rubbing his hands distractedly.
It should have been, but that's the weather for you. If Bruce Springsteen had ever recorded "Born to Lurk," these two would have been on the album cover. It had pointed to zero for more than sixty years now. On the back seat the thing in the basket began to cry; the air‑raid siren wail of the newly born.
For every mad scientist who's had a convenient thunderstorm just on the night his Great Work is finished and lying on the slab, there have been dozens who've sat around aimlessly under the peaceful stars while Igor clocks up the overtime. They had been lurking in the fog for an hour now, but they had been pacing themselves and could lurk for the rest of the night if necessary, with still enough sullen menace left for a final burst of lurking around dawn.