Conversation

"So what exactly do you want me to do about this?" she was asking.

"Ach, ye beldame," muttered Shadwell. She had one of her gentlemen callers in there, obviously.

"To be frank, dear lady, my plans at this point are perforce somewhat fluid."

Shadwell's blood ran cold. He marched through the bead curtain, shouting, "The sins of Sodom an' Gomorrah! Takin' advantage of a defenseless hour! Over my dead body!"

Madame Tracy looked up, and smiled at him. There wasn't anyone else in the room.

"Whurrizee?" asked Shadwell.

"Whom?" asked Madame Tracy.

"Some Southern pansy," he said, "I heard him. He was in here, suggestin' things to yer. I heard him."

Madame Tracy's mouth opened, and a voice said, "Not just A Southern Pansy, Sergeant Shadwell. THE Southern Pansy."

Shadwell dropped his cigarette. He stretched out his arm, shaking slightly, and pointed his hand at Madame Tracy.

"Demon," he croaked.

"No," said Madame Tracy, in the voice of the demon. "Now, I know what you're thinking, Sergeant Shadwell. You're thinking that any second now this head is going to go round and round, and I'm going to start vomiting pea soup. Well, I'm not. I'm not a demon. And I'd like you to listen to what I have to say. "

"Daemonspawn, be silent," ordered Shadwell. "I'll no listen to yer wicked lies. Do yer know what
this is? It's a hand. Four fingers. One thumb. It's already exorcised one of yer number this morning. Now get ye out of this gud wimmin's head, or I'll blast ye to kingdom come."

"That's the problem, Mr. Shadwell," said Madame Tracy in her own voice. "Kingdom come. It's going to. That's the problem. Mr. Aziraphale has been telling me all about it. Now stop being an old silly, Mr. Shadwell, sit down, and have some tea, and he'll explain it to you as well."

"I'll ne'r listen tae his hellish blandishments, woman," said Shadwell.

Madame Tracy smiled at him. "You old silly, " she said.

He could have handled anything else.

He sat down.

But he didn't lower his hand.

***

Good Omens - Saturday