by Neil Gaiman
WENSLEYDALE
But you are actually a girl, Pepper.
PEPPER
That’s just sexist. Giving people girly presents, because they’re girls.
She waves her sword to make her point. Adam now looks intent, almost preternatural, as he says, with conviction:
ADAM
I want. A dog.
Hell-hound’s POV: Adam. Only Adam is important. We hear a back-of-the-throat growling. And it’s coming closer.
PEPPER
Oh, right. And your mum and dad are going to get you a big old rottenwiler then, Adam?
ADAM
I don’t want a big dog.
CLOSE UP on the hell-hound. It tips its monstrous head on one side, and looks puzzled . . .
ADAM (CONT’D)
I want the kind of dog you can have fun with. A little dog.
From the hell-hound’s POV, a sudden lurch DOWNWARDS. As if something huge has shrunk.
ADAM (CONT’D)
I want a dog that’s brilliantly intelligent and can go down rabbit holes, and I can teach it tricks.
A rumble of thunder. Our view is obscured . . .
ADAM (CONT’D)
And it has to have one funny ear that always looks inside out.
CLOSE UP on former hell-hound: now a small black-and-white mongrel with a comically puzzled expression. There’s a POP, and its ear turns inside out.
ADAM (CONT’D)
And I’ll call him . . .
The former hell-hound looks dangerous. Its eyes glow red. It dribbles onto the ground, and the dribble steams.
GOD (V.O.)
And this is the moment. The naming. This will give it its purpose, its function, its identity. This is the moment that sets Armageddon in motion.
The hell-hound growls, the sort of growl that starts in the back of one’s throat and ends up in someone else’s.
ADAM
I think I’ll call him Dog. Saves a lot of trouble, a name like that.
The red glow in the dog’s eyes goes out. And the tail starts slowly to wag.
PEPPER
And what, this Dog’s just going to turn up?
ADAM
Maybe. Here boy! Come on!
And bounding out of the trees, happy and obedient, tail wagging, yipping with delight, comes Dog. And Adam is in heaven . . .
1104INT. AZIRAPHALE’S BOOKSHOP, BACK ROOM – DAY
In the back room: Crowley and Aziraphale are comparing notes. Aziraphale is pouring them whiskies.
CROWLEY
Armageddon is days away and we’ve lost the Antichrist. Why did the powers of Hell have to drag me into this anyway?
AZIRAPHALE
Don’t quote me on this, but I’m pretty sure it’s because you kept sending them all those memos saying how amazingly well you were doing.
CROWLEY
Is it my fault they never check up? I’m to blame they never check up? Everyone stretches the truth a bit in memos to head office, you know that.
AZIRAPHALE
Yes, but you told them you invented the Spanish Inquisition, and started the Second World War, and . . .
CROWLEY
So humans beat me to it. That’s not my fault.
Crowley looks up, as if he’s hearing something. Crowley looks startled. A spectral growl echoes through the bookshop.
CROWLEY (CONT’D)
Something’s changed.
AZIRAPHALE
It’s a new cologne. My barber suggested . . .
CROWLEY
Not you. I know what you smell like.
Crowley looks agitated.
CROWLEY (CONT’D)
The hell-hound has found its master.
AZIRAPHALE
You sure?
CROWLEY
I felt it. Would I lie to you?
AZIRAPHALE
Obviously. You’re a demon. That’s what you do.
CROWLEY
I’m not lying. The boy, wherever he is, has the dog. He’s coming into his power. We’re doomed.
Aziraphale lifts his glass.
AZIRAPHALE
Well then. Welcome to the end times.
And we . . .
FADE TO BLACK.
1105
Over end credits, Buddy Holly’s ‘Everyday’, done by a boys’ choir, in the style of Carmina Burana.
Episode Two
The Book
201EXT. LONDON, SOHO – DAY
TITLE CARD: SOHO, LONDON
TITLE CARD: THURSDAY
TITLE CARD: TWO DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD
Two people are walking through a Soho street towards Aziraphale’s bookshop.
202INT. AZIRAPHALE’S BOOKSHOP, MAIN SPACE – DAY – PRESENT DAY
There are a couple of browsing customers. And as Aziraphale comes in from the back, the doorbell dings.
AZIRAPHALE
Can I help you?
It’s Gabriel, and his thuggish angelic number two, Sandalphon.
GABRIEL
(loudly)
I would like to purchase one of your material objects.
Sandalphon corrects him.
SANDALPHON
Books.
GABRIEL
Books. Let us discuss my purchase in a private place. Because I am buying, er . . .
SANDALPHON
Pornography?
GABRIEL
(proudly and loudly)
Pornography.
He picks up an (obviously not pornographic) vintage book. Aziraphale sees Crowley through the window, out on the pavement, heading for his car.
AZIRAPHALE
Gabriel. Sandalphon. Please, come into my back room.
Sandalphon adds, for the benefit of any customers who had missed it . . .
SANDALPHON
We humans are extremely easily embarrassed. We must buy our pornography secretively.
203INT. AZIRAPHALE’S BACK ROOM – DAY
Sandalphon stands by the door, like a guard. Gabriel smiles charmingly.
GABRIEL
Human beings are so simple, and so easily fooled.
AZIRAPHALE
Yes. Good job. You fooled them all.
He looks at the copy of Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management that Gabriel brought in and is unimpressed.
GABRIEL
You remember Sandalphon?
AZIRAPHALE
Sodom and Gomorrah. You were doing a lot of smiting, and turning people into salt. Hard to forget.
Sandalphon grins, pleased with itself. Then it sniffs the air.
SANDALPHON
Something smells . . . evil . . .
AZIRAPHALE
That’ll be the Jeffrey Archer books, I’m afraid.
GABRIEL
Just came by to talk about the status of the Antichrist . . .
AZIRAPHALE
Why? What’s wrong? I mean, if something’s wrong I can put my people onto it—
GABRIEL
Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s going perfectly. There’s a lot happening. All good.
AZIRAPHALE
All good?
GABRIEL
It’s all going according to the divine plan. The hell-hound was set loose. Now the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse are being summoned. War, Famine, Pollution and Death.
AZIRAPHALE
Oh. Right. Who exactly summons them?
GABRIEL
Not my department. I believe that sort of thing is outsourced.
SANDALPHON
About time. That’s what I say. You can’t have a war without War.
GABRIEL
I say, Sandalphon, that’s rather good. You can’t have a war without War. I may use that. Anyway. No problems? How was the hell-hound?
AZIRAPHALE
I didn’t stick around to see.
But Gabriel is already bored. He gets up and opens the door.
GABRIEL
(loudly)
Thank you so much for my pornography.
(
to Aziraphale)
Excellent job.
(to Sandalphon)
‘You can’t have a war without WAR.’ That’s so clever.
204INT. WAR ZONE HOTEL – DAY
We are in a war-zone press conference space, looking at hard-bitten war reporter ANFORTH, looking at a copy of the National World Weekly. He snorts, passes it to MURCHISON, who grins, shakes his head, passes it to Ms. VAN HORNE.
GOD (V.O.)
This is the National World Weekly. A typical issue would tell the world how Elvis Presley was recently sighted working in a Burger Lord in Des Moines; how the spate of werewolves infesting the Midwest are the offspring of noble pioneer women raped by Bigfoot; and that Elvis Presley was taken by Space Aliens in 1976 because he was too good for this world. It does not need a war correspondent. And yet it has one . . .
MURCHISON
How the hell does she do it? It’s like she knows where war’s going to break out before any of us.
VAN HORNE
It’s a good thing they never print her stories. She’d be a shoe-in for a Pulitzer if they had . . .
MURCHISON
I know. Her piece on the Sudan was amazing.
A male Western army OFFICER enters to brief everyone.
OFFICER
Thank you so much for waiting. Well, I don’t think any of you need background on the conflict. For several years now, Masiwea has been the subject of an intense border conflict with the PLA on the one hand and the Delirian Homeland on the other. Thousands of people on all sides have lost their lives. Hundreds of thousands have lost their homes. And the United Nations, and the Pan-African Conference, have worked diligently to foster talks and a willingness to see the other side.
Everyone = half a dozen hardbitten war reporters, male and female. Everyone looks grungy, unwashed, seedy. It’s hot and sweaty.
During the talk War walks in. Everybody looks up. She’s more alive than anyone else, perfectly dressed and looking completely unaffected by the heat.
OFFICER (CONT’D)
So, informally, I’m very happy to be able to announce that the peace treaty will be signed in two weeks’ time.Any questions?
War raises her hand. Everyone, male and female, is transfixed. Every tiny noise she makes is SUPER LOUD. She’s the only thing that matters. Everyone there is very aware of her.
OFFICER (CONT’D)
Yes, Ms . . . you’re from the . . .
WAR
Carmine Zingiber. National World Weekly. I was just wondering where the peace treaty is going to be signed?
OFFICER
Classified. We don’t want anybody interfering with the peace process.
WAR
Well, of course not. You definitely wouldn’t want that.
205INT. CROWLEY’S FLAT – DAY
TITLE CARD: THE PRESENT DAY.
Crowley’s flat is perfect. It’s very white, and looks unlived in. Everything is perfect. The only things that seem even better than perfect are the potted plants, which are lush.
Crowley walks into the lounge. Elegant TV.
He nods and it turns on: morning television. A MAN and a WOMAN on a sofa, smiling at us.
MORNING TV PRESENTER
And after the news, the government’s foreign affairs spokesman will be here to comment on the recent increase in international tension.
(beat)
But first, do you know what’s in your fridge?
And then there’s a crackling, and now the couple on the sofa are Hastur and Ligur, broadcasting straight from Hell.
HASTUR
Morning, Crowley.
LIGUR
Just checking in. Nice sofa.
CROWLEY
Hi, guys.
LIGUR
It’s about the Antichrist.
CROWLEY
Yeah. Great kid. Takes after his dad.
HASTUR
Our operatives in the state department have arranged for the child’s family to be flown to the Middle East.
LIGUR
There he and the hell-hound will be taken to the valley of Megiddo.
HASTUR
The Four Horsemen will begin their final ride. Armageddon will begin.
CROWLEY
(unenthusiastically)
Hurrah.
HASTUR
The final combat. It’s what we have been working towards since we rebelled. We are the fallen. Never forget that.
CROWLEY
It’s not the kind of thing that you forget.
HASTUR
. . . I don’t trust you, Crowley.
CROWLEY
Well, obviously. We’re demons.
LIGUR
I’ve been reading your report on CIA torture practices. And the one from the Spanish Inquisition. If anything goes wrong, it’s going to be one from column A, one from column B, repeat until squishy.
CROWLEY
Everything’s going just fine.
Ligur and Hastur vanish, replaced by the TV hosts.
MORNING TV WOMAN
And now, over to Jessica for this morning’s weather.
Crowley makes the screen go blank.
CROWLEY
I didn’t fall. I didn’t mean to fall. I just hung around the wrong people.
206EXT. WAR ZONE – DAY
A van drives up a dirt track towards a town somewhere in North Africa.
GOD (V.O.)
Somebody has to summon the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. But they outsource that sort of thing these days.
The van stops and we see THE INTERNATIONAL EXPRESS MAN.
GOD (V.O.)
Meet the summoner. He has four items to deliver in his van. He works for the International Express Company, and he’s about to make his first delivery in a former war zone.
207INT. WAR-ZONE HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM – DAY
We are in a hotel conference room. Three long tables, arranged in a triangle. There are three groups of people here. Each table has three people at it: a MINISTER and two ASSISTANTS. And behind the people, on chairs, are their BODYGUARDS. Also a PHOTOGRAPHER. I’ll call these groups green, blue and brown. Also the army officer we saw at the press conference. One group might be Iraq, one Iran, one Saudi, or one Indian, one Burmese and one Chinese – it doesn’t matter, as long as we feel they are from different neighbouring cultures, and we subtly colour-code them.
They look happy and at ease . . .
GOD (V.O.)
Sometimes, despite everything, peace breaks out. People get tired of fighting and pain and death, and are willing to start all over again.
GREEN MINISTER
And now?
OFFICER
Now you just . . . sign the peace treaty.
Door opens, and War comes in. Bodyguard guns come out.
WAR
Guys, please. I’m not dangerous . . .
Pats herself down. No weapons . . .
BROWN MINISTER
Who are you?
WAR
Carmine Zingiber. National World Weekly. War correspondent.
GREEN MINISTER
The Bigfoot newspaper? Is that still in business?
BROWN MINISTER
I read the story about Elvis Presley being taken by Space Aliens. I did not find it entirely credible.
BLUE MINISTER
More credible than the one that said he was frying hamburgers in a diner.
OFFICER
(to War)
How did you find out this was here?
WAR
I’ve been killing time. You learn things.
GREEN MINISTER
It is good, my friend. Good that there is a member of the world’s press to see us sign the peace accord. It has taken many years, but I believe that today will be remembered as the day that war between our countries ended for ever.
They all agree. War is suppressing a smile.
WAR
Oh, I’m sorry. That’s so sweet. Don’t mind me. You just carry on.
; OFFICER
If you would like to sign it first, your Highness, then the Prime Minister, then the Supreme Leader, and then we’ll get a photograph of the three of you together.
The Brown Minister picks up the pen and the accord . . .
GREEN MINISTER
He signs first?
BROWN MINISTER
It’s just a formality who signs first.