Crowley groaned as he awoke. For a moment, he had absolutely no idea where he was, but then remembered that he was in a small town in Mississippi, Chata- or Casta- or Pasta- or something along those lines. When he looked in the rear-view mirror of his car which was his car, not some cheap rental he'd picked up on this Go- Sa- Someone forsaken trip, he found that there was a large pile of alcohol bottles in the back seat. Not wine bottles mind you, but the sort that had at one point contained the sort of hard liquor that one generally only consumed with the intention of becoming completely smashed.
He blinked as he tried to think of a reason for why the bottles were there and came up with a blank. The last thing he could remember was riling up some squirrel in a box that some boy was dragging to church, hoping to cause a bit of mischief and anticipating the screams, and the shouts and the general ill will that the congregants would be leaving in that day as a little boy was likely dragged out of the building by his ear by the local pastor.
That pile of booze bottles didn't look like detritus from his usual celebrations of a job well done, in fact the last time he'd seen a pile that large had been after...
He figured that it was time to find the angel, and get the heck out of here before someone tried to pin something on him, deserved or not. Blessing under his breath as he got completely lost three times in his hung-over state, he searched for Aziraphale who'd come along for the brief vacation which was the perfect excuse to close up shop and not run the risk of selling any of his collection for a couple of months.
He found the angel at the local bus station standing in the middle of a large crowd that was giving a group of about fifty people or so a large and somewhat festive send off.
"It's a pity you have that little church problem." Aziraphale said brightly when he joined him in the midst of the townspeople who were wishing a sizable group luck with their missionary work in Africa. "You missed a most wonderful service."
"Really?" he asked, not in the least bit interested.
"Yes, the entire congregation reaffirmed their faith, were re-baptized, donated over twenty-six thousand dollars to the church, and vowed to do good works, starting with these fifty volunteers here." Aziraphale said cheerfully as he waved to the last of the people who were boarding the bus.
"How the bloody hell did that happen?" Crowley asked startled, as the entire congregation of that church had pretty much been firmly in Hell's clutches last Sunday.
"I'm not entirely sure." Aziraphale replied as the last of the missionaries boarded the bus. "But I believe that a squirrel was involved."
"Oh...damn." Crowley groaned as he slunk back towards his car. He was screwed. He was beyond screwed. They were probably inventing some new sort of torment down in the Pit to use on him.
He sat down in the driver's seat and slammed his head into the steering wheel a few times before switching on his radio, hoping to find some good music to calm his nerves.
Earth Angel, Earth Angel, will you be CROWLEY! YOU HAVE ALOT TO ANSWER FOR, AND YOU'D BETTER HAVE A GOOD EXPLANATION.
Author's note: The Ray Stevens song The Mississippi Squirrel Revival is absolutely hilarious, you should check it out if you get the chance.