A proper, winged, Principality and a sunglass donning demon sat together on a bench near The Ritz, feeding pigeons. Well, other birds too (any that landed down within reach of their bread), but mostly pigeons. they had sat in prim and proper silence for the most part of their outing, although now Crowley, the demon, though it was necessary to break the silence. 'Perhaps' he thought to himself, 'with a joke'.
"Why does a moon-rock taste better than a rock from Earth?" He asked the angel, or Aziraphale, as that was his name. The angel paused, thinking, with pure intent on finding the answer to the joke.
"I'm not sure." he finally said, sounding defeated since he could not complete even that task. It was just a joke for goodness's sake, surely he could figure it out.
"Duh," the demon began, pausing a moment in order to draw suspense (but really, the angel did not want suspense, he wanted the answer to the riddle), "because it's a little meteor." the elongated silence droned on endlessly for a few more moments before the demon Crowley could not deal with it any longer. "Ba-dum tshh." he grinned at the principality (though commonly just called an angel, nobody gives two cents about the proper names any more).
"Tell another." Aziraphale replied, "I will get it this time." the 'angel' prepared himself for another joke, driving himself up with wishful thinking that the joke said would be one that he'd already heard. Then, if he could only rack his brain to find it, it would be as good as gold. Crowley took a couple of moments to think of another one (although not as long as the first, after all, the demon may or may not have a stash of dumb jokes in his mind for moments like this. Although they are usually to make himself feel superior, not to help his Principality friend feel as though he gets earthling 21st century humor.)
"What did the fish say when he ran into a wall?"
"What kind of fish?" Aziraphale said, trying to figure out if there was a trick to the jest.
"It doesn't matter." replied the demon, raising one eyebrow slightly.
"Is it a trick?" murmured the angel, think that perhaps it is nothing. As fish do not really speak.
"No, it's an honest to G-frick answer." the demon Crowley said, accidently letting loose the first syllables of the angel Aziraphale lord's name, which burned like holy fire as it danced across his skin.
"Nothing odd?"
"No siree!"
"uhh-good grace… I wish that I knew." the angel said, frowning slightly and wavering slowly towards the demon on the other side of the bench. "You'll have to ask me another one sometime." continued the angel, starting to smile once again (as he usually did).
"Yeah, some other time." replied the demon, "the answer was 'dam'."
"By Jove!" cried the angel, "I could never get that! Why, the answer is a curse word!"
"It's not a curse word." replied the demon. He shook his head 'no'. "It's got like water and stuff." the man said, trying to describe what exactly a dam was without making the angel 'grace cautious'. They departed a couple of minutes later, after making a date for when Crowley would ask the Angel more riddles and, once they (or, mostly Aziraphale) finished feeding the assorted birds. Crowley also made a racist joke about a very 'dashing' (as Aziraphale called him) young man.
The demon departed first and headed South towards his small abode so that he could sit in his chair at his desk and feel and look professional. Aziraphale continued to sit at the bench, after going back into the Ritz to go get some more bread.