For Randi--Good Omens

"Well go on. Try them."

The angel put the contraband sunglasses on and it felt so right, like they belonged on his face. It took a bit of effort to take them off again and hand them back to the stranger; it really was too bad that they wouldn't be invented for at least another millennia.

"No, no, keep them. They look good on you." The stranger smiled -- rather unpleasantly -- at the ill-concealed glee on the angel's face. He put an arm around the angel's shoulder. "Now, my boy, let me tell you about something called the automobile."