"You know what you're eating, don't you?" asked Crowley.

Aziraphale looked up from his bowl, tapping the colorful cereal box next to him. "They're called Lucky Charms, I believe."

"Do you know what's in them?"

Aziraphale was well aware that they weren't the healthiest things to be consumed. But he was also quite aware that he was a celestial being whose body was only a mere vessel. If any harm came to it, he could always get another one. And while someone else, mainly Gabriel, might tut at him for being wasteful and careless, the angel didn't see the harm in eating an occasional, sweet breakfast.

"Yes, it is all sugar and air," agreed the angel, fishing out a green four leaf clover-shaped marshmallow to swallow. Those were really the best tasting. "But they are ever so good."

Crowley eyed the milk in Aziraphale's bowl that was turning an interesting multi-colored hue. "You WISH it was all sugar and air."

Aziraphale paused, his spoon holding a red balloon and a purple horseshoe, was suspended halfway up its journey to his mouth. "What ever do you mean? It's marshmallows and oat bran."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but marshmallows don't naturally come in rainbow-colored options, angel," said Crowley, gravely. "It's food dye. Specifically, the food dye used by the company that makes your precious Charms, comes from a fairly successful company by the name of Ordet-Hume."

"I don't see what this has to do with-"

"The executive board at Ordet-Hume," Crowley continued, loudly. "Is made up of six board members. There's Mr. Gibbons who's been there for 25 years, has a lovely summer home in the South of France that his wife of 40 years doesn't know about. Mainly because he takes his 21 year old boyfriend there for a good ol' round of sodomy every year."

"If you're going to be rude, Crowley, you can finish your breakfast elsewhere."

"I'm not being rude, it's the truth!" Crowley insisted. "And there's Mr. Thomas. He just had the company buy up several housing areas, mainly afforded to the local orphanages and animal shelters, and tore them down in order to build the new factories. And Mrs. Wendell-Harper. She used her seven figure salary to pay a man to talk to her husband."

Aziraphale frowned. "Why would she need to pay a man to speak to her husband?"

Crowley shrugged. "Who knows? But said husband was cheating on her. And the man in question had a few bags of concrete in the boot of his car so you can draw your own conclusions."

"I'm sure you're coming to some sort of point," Aziraphale commented as he shoved another saccharine spoonful into his mouth. The much loved taste didn't do much to cease the images of crying children and injured puppies that now floated in his mind.

"My point is that the company of Ordet-Hume, which makes the gallons of food dye and chemicals you need in order for these tasty Charms to exist, is run by less than savory characters. So to get back to my first question and its answer, angel, is that you are currently eating man's sins in a bowl."

Aziraphale stopped his chewing and looked down at his breakfast. A few marshmallows, a few pink hearts and several blue moons stared up at him with accusing, evil glares. The angel swallowed, none to easily.

"And I haven't even gotten into where they dump the excess chemicals they don't use," Crowley added with a snake-like grin.

Glumly, Aziraphale pushed the mostly consumed cereal away with a sigh. "You're getting back at me for making you eat that Fair Trade chocolate bar, aren't you?"