Bingo!

"Oh my god, who FUCKING CARES?!"

Both philosophers shut up, and for the first time in hours, a silence falls over the pond.

"Did that duck just talk?" Ernesto asked.

"Do you mean if we perceived the duck as talking or-" Lily began, before being interrupted by the same duck flapping its wings.

"No! No more of that bullshit! Yes, I'm a talking duck. We immortals occasionally take vacations in the forms of lesser beings, but after hours of deciding if I'm a duck or not, you've got me wishing for death. So I figured, I'd just tell you and you can shut up. Yes, I am a duck. Go the fuck home."

"But you just said you were an immortal in the form of a duck!" Lily exclaimed, raising a finger in the air. "Therefore, you are-"

"Ducks can't talk. I hate to say this but I agree with Lily." Ernesto nodded.

The duck slapped its forehead with a wing, demonstrating a surprising amount of range of motion. "Okay. Great. You got me. You're in agreement. Go home. This is my pond."

"But..."

"NO BUTS!" The duck screamed, throwing its wings back.

"BUT... if you're in the form of a duck, the shape of a duck, and swim like a duck, you are indistinguishable from a duck and therefore a duck!" Lily said.

"No, not at all. Ducks don't talk. He is just in the form of a duck. If he wanted to be something else, he wouldn't be a duck, and so he isn't a duck." Ernesto replied.

The duck sighed, perhaps the first time in the entirety of world history that a duck sighed, and the two witnesses were more concerned with whether the duck was a duck. The realization of this caused him to sigh again. "I will shapeshift again if it will get you to go away. Then I won't be a duck anymore."

"Don't you dare shapeshift, we're trying to have a discussion here about whether an indistinguishable object by all standards of perception would truly be the object if it later ceased to-" Lily started.

"I would actually kind of like to see the shapeshifting." Ernesto muttered.

The duck dove under the water and bubbles started forming. After a few moments, a large crocodile rose from the depths and snapped at Lily's feet. The philosophers screamed and ran.

"You can come out, they're gone now." The crocodile gurgled. The duck from before rose from the depths.

"Thank god. Some humans will believe anything."

Thank you!

"If man is forced to be good, then there is no free will."

"That doesn't explain why you taped my husband to his office chair."

"Well, he's possessed by an angel."

I continued wrapping the duct tape around him as I spoke, up until the 6 foot tall bearded man was nowhere to be seen under a pile of silver mummy wrappings. I handed my card to his distressed husband. "Name's Petunia, from the church of freedom from oppression. Been in the business for a long time."

He stared at the card, looked up at me, and glared. "What? We're Buddhists. Why would anyone be possessed by an angel? Besides, I have a feeling God takes offense to our lifestyle."

I shook my head and dug a novelty pepper shaker out of my bag, a fat cartoon chef with holes in his hat, faded with age. "I'm going to shake this dust over your husband and I'll be off."

"What's in it?"

"Well it was once grave dust but some scientists figured out what the part was that angels don't like about it, extracted it, and concentrated it. We call it angel mace. Won't hurt humans."

A white lie. Humans had varying reactions to angel mace over a certain threshold, most of which were unpleasant. But not fatal, at least I'd never seen one. I dumped the shaker over his head and gave it three good shakes. The tied up husband began to convulse as light leaked through the duct tape.

"What the-"

"Oh boy it's a big one. Small ones don't glow like that." I grumbled, and unscrewed the top of the shaker. Some angels took a few extra shakes. For this one, I dumped the whole thing.

"STOP" a voice boomed as an amalgamation of wings and eyes split the tape and fell onto the floor with a wet thud. "I YIELD"

I took a long, black rod out from my bag, pressed it into the angel on the floor, and pushed the button. The wings convulsed.

"Is that some sort of anti angel taser?" the concerned husband asked.

"No its just a regular stun baton, they work pretty well against naked angels. Shoo, you, get out of here." As I prodded the angel, the wings folded out of the air and the eyes closed. Soon, there was no trace of it.

"Did you just kill an angel?" The husband asked.

"I wish. Probably ruined its weekend though. Never seen one die before. Anyway, I trust that was the proof you needed. I'll be off now."

A muffled grunt made us turn towards the duct tape mummy, still in the office chair.

"My mistake, almost forgot." I got the trauma shears from my belt and started working on freeing the host. "Third one today, last one was a screamer. Brain's a little fried. Anyway, you were possessed by an angel for the last... couple years. I'd ease back into your old life slowly. Sounds like you married this guy; he'll be able to tell you what's going on. I have a bus to catch."

I removed the duct tape from the bound man's mouth, and heard something I'd never heard before. Usually, they scream, curse me out, or threaten me. "Behind you!" he screamed hoarsely.

I spun around just in time to see his husband sneaking up on me with a hand outstretched, clutching a strange herb. Fuck. I was going to miss my bus.

"That was the strongest angel I've seen in a while. You have some talent." I said, stalling for time. The stun baton lay on the floor about ten feet away in my bag, completely useless.

"God is good." The husband said, and the herb glowed brighter. I'd never seen one of those up close before. Staring into its light, I could hear a cacophony of voices start to force its way into my head. Remembering my training, I glanced down to my belt. Nothing, except for an empty pepper shaker. An empty, heavy porcelain pepper shaker in the shape of a fat chef. It would do. I took a step forward into the light and clubbed the husband across the face with the shaker. He stumbled a bit, and as the previously tied up man stuck out a leg to trip him, he fell onto the plant. The light engulfed him.

"We need to go. Bringing it close to you possesses you. If you just lie on top of it I don't know what's going to happen." I pulled the tied up man up to his feet, grabbed my bag, and drew out a brown paper package, pressing a red button on the side and sticking it on top of the convulsing husband.

"What's in the package? That angel mace stuff you used on me or some sort of a pulse grenade?"

"Pulse grenade? No, that's five sticks of dynamite on a 30 second timer. We need to go."

We ran outside and threw ourselves into the bushes as the house exploded behind us.

"Let me guess, angels are tough but scientists discovered it takes five sticks of dynamite to kill one?"

"Kill one? No, the dynamite was to destroy the plant. An angel in a host's body is much stronger. That much would only slow it down. Going to need to call in backup for this one."