September's recommendation: Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
Good god is this book funny.
So, there's this apocalypse coming. Like it says in Revelations. With an Antichrist and all that. Only they accidentally misplaced the Antichrist. "They," in this instance, being the angel and the demon assigned to make sure this all goes the way it's supposed to. Bit of an "oops" there. So it's, like, four days to the apocalypse, and they're running around Britain trying to find the Antichrist, while the situation keeps being complicated by showers of fish and Satanic nuns and professional descendants of very crazy prophetesses (okay, only one of those, or rather two, that is, one crazy prophetess, one professional descendant).
I cannot begin to write a recommendation funny enough to do justice to this book, but writing a serious one is impossible.
Maybe it will help if I give the full title:
GOOD OMENS: A Narrative of Certain Events occurring in the last eleven years of human history, in strict accordance as shall be shewn with:
The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter
Compiled and edited, with Footnotes of an Educational Nature and Precepts for the Wise, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
They're not kidding about the footnotes. Thanks to them, I know that the road to hell is not actually paved with good intentions, but rather frozen door-to-door salesmen, and that on weekends some of the younger demons go ice-skating on them. Elsewhere you may find an extended dissertation regarding how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, a history of the Chattering Order of St. Beryl (see above on Satanic nuns), and the fact that the Earth's a Libra. There are hell-hounds and fallen angels and krakens and the Four Horsepersons of the Apocalypse (now mounted on motorcycles, for modern convenience). Everything a good and well-rounded Armageddon needs.
I like Neil Gaiman's work; I like Terry Pratchett's. But I like this one book they did together better than I like anything they did separately. It's got Pratchett's insane whimsy, grounded in Gaiman's solid story, but of course Pratchett is not incapable of solidity, and Gaiman not incapable of whimsy, such that the two of them work together brilliantly, like some kind of chemical reaction that produces a result greater than any of its ingredients.