A Story by Peter Rogerson

If I was an angel of two thousand years ago I might, by now, be a bit peeved at what people suggest on an annual basis...


There’s one thing that gets me really fed up,” grunted Gabriel to the ring of nymphets sitting in a deliciously attractive ring at his feet and surrounding him with the delicious smell of oestrogen, “and that’s when they create that abortive collage of the dusky Mary and me just before she gets pregnant. I have no idea why she told them that story and rather suppose that she never did, but it rankles with me more than anything else in the eternity of the Universe does. The last thing I’d do is have underage sex with a scruffy little tart like she was let alone let her tell the world about it...”

Is that what they say you did?” asked Deadora, possibly his favourite amongst the ring of beauty that was spending the longest ever-after hanging on to his every word and teasing him by flicking their locks of beautiful hair in a way that the enormity of endless time had taught them he got most excited by. Not that their hair was all the fascinated him, but they could tell that, for the moment, he was troubled.

It’s their assumption,” grunted Gabriel, “it’s how the story has grown. It started with me (and this never happened) visiting her (I swear it didn’t) and telling her that my Master (I mean, do I have a master anyway?) had just impregnated her virginity and she was going to have (and this is plainly impossible) a baby son. I mean, back then they couldn’t even tell what gender the baby was going to be until it was born and certainly not at the time of the actual conception!”

You poor darling,” whispered Angelina, maybe his second favourite if she wasn’t favourite per se, “fancy being accused of doing something you didn’t have the pleasure of actually doing, and everyone knows how stonkingly virile you are and how much you like the ladies...”

Angelina, please,” purred Gabriel, “I know I’ve a teensy weensy little addiction to you ladies, all of you sweet little things, but coarse and fleshy humans with their sweaty armpits and smelly bits … it’s unthinkable!”

Why do you think they say it about you?” asked Janina, a particularly desirable spirit with sparkling eyes and a bewitching smile, stirring her left foot against his calf as though it was a totally accidental contact, knowing that he knew that it wasn't.

It’s the nonsense bit of human nature,” snorted Gabriel, “they seem to have evolved...”

Evolved?” queried Janina, interrupting he Lord and Master even though interruptions when Gabriel was full flood were never de rigueur.

Yes, sweetheart, evolved,” frowned Gabriel, “they did evolve, you know. There was a time when their antecedents were monkeys, for goodness’ sake! And before then amoeba even, single celled little morons with no brain. They hadn’t realised it at the time, though all the evidence was there, but it was going to take a few centuries for that evidence to mean anything sensible to them. No, they had pre-formed ideas, absurd notions invented round camp fires in the earliest days and told by hoary old gaffers who were high on a particular variety of mushroom among other things. And those weird tales somehow found their way along the corridors of time and they still believed that someone they refer as to my master created them in an orgy of stupidity, and here’s the rub, by using words only! And he did it in six short days, believe it or not, and not just them but everything under every sun, not that they knew that the stars were suns! It’s odd what men and women with what are really quite complex brains can fool themselves into believing.”

And they used your name in order to explain something they didn’t understand?” asked Angelina, reaching up and stroking his chest with the back of a languid hand and aware that he was smiling wistfully at her alone.

It was even more complex than that,” sighed Gabriel, “what had happened was they were, as a people, under the domination of an ever-growing empire and they didn’t like it, so when a man emerged who seemed willing to challenge the emperor’s man and got himself executed for his cheek they had to give him a back-story to keep rumour of him going. Don’t forget: there was no internet back then and news travelled slowly! It was no good just saying that a man who a couple of years earlier had been unheard of was worth rallying round, but if this same man had a magical birth and was executed for being good and right in everything he said, then he might be a symbol of rebellion because of his very honesty, and being dead that symbol could live on in underground places, and spread like the sort of cancer that it was...”

That’s harsh,” murmured Deadora, picking his naked toes with gentle fingers.

I don’t think it is,” countered Gabriel, “not when I’ve been treated as a sort of male prostitute for two thousand of their years! And every year they still tell the same sordid story, of me impregnating a s**t of a teenage harlot when everyone with a brain cell still working knows that it’s only a back story invented for a rather pathetic purpose and has no echo in the real world at all! For goodness’ sake, there was no virgin birth! It’s plain impossible! And if I had somehow managed to become the father then the baby would have been a girl! I’d have made sure of that much! I’ve always thought the future should be in female hands, not only here in this marvellous place where you beauties need stroking and fondling, but down there on that wretched and rather disgusting planet. Girls are so much better than brutish men. It’s the testosterone that ruins things.”

But you’re a gorgeous male,” tinkled Tinkerbelle from her junior place at the back of the circle.

Not quite,” replied Gabriel soberly, “not quite at all. Check the word androgynous next time you get a dictionary in your hands because I’m proud to say I’m one of those...”

That’s wonderful!” laughed Janina, “so you could have been father and mother! That would have made it a much better story!”

And the baby,” said Gabriel loftily, “could have been twins. One of each. That would have given them something really special to fantasise about!”

One of each?” asked Janina innocently, “you mean triplets? Think of the beliefs that could have triggered!

I could always arrange it,” murmured Gabriel darkly.

© Peter Rogerson 23.12.17

© 2017 Peter Rogerson

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Added on December 23, 2017
Last Updated on December 23, 2017
Tags: Gabriel, nymphets, story, anger, prostitution, back-story


Peter Rogerson
Peter Rogerson

Mansfield, Nottinghamshire, United Kingdom

I am 78 years old, but as a single dad with four children that I had sole responsibility for I found myself driving insanity away by writing. At first it was short stories (all lost now, unfortunately.. more..