Former Supreme Archangel Gabriel dishes about life after Heaven and honeymooning among the stars*
Talk about supremely supreme! Fresh faced and grinning as he sits down for a post-photoshoot chat, this author can easily understand why Gabriel arouses such admiration amongst our readers. His fluffy, floor-length Covert Chanel coat does nothing to distract from the six feet of well-built angel underneath, but the cup of cocoa he’s holding suggests that he might indeed have a sweet side. Before he’s even opened his mouth, his enthusiasm is palpable, as is his air of raw, magnetic charisma.
WINGZ: Hello, Gabriel! So nice of you to—
GABRIEL: Well, hi!
WINGZ: Hi. So—
GABRIEL: It’s actually Jimbriel now.
WINGZ: How interesting. Where does the name Jimbriel come from?
JIMBRIEL: I used to go by Gabriel. Well, Supreme Archangel of All Heaven aka Gabriel. And then I went by Jim, which is short for James, but also short for Gabriel. And Beez, they—
WINGZ: Is that Beelzebub, former Prince of Hell?
JIMBRIEL: Sure is! But I call them Beez or Beezelbaby, or my sweetie baby demon lord, which they hate. It’s so cute. And they call me: Jimbriel, the Jimster, Jimbee, Doofus, Dickhead—
WINGZ: Okay! Okay. Jimbriel it is. Let’s move on, shall we?
JIMBRIEL: Great! I love moving on!
WINGZ: So. Jimbriel. I’ve heard Alpha Centauri is divine this time of year. Tell me about your honeymooning adventures. Have things been getting hot and heavy between the two of you?
JIMBRIEL: I wouldn’t say heavy. See, there’s this thing called gravity, where things get pulled downwards? But there’s less gravity in space, so we can kind of just float around with our wings out and bump into each other sometimes.
WINGZ: So, not heavy, but are things…heating up between you?
JIMBRIEL: Oh boy, are they! I’ve seen Beez’s tentacles, like, four times now.
WINGZ: And how is interstellar sex with a demon?
JIMBRIEL: It’s great! Really swell. We have the sex. Like a lot of it. Lots of parts in places and then other parts in other places. And it feels really good.
WINGZ: Jimbriel, do you — do you know what sex is?
JIMBRIEL: Uh, yeah. Of course.
WINGZ: Maybe you can tell me how you like to keep your sex life feeling fresh, then?
JIMBRIEL: Great question. Eternity is a long time. It’s important to keep things fresh and spicy with your partner. And that’s why Beez and I recently tried figging.
WINGZ: Oh, wow. That’s rather advanced.
JIMBRIEL: Actually, it’s all about going back to basics. Picture this: the Garden of Eden. Just two beings alone and fully connected to each other. Then, BAM! Original sin. Shame, heat, nakedness, knowledge of good and evil, all that jazz. Sexy stuff.
WINGZ: That does sound—
JIMBRIEL: We included apples the first few times, but they really fill you up after a while. Six is my limit, but Beez can do eight on a good day.
WINGZ: But… Sorry, what does this have to do with figging?
JIMBRIEL: Fig leaves, duh. We wear them and pretend to be ashamed of our nakedness? A little Adam and Eve roleplay?
WINGZ: Ohhh. Fig leaves.
JIMBRIEL: Pretty kinky, right? Wait, what did you think I meant?
At this point, I am surprised (and somewhat relieved) by the sound of the studio door breaking off its hinges. Beelzebub themself enters the room, dressed in an exquisite Fiendi bowler hat and sparkling black trench coat.
BEELZEBUB: Yoohoo, Jimbee! I’m BORED. You done here or what?
JIMBRIEL: Sure thing, my sweetie baby demon lord.
WINGZ: I actually have a few more questions about the figging?
JIMBRIEL: Fine. I’ll say one more thing. Sure, I may not have a traditional “penis.” And yeah, I may not know what “sex” “is.” But I know I love Beelzebub. And if they’re happy, I’m happy.
BEELZEBUB: I’m happy, my li’l shnooky wookums.
JIMBRIEL: Good. Because I’m happier than I’ve ever been.
WINGZ: Awww, you two are just so sweet!
Well, that may have been the wrong thing to say! After a pause, both of them turn to look at me, and Beelzebub transforms into a creature so terrifying that I black out entirely and wake up a few hours later in a local carpet store. When listening back to my interview recording, I can confirm that the sounds of my retreating screams were lost in a cacophony of dissonant buzzing, eldritch gurgling, and tentacled squelching. I can also confirm that the two adorable lovebirds had one final exchange before leaving the studio.
JIMBRIEL: Wow! Great job, Beezlebaby. Love the tentacle work.
BEELZEBUB: Thanks. Never enough tentacle boob representation in this rag. Thought I’d give ‘em a little show.
JIMBRIEL: I loved it.
BEELZEBUB: And I love you, dickhead.
