Saga 210 ~Mediums B, V, Granddaddy~

I can’t say that writing is a “release.” Too much porn for that. It makes things bearable. There was no one to talk to about Braxton’s death. And Virgil’s life is sitting in the dark… My granddaddy’s passing? I don’t know. Mediums B, V, Granddaddy

Friday, January 27, 2023

Saga 210 ~Mediums B, V, Granddaddy~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. But is being a trillionaire too extreme? That’s what these days feel like. To the extreme

This coming from the “Lazy Ass” sitting in bed at six in the morning. At this time in 2021, I should have been paying attention to B. Gospel 210 ~Will To Break Free~ Well, I wasn’t. And even today, with so much to do, Lady Sophia. I wonder how Braxton felt while I was worried about “Shawshank.” Shows what kind of Daddy I’d become. The one that let him die. No, correction! The one who killed him. Euthanasia. Killing? Yesterday I brought up to B III the differences between Treachery and Betrayal. Braxton’s still dead. Um, that’s something I should bring up to one of these “animal communicators,” oh yeah. Before I go, get Braxton’s story tattooed on my flesh. But I know the story.

And V’s is in the process of being written. It’s not a very good one so far. I’ll admit it. Hell! Last night I left him in the Den, thinking he would go to the pillow in B III’s room. He might even decide to come to bed. This was at nine last night. So, where was Virgil this morning? I can’t even say he was the first thought I had. Being Virgil’s Dad, (scoffs). Besides missing Braxton… There was a blonde in a bikini. Sabrina Nichole’s “first sex tape” getting ready to come out. Don’t forget; there was Aphrodite from “Record of Ragnarok.” Anyway, when I got in a better headspace… Did I say that? Well, I got up. There’s Virgil on the couch.

He’s dealing with his stuff. But if he was B III… Honest, these pornographic passions? Braxton would have listened to me all last night as I talked about granddaddy. What can I say? That’s the thing bothering me. Talking about Braxton, always and forever. And I still want to learn even more about him. The spirits, seers, say something. I’m listening. I can tell you stories about Virgil. Only they won’t be good ones, Lady Sophia. Though I do imagine he might be able to sift through this existence. Somehow, someway… Granddaddy? The last time I heard from him, he said he didn’t know me. Um, that’s a ditto from me. So I sit with his death knowing nothing, Answers, release? Mediums B, V, Granddaddy

726 Days Without B III, Day 167 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 209 ~Death, B Not Virgil~

I didn’t sign up for this… stuff. But in 2021, on the 31st of this month, I signed the paperwork to end my son’s life. I swear he gave me a look that said, “Daddy, can we go home?” And now 2023, I got a call from “home.” Death… “Death, B Not Virgil.”

Thursday, January 26, 2023

Saga 209 ~Death, B Not Virgil~

725 Days Without B III, Day 166 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Well, I’m still breathing. So is Virgil. My “granddaddy,” your great-grandfather, not so much today.

I didn’t sign up for this shit. Being born, Braxton. I know you’ll hate me saying this, but it was the second worse day of this existence. If I had a choice B III to do it all over again… I didn’t sign up to be your daddy, either. I’m 38, and you were the greatest love of what I wish I could say is “my life.” It was the greatest honor to be your Dad, Braxton. I mean that B. I didn’t sign up to kill you… Well, no. There was actual paperwork involved in that, I remember. Sings out… “(Remember who you are) I remember (Remember what you did to him).” At this rate, I’ll have to do it again. Only Virgil’s 2.

You know he’s okay, Braxton. Starts singing again… “Lift me up. Hold me down. Keep me close. Safe and sound.” That’s Little Virgil, Rihanna, you know what I mean, Braxton. One more reason I wish you were around. Because I have no idea. Today’s thoughts… When I was leaving and listening to Virgil cry, I couldn’t help but think. Betrayal. Treachery. For the record, that’s the difference between you and him B. Looked it up. Betrayal is violating loyalty, love, and your very life. Treachery’s the same but without any loyalty. Anyway. As I listened to Virgil, I thought of you and said, “fucking ninth circle.” Then there was the text about your great-grandfather. Your grandma is who I’m worried about. And what about me?

The third thought of the day. As I was leaving the Day Job, I read this flyer saying something like, “It’s okay to talk about suicide.” Do you remember when your great-grandma died? It was the day your grandfather kicked me out. Hell! I deserved that, given my age. It was the longest we were apart, Triple B. It was around 2 months. Terrible! Braxton, there came your Aunt’s wedding, which was about 5 days as I went to see her, which wasn’t bad at all. And now here we are 725 days, almost 2 years. Gospel 209 ~ Will’s Yearly Eye Exam~. I couldn’t see how sick you were getting? How do I feel about my granddaddy? RIP. Virgil’s life? Death, B Not Virgil

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Saga 208 ~B Virgil In Time~

A big lie, I tell myself… There’s No Time. What did I do all this morning? And those small instances when I’m trying to teach V (sigh). I had all the time in the world after the Day Job, but I was so mad. Braxton paid with time. B Virgil In Time

Wednesday, January 25, 2023

Saga 208 ~B Virgil In Time~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, ha-ha. How I wish. It would be better if Virgil (formerly Archie) knew who he was. And me… I’m a Boob.

Not the guy that should be worrying about taxes, calling the termite guy. Terrible Daddy? That last one we’ll get to in a while. Only I need to make a list of the necessary things. Yeah, it’s not like my Six Impossible Things are any closer. Even pepped up with energy. Please, I’ll be asleep by five. And speaking of closing my eyes, have I cried for B III today? I did curse out Virgil for stepping in shit last night. As I’ve said, January is not a good time. And isn’t this entire existence about me stepping in shit? One more reason we’re talking now. But (sigh) we’ll finish well today because what shit will the Day Job bring. Again, taxes, termites, filters, adulting…

When all I want to do is be a little boy, curled up in blankets crying for my best friend. That Inspector Echo is what is pissing me off the most. Well, the Day Job. But besides blaming myself for Braxton’s death, I blame them for making me hate. Republicans? Inspector, I’d make a damn good one if I was some old white Trumptard. But no, I want to talk about my son (Braxton) and the boy (Virgil) in this house. Whatever will I do? There will be barbecue and dog movies. No new treasures as I look at the account that doesn’t say billion. So why do I keep saying I AM? Hell! I am still Braxton’s Daddy, and nothing will change that Inspector.

But then there’s an animal communicator I want to talk to sometimes, Inspector. A wish. And before that, I meant to speak to some of these counselors. About what I will do with Virgil, come the day. When has anyone ever agreed with me? Oh, right, I killed him. And it should have been me, but this isn’t Heaven. Tuesday begging for heavenly boobs. Only she refused, so I had money to spend on books. And those books, Echo, weren’t about burying fur babies. Inspector, love and hate Amazon. Wonder what they and other stores must think of me? When the truth is “I Don’t Know Who I Am.” I could use a “Repair Man,” a bug guy, a counselor, or an adult. Virgil? No, Braxton. B Virgil In Time

724 Days Without B III, Day 165 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 207 ~ Virgil’s Holiday From B~

E-Day. That’s the second worse day of existence. Um, Thanksgiving. But nowhere near as big when Braxton was here. And possibly New Year’s. But next week this day is a holiday. A memorial. Only I’m not alone, but I want to be. Virgil’s Holiday From B.

Tuesday, January 24, 2023

Saga 207 ~ Virgil’s Holiday From B~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now. But as the song goes, “money can’t buy me love.” Free me from Hate? Horniness? Happiness?

Um, it got my B a trip to Heaven or wherever. It’s this time next week I’ll Hate the most. A permanent vacation. A holiday away from me. And I’m sure you can relate, love. Reason number whatever we’re talking about today, Monday, January 23, 2023. It feels like I’m working the old Day Job all over again. Tomorrow I rather not be bothered. Next week? I don’t hate my family, ever. It’s not Virgil either though he’s becoming a brat. As I said so many times, it’s not veterinarians, old age, or even the disease that took my boy. “I choose me, and I know that’s selfish love.” Yes, more music. You know, I still need to pick a song on Spotify. Twenty-Four days.

But there are some things you can’t get away from, you know. Another song, love? Fucking Enrique Iglesias “You can run, you can hide, but you can’t escape my love.” Loving someone never takes a holiday but liking them… Whatever and I going to do with Virgil? I’m ashamed that this time has crept up on me and when next week rolls around, love… When was the last time I cried for Braxton? These might be my first tears for today. Come the 31st; I want to eat barbeque and watch dog movies. Even Spontaneous, sadly. Hell! I did read “A Dog’s Journey.” So I could watch the film now. (Cringes). Uncomfortably? I remember the book, that was all kinds of… Who cares; Braxton’s dead.

Always the worse pain imaginable. There’s no escape, and no, I can’t give it a rest. But I know you would never say that. And crazy? Well, knowing V ain’t B. I’ve been reading up on animal communicators. I could try and find one and see what happens. I could see where Virgil stands vet-wise. When I went to Braxton’s Aunt’s wedding, I boarded B III for a few days. It couldn’t hurt to send Virgil away for two days to honor my son. Would that be honoring Braxton? And what about our family? I’m not going out for smokes. The 31st of all days. When I’ll be the most alone. I want to be. Anywhere but being loved and happy. Virgil’s Holiday From B

723 Days Without B III, Day 164 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

I Think Maple Street’s Bugged (Book Review)

When I usually think of maggots… well, whenever. I think of the dead. And this book, The Maggot on Maple Street, has that too. Well, a death wish, and yet words coming alive as well. Flesh, finding oneself, and fuckery. I Think Maple Street’s Bugged.

If you don’t read anything else, with the way things are going in the world today… Remember, The Maggot on Maple Street for your bug-out bag. It will remind you that there was once intelligent life on this planet. One of the many things Courtenay Schembri Gray is trying to convey. Well, that’s amongst many. And did I say many other things going on in her head? Brains! Indeed if the zombies haven’t gotten to you yet, you still have. That is if you’re reading Courtenay’s book; Ms. Gray, if you’re nasty… indeed, some elements of this work. You’re warned.

Long story short, or compilation, which it is. It’s a collection of poetry from a quite profound young writer. Not to sound cliché. But each and every poem really makes you think. That’s both a good and a bad thing. But more on that in a moment. Such a mind. Courtenay’s talent is immeasurable for such a small work. But if there were more to it. And yes, I have read other titles of hers. Such as Cherry. I suppose she can’t give it away all at once. Such experiences and realizations. Which should drive us all while. You’ll see.

That is if you’re lucky enough to read this work. I imagine “read” would be much too small a word for it, like something out of the movie “The Menu.” When it comes to writing… You do not only read her poetry. You imagine, dream, you relish every single word. Again there is far more to it than that, and again if you will give me the time. I ask you to share some of your time with The Maggot on Maple Street. Hell! The title alone asks for that and far more of us. I have discovered that myself.

It’s not as if Courtenay is asking you to take this journey alone, as she, too, is on a path of discovery of her own. To be on the same road. And yet we all end up in different places. Or maybe we like where we are and choose to stay, as The Maggot on Maple Street will remain with me for quite some time. There’s indeed so much to keep in mind while reading it. The same can be said for her, which is why she chose to share her thoughts with the world. The Maggot on Maple Street

If you have stuck with me until now… no spoilers. These are only my own personal opinions. Yes! Other than this. What are you waiting for? Go buy this book today. Yesterday, if you have a time machine. My own idea. Courtenay takes me to some strange places in musings.

The two poems that garnered my full attention from the get-go were “Mother Cauldron” and “Saturn (De)vours.” There was a line that immediately gripped me in “Mother Cauldron.” And again, the mere titles of these works will give you pause. And then it’s as if you’re running through the words, and you do catch them. Only you don’t know if you’re winning or losing. Or if the writer herself is in her thoughts of how she sees, well herself. This is the same way you see “Saturn (De)vours.” And maybe that’s it. Those two poems were when I first started seeing the writer. And not only the feelings and emotions she was invoking. Now is this a good or bad thing? I don’t rightly know. Yet as for me. I indeed liked seeing the writer and not only the dream that she has shared now. But the mix in everything…

In every other work of Courtenay’s, you’re looking to recapture that moment of her looking at herself in the mirror. This is where Courtenay truly shines, to be quite honest. Having kept up with her other work. It’s the difference between working on herself and “working for the man every night and day.” The fact that most of her work falls into the former is pretty brilliant. Finding those truths that she has discovered about herself. You can only wonder if she, too, stopped. Like you will find yourself doing as you read through her poems and go, “WHOA!” I can’t say how many times I did that myself. Sometimes you may even need to close the book and let the ideas settle in your mind. Just for a bit. One of the reasons it took me a bit to go through such a small book. It’s that damn good.

It’s that damn good, and other things you will say about The Maggot on Maple Street. What, is the title too long? And if I tried quoting Courtenay herself, I think we would be here all day. And I could be reading her book again and again. Um, I guess?

And that brings us to the good, the bad, and the ugly. Well, not really, as I gave this five stars but then again… I’m pretty picky when it comes to books. So I wouldn’t exactly call myself a softie. Not when it comes to this kind of work, ha-ha.

As I’ve already said, the best part of her work is when she’s more or less talking to herself than it seems to an audience. You can tell every poem is like that, but you can see the difference in the wording. It may just be beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that to be sure. Which is something that Courtenay herself is trying to see. Everything can’t be beautiful, and every poem of hers… As a collective, you see the best. But here and there. Sit at your typewriter, keyboard, pen, and paper; what have you and bleed, right? Courtenay does plenty of that and more. It may even scare you in places. Or invoke other emotions and the thoughts of other bodily fluids. And the experience or lack thereof that this writer may have in her own life. Coming to such things, um, maybe.

And again, I say experience. I’m not exactly a genius or anything but with Courtenay. Besides looking up her other works, may I suggest you invest in a dictionary and thesaurus? Am I being overdramatic… in a way? But as any guy can tell you, you’ll be on cloud nine and focused at the same time, and then suddenly, it’s like, huh, after a moment. Keep in mind; that this is poetry and not prose. So there is no warning between particular states of thinking or being. But I can promise you’ll stick around for the whole ride. Courtenay’s poetry can be a bit of a mindfuck for the best and worse. There’s no question about that. Is there a better word than that? Well, I lack this author’s vision. I have read her entire work and enjoyed, studied, and liked it. Something or other…

It is worth the read, though. And for everyone telling me to tell my friends. I can honestly say, at the very least, I have shared the name Courtenay Schembri Gray with some I know. And I’ve said what I’ve said to you and everyone. I Think Maple Street’s Bugged.

Saga 206 ~I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity~

I ask authors, “things.” Or at least I read their books. The last one I talked to, I asked to see her yabbos. As far as asking anyone else anything… There’s B, but he never had answers. Comfort was enough. But speaking? “I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity”

Monday, January 23, 2023

Saga 206 ~I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity~

Two-Hundred and Seventy-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now… which means stupidity, lies, and damn “white supremacy” (in some cases). It’s damn near a language, Madam.

But as the song goes, “first let me explain that I’m just a black man.” And while I could go all into racism as people like Ron DeSantis will keep it prevalent. Fuck you, DeSantis! Madam, for now, let’s focus on me. Oh, what? Not on my dead kid? Every day we take a step closer to Braxton’s second anniversary. That’s the wrong word, isn’t it, Madam? His Memorial Day? Aren’t I full of questions today? Now that I’m awake… in a better state of mind. But we’ll get to that in a bit. First, there’s B III. If only he were still alive. Madam, I don’t know how I’m going to do this. Pretty ironic, huh? The one I turned to never had answers.

Again, at least Braxton was/is real. And I would have never given in this morning. Madam, you can relax. As I said, I’m up now. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed. Hairy butt? Virgil ticked me off last night. He’s becoming a brat with his outside time. Time-out? Last night he had to stay in Braxton’s room. So I didn’t bother thinking about behavior. Madam, I had mine to consider. My “Obsession” to go with another song. Fucking fuck. In case you were wondering where I was from, four in the morning, a half-hour. Cumming? I’m thankful that I didn’t. But there was Twitter, Tifa Lockhart’s tits, thumping over an English beauty, etc. How will I ever get over this? Boards don’t hit back. And some Triple D Yabbos?

It was either those or falling back asleep. The Million-dollar question. How do I exist? Every morning when I wake up… that’s Sugar Ray, by the way. Anyway, I look at the time. I was up at four again and settled down by 4:30. By five, I had an energy drink and had been watching The Last of Us reactions. On and off besides talking to you. And still, I wonder. Why don’t I have a billion dollars yet? You saw what it took to do banking and shopping. This week won’t be good, but with 100% truth, next week will be the worse since Sunday, January 31, 2021. Then 2022. Now a bratty friend in 2023. With no one to ask, I remain stupid. I Don’t Know Isn’t Stupidity

722 Days Without B III, Day 163 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 205 ~Virgil Dreams, Braxton’s Nightmare~

Don’t look up where I was on this day in 2021… Um, too Late! I was looking at boobs… for a book review, thank you. It’s the reason I got up on time today. Or was it the nightmare of my father? Dreams of my fur-kids? Virgil Dreams, Braxton’s Nightmare

Sunday, January 22, 2023

Saga 205 ~Virgil Dreams, Braxton’s Nightmare~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now. And while I wish you were me… uh, no. I pray you aren’t as forgetful or lazy…

Let’s address the elephant in the room. No! It’s better if it’s B III. He’s so much bigger in your mind right now. Friday, January 20, 2023. A day that will live in infamy. Fuck! Well, I forgot a quote for him. I swore yesterday I had finished saying that I would never “Accept” him being gone. And on a day when I felt so productive to a certain degree. Productivity means making it to the dining room table to write. I forgot B’s words. Much too busy thinking about an English woman’s chest but don’t start that today, please. Hell! How do you think you were up on time this morning? 15 minutes masturbating. Virgil was “displeased” being kicked out. Now Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING The Grief Recovery Handbook for Pet Loss by Russell Friedman
    Completed
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Albums (Soon)
    Failed
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
    Failed
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 016 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Completed (Day 022 No Fap)
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

At least he’s not in trouble. He can come back at any time. Braxton’s door and the bedroom are wide open. Of course, he won’t, which is the only thing B has over 2V. Other than that, Virgil is living the dream. Did I mention you being productive today? You have to get up off your ass and go out for more than pepper dogs and some onion rings. B suffered that too. When he passed, I chose rings over fries. Waffles over pancakes. And what about all the chocolate? I didn’t allow it, never ever here. Loving Braxton Barks. Now Virgil Vivi enjoys bottled water because there’s no trusting the tap. He gets a new type of food etc. But hand-me-down Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE VIEWING Grieving the Loss of a Fur Baby by Becky Connellan
  2. I WILL BE VETTING Pictures, My Braxton’s Albums (Soon)
  3. I WILL BE VENDING Gulp: Poetry Book
  4. I WILL BE VOWING To Keep Pants On (Day 022 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE VALUING My Flesh Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE VALIANT Being The Man My Son Thinks I Am

Talk about nightmares. You had to look up one of our conversations. Braxton’s last week, Gospel 207 ~Hell With Instructions Will~. From January 21, 2021. Jesus, the man I was. Only as the song goes, “What have I become? My sweetest friend?” What about you? Dreams from last night… nightmares would be more accurate. My father was there. And he, above all else, says that before this week has even begun… Hell! Weren’t you on YouTube and Twitter a moment ago? Well, at least it wasn’t porn. Indeed, Black History. Fuck You Ron DeSantis! Anyway, dreaming of your father says one thing about you and Virgil. He’s living, but you’re not loving. Would one rather live or know love? Indifference Kills! Virgil Dreams, Braxton’s Nightmare

721 Days Without B III, Day 162 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 204 ~Spelling Virgil Without B~

I don’t say I live… I exist. Nothing’s mine, and what was or is my son, the Indifference that killed him, owning it. What about V? I spend days pushing him to go up the stairs, to the door, etc. Being a “Dad,” dog training. Spelling Virgil Without B.

Saturday, January 21, 2023

Saga 204 ~Spelling Virgil Without B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I didn’t have to be the most intelligent man on the planet to accomplish this.

Being full of hate, joining a cult, and having no morals would get the job done. Which, of course, doesn’t explain why I’m sitting here at nine in the morning in bed. Or 99.9% of the GOP/GQP who would instead stay poor and racist above all else, Lady Lunalesca. Though if I could have my B III back, I wouldn’t need a billion. Did I say that out loud? Again if you’re wondering why I’m speaking to you so late, Lady Lunalesca… I couldn’t give up porn. Oh, I’m still dry, but it’s getting crazy. I heard anger is more useful than despair. So I suppose horny at least gets you up, or something up. Can I say I’m still in the Depression stage, Lunalesca?

Because it will never be Acceptance. Speaking of 99.9%, I’m sure that Virgil ain’t Braxton. It could be because it’s January. But yes, I have been tougher on Virgil these days. There’s some version of dog training afoot. Virgil has no courage. How about practicing what I preach, Lady Luna? Putting one foot in front of the other? Nope! He does what he has to. After that, he returns to his bed/pillow and stays there scared indefinitely. Giving him attention? Is that the lesson I should be learning? Fighting Indifference? I keep saying it, Lunalesca. It was Indifference that killed Braxton. I don’t own much, but my Braxton and Indifference led to my becoming a murderer. And now, nothing in the world makes any sense.

Or it’s only me. And you wonder why I don’t want to get up off my ass, to go shopping. Hell! I was up on time and immediately said twenty more minutes. Bullshit spam text. Yeah, that’s another twenty minutes. I realized nothing was plugged in. I’ll wait till five. I didn’t want to start complaining to you. So I clear most of my emails until six. Two more hours looking at porn until, thankfully, eight. Braxton’s official medicine time, and Virgil goes outside. He’s been in his room since six. Virgil’s outside, cappuccino, breakfast? From eight-thirty to nine, more porn. That’s been today like the song goes, Mad World. Or sad, lazy, fucked up. Existing over life. Hate vs. Indifference. Spelling Virgil Without B

720 Days Without B III, Day 161 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 203 ~Virgil Has Words B~

If you asked me Braxton’s last words, it would be right out of that episode “A Hole in the World” Why can’t I stay? I didn’t listen to him when he got sick when he was lying in the office, and I thought I was picking Virgil. “Virgil Has Words B”

Friday, January 20, 2023

Saga 203 ~Virgil Has Words B~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and my sole objective is never to have to speak again. Grunt, moan, scream, but speaking?

Virgil agrees with not speaking. Unless I’m walking out the door, then he’s all sorts of loud. Hell! V has taken a tumble down the backstairs and didn’t utter a small whimper or bark. Does it still count as Humiliations Galore when only I see it? Virgil is ok, Sophia. But (ahem) DEATH! Not 2V’s ever… I’ve been down this road with Braxton, haven’t I? Only my own. I keep saying it, Lady Sophia. When I fall asleep, I never want to wake up again. Being honest. It’s why, yet again, I’m late talking to you. The food poisoning (fuck you, Jack’s) had me a bit fucked up, eww. And when I did wake up, it was nearly midnight, yep. Braxton would look after me.

Well, if Braxton were still here. Braxton was supposed to live forever… ok twenty years. This year he would be turning eighteen. The starting point a person’s expected to adult. Fuck I’m thirty-eight. And between the exterminator, taxes, and the filter, that needs to be replaced. I’m still learning. Braxton died way too soon. And the book I read before, “Grieving the Loss of a Fur Baby.” For the record, this book ain’t helping. But did any of them? Oh, and the whole DEATH thing. I’ve never read Lord of the Rings but saw the movies. The things we learn, huh, Lady Sophia? But there is a word I’ve been looking up quite often lately. ENSHRINEMENT. A lot of the books say it’s bad, but…

Yeah. When do I listen to people when it’s not a direct order for this existence? “A Man Chooses A Slave Obeys.” That’s from Bioshock, and you’ve heard me quote it plenty, Lady Sophia. I’ve also said that Virgil is not Triple B. If anything, he’s more like me. Hmm? Scared to speak, to take a step, and sleep is his best friend as it sure ain’t me right now. Lady Sophia, I speak fluent Braxton but as for Virgil… Even better, living with silence. There’s VIRGIL, GO, and NO! I’m not sure he recognizes his name. Archie, no thanks. Only GO up the stairs, NO running back in fear, and VIRGIL, VIRGIL, VIRGIL. He’d tell me to go to Hell! Virgil Has Words B

719 Days Without B III, Day 160 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 202 ~Virgil, Don’t B Mad~

I’ve raised my voice at Virgil once… ok, twice. What he did on Braxton’s pillow, I tried to wash it and destroyed it. And sniffing Braxton’s bed. But Virgil’s not mad; he’s scared. Physically I’m sick, and my heart remains broken. Virgil, Don’t B Mad

Thursday, January 19, 2023

Saga 202 ~Virgil, Don’t B Mad~

718 Days Without B III, Day 159 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Even if you got food poisoning, you’d consider it your best day ever. But milkshakes…

2V can’t be mad at me today. Besides sharing a ton of fries with him, I’m sure he doesn’t have a stomachache right now. Not throwing up or crapping all over your room B III. About to get all TMI. Well, Jack’s is now one more place I can’t go anymore, considering how I’m feeling. But I can’t check the walking path, either. You remember all the walks you took until you got old and I was lazy. My zombie apocalypse buddy. Braxton, I swear I have plenty of reasons to be mad these days. A stomach bug. Way too many boobs, and missing you, my boy. More than ever. It’s making me a meanie regarding Virgil Vivi. I’m a crappy friend so far, B.

I’m sick and tired. Yes, plenty mad too. But Virgil is scared, if anything. It’s been about five months, and where is he? As I said, Braxton, your room lying on a pillow by himself. At least now I have an excuse. I don’t want him to see me like this, about to blow any minute. And I mean that in more ways than one. So gross, I know. I remember your good days and bad. If I thought of those more, I would focus on something other than your last ones, Braxton. And as far as Virgil is concerned… I suppose that’s one thing you two have in common, Triple B. Every day is your last and his first. And at best, I’m in the middle every given day.

But right now, I don’t know how I feel. Well, physically, I’m hopping out of bed. Fuck that milkshake! Or was it the chicken? The fries were on the chicken, but V’s good. I’m fucked. At least I’m too sick to be Humpin’ Around. So I can’t eat, I can’t hump, I’m just like you. How dare I compare this to your last days. Yet again, you see what I’m doing, don’t you, Little B? Anytime there’s pain, I have to dig into the greatest pain. Hurts Like Hell. As the song goes, “I loved and I loved and I lost you.” But I don’t love Virgil like you. When shall I? Not this month; the next, ever, I don’t know. Virgil, Don’t B Mad

Always and Forever,
Your Dad