Saga 042 ~How To B Broke~

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I wonder how much one of my books would make? Delusions of grandeur, it seems, with the thought of millions. Hell! I’d settle for how much this week, around $670. What am I complaining about? The A/C works, and it was more to box up B. How To B Broke

Friday, August 12, 2022

Saga 042 ~How To B Broke~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or I would be if I stopped thinking about my boy, her boobs, or my balls.

Talk about titles for new books. But it wasn’t writing, my raison d’etre, that got me up this AM. As usual, it was the FEAR. And on day 558, Braxton’s not here saving me. Didn’t I write two whole books about this? I complain that I have Republican tendencies. But yes, I’m also a writer. I never edit. But I’m always moving on to the next book to write. Yet even now, as I talk to you, I have to look at the phone with dread. Reading that my “father” is on his way. As I said yesterday, I rather burn. The betrayal of my son should be cool enough, all ninth circle and all. A Dante story? Beats me being broke right now.

Or in an hour or so. Still, to my everlasting shame. I didn’t want to spend money on Braxton when he was here. Sure the dog food was a bit more, and hot dogs were hot dogs, right? What about a new water filter? I’m no doctor, but our kidneys clean us out? Oh, B’s; the shit that must have been in his system. I told him the price yesterday to figure out what was going on and what led to me putting him in a box. Yes, there was my indifference towards him those days. There was also my greediness, rage, such hatred. My Lady, I was broke in spirit and had nothing left for my son. I paid the price for his death.

This is what I cling to now after what I did yesterday. “THEY” wanted to charge me $500 for new specs, the car. Hell! What couch doesn’t cost more than $500 these days? Wow! Only I paid MILF Dos how much to see her naked? OnlyFans girls would hate me because, as Wheeler Walker Jr. puts it. “Hate the movies on the internet. I prefer the personal shit,” amen. I’ve seen my second BFF’s boobs. Then there was Cherry, or I tried. M Anime? Sophia, her B-Day is coming up. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have an ulterior motive for shopping. So between getting fucked and hoping to, that’s around $670. So with my Day Job FUCK! How To B Broke

558 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 041 ~Bills… B Ain’t One~

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New A/C fix… God knows, but my father will be calling me today. Celebrating, helping, enticing a friend… $250 to $500. Um? Putting my best friend in a “doggie bag” $779.56. Not counting a can of dog food, two chains, and frames. “Bills… B Ain’t One.”

Thursday, August 11, 2022

Saga 041 ~Bills… B Ain’t One~

557 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I hate to tell you this, but my day starts with my son is dead.

Did God ever think that? Does it keep him/her/it up at night? Well, instead, in my case, it makes me drift off like a baby. I doubt I’d gotten any shuteye if it wasn’t that thought. Which explains why I’m dressed and sitting on the loveseat instead of naked in bed. Braxton, do you know the price on your handsome little head? From Jan 29 to Jan 31, 2021, it was $779.56. If it’s any consolation, most of those were tests and keeping you alive “Another Day.” God, I hate those words. But it’s been a while since I’ve felt this horrible. No offense to women. And trust me, we’ll get to that. But it’s that “time of the month” for me, B. August, September, “Gone Till November.” FUCK ME!

To which your granddad says, “my pleasure.” Only this isn’t his fault. Hell! He didn’t charge me anything with the water heater but the A/C. I’d instead burn. Beats Treachery. M Anime would say, “I rather not.” And yet I’m going to spend tons on her birthday, Braxton. Why’s that? (In Jeff Wright’s voice) “you know why!” I should masturbate. Usually, I wouldn’t say things like that out loud. Killing you was the ultimate; you’re in trouble, so go to your room. One of the reasons I kept my hand out of my pants before. 161 days you didn’t see that after you passed, but I’m sure you know me better these 557 days gone. I’m the one in trouble now, according to the paycheck.

Let this spur me on to writing greatness. Or so, that’s what you believed. When you would sit under the dining room table waiting for me to finish yet one more novel. I’m sorry, B. You know where I’ll be today. I’ve already wasted a decade of this existence. What’s one more year, right? Hurt, Humiliations Galore, and if I’m lucky, being human. Your human. One that’s been looking for a new drug, because if it ain’t your love, or jerking off. And I’m staying far away from the drawer you rest on. Still saving me B. I look elsewhere. Cheap painkillers? It does take the edge off Triple B. Less than Triple X, zeros, days, and missing you. The Price. Bills… B Ain’t One.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Saga 040 ~That’ll B The Day~

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When I call, as I have been for 556 days and my little boy comes running down the stairs, that’ll be the day. The day I die from seeing a ghost? How about being an author, an “adult film star,” or not always angry? Yeah, right, That’ll B The Day

Wednesday, August 10, 2022

Saga 040 ~That’ll B The Day~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but most of my brethren seem aggressive and adversarial. Assholes, for the most part. But Happy?

When was the last time I woke up like that? Hell! When was the last time I woke up and was glad to be alive? It wasn’t now. I woke up at 1:40 AM. I’ve fought the clock since. Ha! The last time I woke up healthy was January 11, 2022. What happened that afternoon… Now Happy and I parted ways, God knows when. But the last time I got out of bed with love… Well, Braxton was here. And since then, a day hasn’t gone by where I was glad to get out of bed. Ok, so that’s a lie but waking up with a real reason. If you took this moment right now. I’d get up to protect B. Now I’m being punished.

And that’s not only because my dick is hard. 161 days in mourning? Well, 20 so far since I stopped again. Not mourning but jerking. Cherry asked why. Addicted? Affectionate? Well, more the lack thereof. I don’t know if we ever talked about this before… What, my “Daddy Issues?” Oh! I have plenty of those but my issues, having a son of my own. Onlyfans? Yeah, that happened after B III’s death. I still don’t like to be touched. But having eyes on me, feeling some sort of warmth. To be who, what, even where I am in this existence. I even stopped talking to “Dirty Diana” to have talks with B III, Inspector. The day I give up sex like M Anime, though… Never!

That’ll be the day, like the one when it’s morning. And I’m not wishing I was dead? Such dangerous words, Inspector. The only reason I bothered getting dressed. There’s danger. And that’ll be the day I can stay naked all day or make more than eight bucks, showing off the “goods.” More like whenever I publish one of my books. And I’m at the table now. That’ll be the day. When I’m sitting here with “my” family. As I once sat with my little boy B. My father was here yesterday. The A/C is still busted. Anyway, with B III’s ashes around my throat and his picture. He says this. “You’re not ready for another dog?” He’s not ready for another son. That’ll B The Day

556 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 039 ~Where We’ll B Escaping~

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Didn’t I speak last week about Treachery? I haven’t betrayed a woman, my crappy Day Job, or my country. What, I’m not a “Trumptard.” Anyway, today required making several moves, and not one of them is leading back to bed. Where We’ll Be Escaping

Tuesday, August 9, 2022

Saga 039 ~Where We’ll B Escaping~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I should be pretty good at escaping. An armory, bunker, tickets to non-extradition nations…

This week I’ve been reading, well… 21% of this book, “Until we Meet Again.” Of course, there’s a chapter talking about “escaping” grief. More so, the impossibility of doing such. Now to be clear, I don’t want to. Ok, It’s been 555 days since B III. Not long enough, love. Only I envy him. You can take that however you want. And It could be the fact that the A/C is all screwy. You know I prefer the heat to the cold any day. What I’ll have to do to fix it… Anyway, I woke up this morning, and as with most things, they tie back to my son. Braxton would be hiding under the bed because it would be cooler. In bed all day…

Well, as I said, B under it. But I’d like to stay in bed. I’m reminded of the Day Job, my “Dad,” and whatever the Devil has in store for me. But to escape with B, my son my dog. Nope! These days it’s always about my dick. And you’re asking me, well, what’s wrong with that? My desire, my delight, my darling? As the song goes, “but we’re not making love no more. We’re not even trying to change.” I know. It’s only me who’s changing. Or I did. I can’t anymore. There’s nowhere to go. There’s nowhere to be without my B. Hell! I have you, I want to croon out: “there’s nowhere on earth that I’d rather be than holding you tenderly.”

Music and me, such is my escape. And to keep it going … “If I lay here if I just lay here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world?” Because where is there to go, I’ll ask? I could get up and be the dad I want to be with our children. Work on making more. My business today is nothing like the Day Job. What gentlemen wouldn’t enjoy this life? Didn’t I finish writing a book? Only it’s no different than the one I’m reading. All about dead fur babies again. I don’t mean to be harsh, but that’s the thing. I might as well appreciate the heat. Because Treachery is one cold as ice sin. But, Where We’ll Be Escaping.

555 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 038 ~Lesser Gods Mean Richer “Prophets” ~

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I had a Christian phase. Gone are the days I “believed” in men. And yet I bend the knee to my Dad, my dirtiness, and most of all, the Day Job. It was worth it to kneel and pat my son’s head. The little god he was. Lesser Gods Mean Richer “Prophets.”

Monday, August 8, 2022

Saga 038 ~Lesser Gods Mean Richer “Prophets” ~

Two-Hundred and Fifty-Second Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now. And I should continue to do whatever made me those billions, right? My boy B, Boobs, Books?

Not that I ever thought to make a profit off of B. So why have I written two novels about Braxton? Two unpublished stories, I’d say. I haven’t opened the second one since I “finished” it. I hate the idea that a picture is worth “1000 Words.” Need more pictures? Only that would have cost me time, now wouldn’t it, Madam? Fifteen years wasn’t enough? Oh, there’s the expense of it all. I keep going back to the value of cash more than my son. And then I talk this big game of how I would have died for him. But how much of my life did I give to him? My personal brand of heroin, my own “Personal Jesus.” I was “Losing My Religion.”

And I don’t blame the Yabbos for once. Hell! How much money have I saved in the past two weeks? What if we only count today? The investment I made so many years ago. No, not the publishing contract; we’ll get to that. But “The Big One,” to quote GTA V. My permanent slice of TLC “Tits, Lips, and Clits.” To a company that would play god to a certain extent. I haven’t put down my cash this week. Madam, I am weak, being honest. Because I’m no saint, no prophet. I am a sinner looking to make a profit. Isn’t that what today is all about? When you make the object of your devotion lesser than yourself, you can go, “Dollar dollar bill, y’all.”

So is that why I “worship” my Day Job like something out of ancient Egypt… king of kings, god of gods? I swear I have given everything to make some prophet rich. I know it. I sacrificed my firstborn son on the altar of that fucking job. Ignorance, insanity, inevitable. I’m spending what pittance I make not on my puppy but my playthings, pleasures, penis. What about my actual work? Rule #3 “Now The Work Can Begin,” but it never does. As the godhead that I would make myself out to be, does what, Madam? Sits naked in all his glory in bed, cursing the prophets that say this is the American Dream. Believing less in Braxton, Books, “Bitches, man.” Lesser Gods Mean Richer “Prophets”

554 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 037 ~What Comes After B~

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After 553 days, this shouldn’t be brought to you by the letter B. Today is all AD when I’m still wondering about AB. Republican idea to not get over things, I suppose. But I’ll keep the monkey, the Braxton, on my back, thanks. What Comes After B

Sunday, August 7, 2022

Saga 037 ~What Comes After B~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now, but after that, who am I? Better question, who are you? Somebody that doesn’t know the alphabet?

Or you’re someone lost in the past, which explains what you’ve been looking at besides… Anyway, we’ll get to that. Only you “found” this picture of B III. Then again, who knows? You’re not going to delve that far into the past because it hurts too much. Can you feel it? What you don’t feel or even remember. Is this shame from what happened with the Basic Bitch today, or was it yesterday? It’s like how you refuse to say “Another Day” because that indifference got Braxton killed. But also, not all brunettes are created equal. Well, women for that matter, but again we’ll get there. Right now, as the title says, What Comes After B. There is nothing so far. Nothing? Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE Finishing, The Story of Us
    Completed
  2. I WILL BE Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
    Failed
  3. I WILL BE Finishing Braxton’s Book For Camp NaNoWriMo
    Completed
  4. I WILL BE Keeping It In My Pants (Day 010 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Completed (Day 017 No Fap)
  5. I WILL BE Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
    Failed
  6. I WILL BE The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

This will be the last time I average to hit three things on the list for quite a while. You? Ok, let’s get this out the way since it will keep nagging you. 17 Days is hard to “C.” Ha! Cock! I swear will it get easier or harder? Don’t answer that! But yours is driving you crazy. The first week is always the “hardest?” Over two weeks in and I hit one porn site. Clit, Coochie, Cunt… Things you won’t be getting for E-Day. It’s still far, hmm. Anyway, you should get ahold of the Day Job. With your words towards Cherry and M-Anime? Cum, isn’t happening anytime soon unless you get weak. Think of the worst thing that happened besides Six Impossible Things:

  1. I WILL BE Finishing, Until we Meet Again
  2. I WILL BE Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
  3. I WILL BE Finishing Gulp Off To Be Published
  4. I WILL BE Keeping It In My Pants (Day 017 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I WILL BE Getting A Tattoo Of My Son Little B III
  6. I WILL BE The Man My Son Thinks I Am

This should be easy since you’re not in the habit of finishing anything. Oh yeah, yourself and the occasional pretty girl. But what other things are you able to finish or get past? Not much. You see that the smallest things seem to stick around. Monkey on your back? B? Your whole world here once revolved around a girl… If that doesn’t sound all Incel. Looking back now, though. Again you can’t even remember being upset. Braxton’s memory will be a lot longer. Can you say eternity? So there is no after B. You’re here. Whenever you’re at the Day Job, that’s what you say. It’s the truth and then not. There’s always more to the story. More letters alphabet-wise. B? What Comes After B?

553 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 036 ~ Let’s B In Reality~

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I can’t say much about the Reality Stone in the MCU. If anything, I’d be better suited to talk about Star Wars. And I could go into graphic detail about Whitney Wright in Prom Night. I wonder why? Because real life sucks, but… Let’s B In Reality or not

Saturday, August 6, 2022

Saga 036 ~ Let’s B In Reality~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means reality is what I make it to be. Say it with me, “Republican Tendencies.”

But instead, I was crying about B III this morning, to be honest. I bawl whenever I’m up at 4:00 AM… ok, 4:15 AM. I find two reasons to cry in the morning. My son or the Day Job. One I want to wake up for. The other… do I want to keep existing? Death! Perhaps that’s what King Théoden would cry out. After seeing again these almost 38 years, I have wasted my existence. Braxton’s red hairdryer monster squeaky toy, lying at the foot of the bed. At least I’m not like some “crazy” people, sleeping with my fur baby’s toy cuddled up next to me. Indeed, I’m a lot worse; a confession that’s better left to Inspector Echo or Dirty Diana. What I cozied up to last night.

No wonder I dreamed about reality shows last night? It could have been all the reading I’ve been doing about the WWE women’s tag titles. I don’t want to read rumors. If anything, I don’t want to read about how I have made it this far, Lu. Contestants said quit. I mean, those many competitors told me to get off the stage and give up on it all, Luna. But do you know what saved me, Lady Lunalesca? Porn! Whitney Wright, to be specific. Lady Lunalesca, I can’t help but question why I think of a particular woman on any occasion like last night. But for sure, our dalliance was more like “The Girl Next Door.” That would be too much like my reality (snickers).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XeawoHkf9yg

But the real world today consists of a haircut, a visit to PetSmart, and the usual errands for my survival. All for a reality I rather not inhabit. And there is a big fucking reason! Braxton Is Dead; I’ve been telling myself that a lot. Along with what happened on this day in history. Was it on the 7th? Either way, I lost the Basic Bitch, which hurts less than losing my little boy, my B III. The one thing I will claim in this world. Lunalesca, B’s life taken. And as for whatever this is (gestures at myself in bed). If this is reality… I choose to live in fantasies. The Moondust, Sick Fux, WTF! But won’t find Braxton there. Let’s B In Reality.

552 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 035 ~Son Of A B-Word~

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I’ve had a few dogs, but B III was my heart dog, a soulmate, my kid. The only S.O.B. I ever loved. Because I don’t love myself. Plus, my mom is a good woman. Speaking of which, what have I been thinking of lately? “Skip Ad?” Son Of A B-Word

Friday, August 5, 2022

Saga 035 ~Son Of A B-Word~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but how can that be when I keep waking up this late? Oh, this week sucked.

So, before I put my mind back into the gutter. Let’s talk about the little S.O.B. who is my son. Don’t get me wrong, Lady Sophia, that’s a fact. He is a son of a bitch; I miss every day. The fact that I had to exist in such a week as the one that took him from me. A standard 40-hour work week? Ha! If that were the case, I’d have one more reason to… careful there, right? Dangerous words. But for the record, I haven’t tried to harm myself well since January 11, 2022. And that was an accident. What do you get when you have Tifa Lockhart’s mature dress? And a hard-on for Zoe Colletti. Confessions with Inspector Echo but Lady Sophia. The Day Job schedule makes me want to cry. Then I remember B III crying that Wednesday, and I was so driven to hate then.

That’s why I still read the words; no, I write the words; Braxton Is Dead. They didn’t write that on the bill, of course. THEY have their words, and I have mine fair enough. Reading? There are so many things I don’t want to read. Thanks to YouTube, I’ve quit reading the words “Skip Ad.” That’s because I don’t want to watch anymore. What pray tell are my fingers going to do now? Well, besides becoming fists at the Day Job. I continue to white-knuckle the mattress. And I’m not one for praying anymore. Last time… a week like this.

Son of a bitch was dying, and it was all my fault because I wouldn’t listen. Now I’m done with a second book where I tried to listen. And what am I going to do with it, I ask you? Son of a bitch can’t do anything right. I shouldn’t mention my Ma like that, but I told one of the girls what I think about while I’m wasting my life. “Yo Mama?” More like “Yo Son,” if anyone dared to disrespect B III. “Either thou or I, or both, must go with him.” This son of a bitch wishes I could say Shakespeare was on the brain. But between Maiko Kaneda, Tifa Lockhart, and Cherry… I’m just thinking about blowjobs. Son Of A B-Word

551 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 034 ~B Willing To Bark~

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B’s has gone silent again. I don’t blame him. Novel writing is hard work, and I should have been more vocal. Hell! I should be louder at the Day Job and go all Michael Jackson. “Leave me alone. Stop it. Just stop doggin’ me around.” B Willing To Bark

Thursday, August 4, 2022

Saga 034 ~B Willing To Bark~

550 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? If I could hear your answer. I wish my day was over and done with.

At the moment, it’s like old times. You know I don’t get up like this. Unless the day is going to go bad. It was a day like this when I held you in my arms and tried to rock you to sleep. A bad choice of words… but you know what I mean. This was an effed-up week. Do you miss me grumbling, griping, and growling like this? I could save it for the afternoons. As I said, I wish I was already there. If anything, I wish I was more like you. At the Day Job the other day, I was thinking. At least when my kid barked, he was helping me out. I would take your voice over everything every day, Braxton.

There’s this quote I always use in regards to you. “All I know is the child is my warrant, and if he isn’t the word of God, then God never spoke.” It remains true, Braxton. If God is love, then I could think of no better way to say it than Braxton. I’m still listening, trying. But with all the noise in the world, Baby B, I swear. When it wasn’t the silence of your death. It’s my shame I have when I walk into the Day Job. At least I’m not saying “Another Day.” It was that indifference towards my existence that ended you. Braxton, all the rage I endure that’s been bubbling up. I can’t tell you why that is. I’m your Dad.

Yes, we’re men. But there are many different, difficult, and dangerous little things to bark. Now, one of those is that I want to go back to bed. As if I’ve left it this morning for anything more than to have this conversation. The worthless discussions, Day Job. Now, as I said, my anger. I can’t tell you why but people Braxton have been driving me up the wall. Aren’t I one of them? Like that Wednesday, I came back and passed out. Blackout? I’m going to bring up that book yet again. It’s one I would share with you to a certain extent. You might sigh, scratch, or only sit there. But you were willing to live B, I know. B Willing To Bark

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Saga 033 ~The B In Blackout~

WillLeave a comment

I shouldn’t have said that idiot, insane. Um, then stop thinking about me. My kid? But he’s gone because of me. That crime beats all others. The women I’ve offended. The things I’ve done to myself. Three words black it all out, yep. The B In Blackout

Wednesday, August 3, 2022

Saga 033 ~The B In Blackout~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. And with that much money, while I’m doing nothing. I assume I could stay awake, Inspector.

But no, I’m at the Day Job. When I have to take out my “Air Pods,” my mind begins to flitter on everything. Then like that, I’m in a dark place. Let’s say it’s a version of the sunken place. I’m watching existence but in the past. Yet I believe I can see the future. Before I give way to despair, though, three little words wake me up. Braxton Is Dead. It always comes back to that Inspector. My Son Is Dead. No matter what “Humiliations Galore,” whatever will be endured. I say those three words, and everything becomes bearable. Yesterday it became more evident as I suffered. If you want my theory… it’s that time of the month, the year. My original sin returns.

You know Inspector because I don’t. It was only around 2017 when I started talking to Lady Lu again. It was about the Basic Bitch. And let us not forget Sweetness or The Harmonic War. Oh, too late! I hate reading my past work, Inspector; ok, Braxton Is Dead. His death was the worst day of my existence. It even surpasses horrific Emergence Day. Emergence Day… Fuck! That is coming up soon, ha! Echo, fuck me! Endure And Survive. And then, yet again, I have a note on August 6, 2017, saying such and such is not your friend. I want to hide from all these memories. Inspector, I try. I would have been better off dying on the floor. But no, my dear Braxton…

My son wouldn’t let me die when I blacked out on the floor, Inspector. He saved me, my little boy. The only other times I blacked out was when I drank some. I’m a lightweight. There’s also Blackout: A Thriller by Erin Flanagan. I swear that book’s living rent-free in my head. Inspector, you know I’ve been free of fapping going on 13 days… Surviving this AM? XXX blocks out everything and the blackness that comes from such a feeling. By God! Echo, why didn’t I for 161 days? Why do I resist now? It’s day 549 of my son being gone. Braxton Is Dead, and I deserve to feel every bit of Hell this day will be. Start in gratitude. I don’t think I will. The B In Blackout.

549 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will