Gospel 297 ~B Free Of Knowing~

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I wouldn’t give up knowing what it’s like to be a Daddy, with respect to those with two-legged children. I know who my enemies are… I can’t be in the dark about that. I know tons, but thinking hurts. Why did zombies eat brains? B Free Of Knowing

Saturday, April 24, 2021

Gospel 297 ~B Free Of Knowing~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Did I just win the lottery? I’d take them on discovering a way to reconstitute “pets.”

The word applies here, but I still hate saying it. Braxton was/is my son, my best friend, my brother, hell everything. Currently, as I’m speaking to you, Lady Lu, it’s Tuesday, April 20, 2021. Yes, I know, time-travel has its way of making it look like I don’t give Two Fux. Lady Lu, I’ll give you a quick recap, AHEM…

Fear The Walking Dead and Monday was exhausting. I did get two “valuable” hours. I didn’t get into it with the ASM. “L-I-V-I-N.” Now a truck unload is coming up this week that is still going on. My peace was shattered on day 73 of Braxton’s passing. I officially moved from Denial to Anger in “The Five Stages of Grief.” I only want to feel dead once again. Mad World

Monday helped. But if I could do day 74 over again? THEY say that you should never let anyone hold sway over your emotions as they hold power over you. Tell that to my bawled fist and a heart, broken out of love but good enough for hatred. BLM indeed. Braxton helped me survive the first year of the pandemic and without him from now on? Did you catch the news today or really any day? Again nothing would make me “happier, no “gladder” than to return to my cocoon, my crypt. A convincing denial I held to so long. At this rate, though I could be fired? Should I be thanking the ASM, or can I find my routine again? Minus the “Another Day.”

Is that what I want, to be a zombie? To choose hate because some asshole pushed me there, to stay in Denial always and forever? Right now, Braxton’s water bowl is full. I’m resting in bed. Feels better than sitting on the couch, heart pounding out of my chest, Anger. Lady Luna, you want me to talk about the future, and it ain’t looking too bright indeed. I worried about B III, I continue to do so. With a storm, I grab his “remains” and keep him close. Am I still at the Day Job, or did the meathead ASM decide to destroy what’s left? Should I do what all my motivations use to say and believe better? The best died. B Free of Knowing.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 296 ~The Battling Barker Braxton~

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His bark is worse than his bite… God, how I miss that bark. Braxton may not have liked a bunch of people; I can count them up on one hand. He loved me, and the people that do are far less. B fought for me until the end. “The Battling Barker Braxton.”

Friday, April 23, 2021

Gospel 296 ~The Battling Barker Braxton~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or I better be as Braxton can’t protect me from what has happened, will or won’t.

Back in B.B. (Before Braxton), when I was in high school, I would “pray” to have hell, someone to pray to at all. A friend to stand with me… though even with B III, I never got around to getting him registered or whatever. Fuck You ASM, I said WHATEVER!!! Pardon me, My Lady, anyway Braxton should have been an Emotional Support Animal. As the song goes, “so take a look at me now,” I’m going crazy. Although that could be the idea of a fight. I’m saying I won’t say YES, I won’t kowtow, back down, hit the ground. If I do, that overgrown, meathead, jock asshole will have to put me there, I swear. However, my first mistake was burying my best friend.

Well, no, B III is sitting on my nightstand, but you know what I mean. Speaking of black men that are threats to my safety, sanity, and self-worth, my “father.” I fought him once and lost but Braxton. My prince knowing, my dude’s in distress, jumping between us, my boy. He got kicked four feet high by my “father” into a wooden door. Braxton and I have shed the same blood in the same mud or across a kitchen floor, at least. Time to get my cry in on this Saturday, April 17. Braxton is forever my son, my brother, and my best friend. He showed such forgiveness, but when my “father” came by without me here, he sat in his bed very scared, waiting.

What I might miss the most as I sit here in bed is where he would be when I slept. I would wake up to see him on the foot of the bed on the corner, staring at the door. As I got going, he would come over, and after making sure I was okay, he would sleep; Daddy’s shift. As I confessed at some point, I’ve never woken up to a girl in the bed. Not in this house. The way Braxton and I would sleep back to back. How he’d guard the gate when we were at my Olds barking up a storm. “Remember who the real enemy is.” Braxton wouldn’t care if I was a hero or villain. The Battling Bard Braxton.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 295 ~Sounds Like B Leaving~

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There’s no alarm for “mourning.” There’s no routine for it; otherwise, I would listen to He’s My Son by Mark Schultz 24/7. “What A Heavenly Way To Die” that would be. Instead, I take a second step in the five stages of grief. “Sounds Like B Leaving.”

Thursday, April 22, 2021

Gospel 295 ~Sounds Like B Leaving~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I don’t want to make you mad, although your Dad is all sorts of pissed.

I know. It sounds like I could be doing better. Today it sounds like I’m going to talk about the good, the bad, and the ugly. Braxton, you were the soundtrack of my life. I need you to know that. Do you remember the day I said, “Braxton get in the car,” and you hopped? The first day you chose me, not my sister, not the grandparents, only me. In their new house, you barked at them in the AM defending the gate for me. The best welcome I got from you was the day your granddad was here. You jumped into my arms, whining. Braxton, the most beautiful sound was nightly. When I would say, “Night, Night Braxton, Sweet Dreams.” You’d paw the bed, settle and sleep beside me.

I hated fighting with you. There were times you would growl at me or snap. I’d be all, “you’re in trouble, the longer you hide.” You and I would both listen for one of my alarms to go off so I could call you a “good puppy” again. Your nails were pacing the floor all alone. I would call you about your meds, but it was hard for you to get down the stairs. I would carry you for so many days, but once you were outside for a walk, you were young again. You couldn’t hop in the car anymore, and I couldn’t blame you; with my final act. No, it started the day you cried… I ignored you.

I swear I thought you were going to be okay. Wednesday, you cried. By Thursday, you were back. I didn’t need the doctor to utter the words that Sunday evening. “He’s Gone.” The worst sound in the world was as I held you there and I heard your final breath. Braxton, I sat there on the stairs that day and cried like I never have before. It was the fucking silence that was killing me. How dare I? I killed you, so my going to Hell is what I deserve. For 72 days, I lived in Denial, I continue, but then the fucking ASM, ANGER. That bastard took my “peace.” Down from Denial to Anger, Up from Treachery to Anger. Always Sounds Like B Leaving.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Gospel 294 ~B Guile The Neighbors~

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If B were alive, he’d be P.O.’ed at me. Either because we’d because he can’t do his job of yard defense. Who knows what bugs are out there? It’s also a bit like the fridge; his old food was growing stuff. “B Guile The Neighbors,” looking at the yard?

Wednesday, April 21, 2021

Gospel 294 ~B Guile The Neighbors~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I can buy some arcade machines. Not that I was good at Street Fighter…

I hope my neighbors don’t think I’m just lazy. Hell, most of them don’t know that Braxton has passed. To be honest, this is Camp NaNoWriMo season, so um, the house’s a mess, and the yard’s grown wild. I want to say I’ve made it through NaNoWriMo again, hmm. Then what? I publish a book, make my million and move away someday. One more reason B is still in the box and not dust in the wind of the first yard that was all his to defend. I do imagine if he went to Heaven, he’s annoying God; Hell, he’s finally found a doggy playmate. Should I be ashamed for saying that? My shame was in killing him, so fuck my neighbors’ opinions Inspector Echo.

Pardon my French, but Braxton would be pissed with me, and that’s what matters. Is this really going to be about me not cutting the grass this week? Letting my son’s territory be overrun by, well, I don’t know anymore.

Yes, Braxton, my brave, handsome boy, with a big mouth. One day I’ll tell the story of when we first arrived. For now, there are only these facts. I cleaned the house for pretty girls, and I cut the grass for B. He’s one for security, and he never let his size or cuteness stop his bark. To the south is the front door, my job because B um… like father like son and in his defense the girl was hot. Our northern border was all his. He was Ghost, and I was Jon Snow and how we hated yep, Winter Is Coming, Or Spring now, so my problems of late. I feel more like Grey Worm. If you’ve been keeping up with “Dear Future Wife,” I am losing my Missandei too. You want a horrifying confession. Tell me I would have to lose my “man parts,” and I could have B alive and well… I wouldn’t even think twice.

You see how my mind works from Street Fighter’s Guile to Game of Thrones. As always, the background noise is what’s keeping me going without the pitter-patter of tiny paws. Because for now, I’m not going outside. Braxton would bark at them, but the grass… Can’t B Guile The Neighbors.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 293 ~Braxton Paws Is Love~

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The day I lost my son, there went my remaining love. At first, love was like a river that continued to flow, my tears, the hoodie I wear, the music. Then because of some asshole, my “peace” was shattered and replaced by Anger. “Braxton Paws Is Love.”

Tuesday, April 20, 2021

Gospel 293 ~Braxton Paws Is Love~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I’m gonna love you now. Hell, when Braxton and I had nothing, I loved him.

I love Braxton still as I love you, our children, the life we have created together. For the past Seventy-Nine Days, I have found that DENIAL has blocked and muted everything. THEY say that love is not only what you say but what you do. A Man Provides baby girl.
Feeling it and doing it, though? It’s like Braxton paused love. I’m starting to understand how THEY say you can’t love another until you love yourself. Now I never liked that. In truth, it’s a lie because I hated myself, but when B III came into my life… Wow, it’s like the same thing. He paused my hatred, the wind, the wrath. To think I complained that he distracted me but what about right now.

You are doing your best, My Love. I am not asking you for anything. Okay, you say Let Me Love You. I’m not trying to be one of those broken men who need saving ever. As you say, When You Say Nothing At All… it’s the only way I can love you right now. At the very least, I will do no harm, and it saddens me further I have to say such a thing. To have lost such love as that of my son. Then to have the evils of men reawaken my ANGER. God, it has been so easy to cocoon myself in my DENIAL. Love, always and forever. Braxton’s remains in a box, and that’s how I feel. I’m Sitting In Limbo, I hope. It was better.

Indeed, I was but until the fucking tattooed arms of men. I dare not turn my ANGER towards the innocent. It was such rage that led to such apathy. Soon I may have time to love again. Who seeks time to hate? It’s why I lie with you now as every time I get up… That’s what feeds my fury. The fact that another black man found it fitting to steal my peace as my Old Man did. I go to say bye to my boy, and my heart beats faster. My blood boils. With these hands, oh My Love I’d love, write, pet my fallen son again yes, yes. Mourn alongside me, but I won’t make you Lady Macbeth. Love… Braxton Paws Is Love.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 292 ~Crowns Are Heavier Than Mask~

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My heart remains broken… yep, better start with my head next. I swore when I started this nine days ago, I was actually less crazy. Now whatever peace I had in my insanity has been destroyed by rage. “Crowns Are Heavier Than Mask…” what about helmets

Monday, April 19, 2021

Gospel 292 ~Crowns Are Heavier Than Mask~

Hundred And Eighty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice,
I AM a Billionaire right now. But where is my kingdom, my honor, most notably, where’s my prince?

In Shakespeare’s “Richard III,” a man offers a kingdom for a horse. I can’t bear to think; I need to see a man about a dog. Yes, Madam Justice, today is going to be one of those where all I say, you’ve heard before. I’ll begin with, (ahem) all I have I’d give for Braxton. How about this oldie but goodie… A Man Provides. Saying I’ll give it all up is again an unwelcome sign of Bargaining. There is also the fact that if you have nothing, why in the Hell would you have a family? Maybe B has gone to prepare a place for me with my lazy ass. I am Odysseus trying to find his way home or seeing others steal my world.

No, because Braxton was, still is my world, and again I put his loss on no one but myself. For me to speak of honor when one of the Princes of the Universe lies before me slain by my own hand. Well, on the nightstand, because of euthanasia… overly dramatic. With all my time travel (Nine Days), Madam J, can’t we get to the portion of the program where I rule. A woman, a queen to sit beside me, children, and the wealth to do as a man, a king does. Not without B III, he was a warrior, a wonder of love, a lone wanderer. How many pop culture references was that? Um, there’s Queen, Highlander, Fallout 4, I tell you, the background noise.

Because heavy the head that wears the crown or so they say, and I could give three reasons for my own. The fact that I have never ever taken responsibility. And so with B III’s passing, I crumble. The second is that I have built myself up so much. Last, that B bore so much. So becoming a monk seemed easier. How dare I, but come and take a Walk With Me. Didn’t I confess at some point last week that I haven’t had any women in the house? Well, besides Indiana Gone and Okay the Maid. I wasn’t “producing” a family. I didn’t do “stuff and thangs” with B around. Now he can always see me. Give me my mask any day, I say. Crowns Are Heavier Than Mask

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 291 ~Bye The Letter B~

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B wasn’t an attack dog. To some, he was an angel, even when he was barking up a storm. To me, B III was a god. When you see the ending of one such as him, you no longer fear what men may do. Bye The Letter B I still must face the bullying of men

Sunday, April 18, 2021

Gospel 291 ~Bye The Letter B~

To Will:
I AM a Billionaire right now, but this week you might struggle. It’s not fear. Hope for the best; prepare for the worst.

You mean no insult to the warriors of the past, but shall you write a letter? A letter that says, if anything, the basics. I love you, I tried, I’m sorry; all the things I said to Braxton as I signed his life away. I signed my own death sentence, and I become different weekly. That’s why I say hello to you, and you could be saying goodbye to the Day Job. I find that even though Braxton is no longer here, I have no courage to lend, neither hope nor a word of peace. I don’t look a thing like Jesus. Jesus needed those three days getting War Ready.
I spent all of yesterday in bed, doing my 5000 words, denying Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Finishing Reading, Katie: A Novella by Mo Ibrahim
    Completed
  2. I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
    Partial
  3. I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH
    Failed
  4. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 107 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
    Completed (Day 114) No Fap
  5. I Am Getting In Touch With Someone About A B III Tattoo
    Failed
  6. I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am
    Failed

Now, who am I to tell you anything? I failed yet again. Listen to me, please… the ASM is a bully, and you are not afraid, but nevertheless, I ask you, stand strong and courageous. He’s the asshole like so many in high school. He’s like those bitches at Wendy’s or Hardee’s. He’s like your Old Man. For all I know, this stand may not come this week at all. What would Braxton Do? He would bark, bite, be driven under the bed, but he would return. He lasted fifteen years, a month shy of his sixteenth birthday. One decade… Believe me when I say that it’s time to grow up. From lousy report cards, teachers not calling your name, oh yeah, Six Impossible Things:

  1. I AM Finishing Reading, Succubus Lord 13 by Eric Vall
  2. I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
  3. I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH
  4. I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 114 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
  5. I Am Not Bowing To The Day Job Under Threat Or Duress
  6. I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am

I won’t hold my breath on most of these things, you know. Your war paint won’t stay on because of all your tears. After what happened to B III, the idea of pain… who needs more? I could search for a few of the greatest speeches and prayers. My offering:

“I will eternally ask your forgiveness, my son, I the father who failed you. Yet now I ask you, my good puppy, to hear me. I ask for the courage you showed against all who would do us harm. I plead for your wisdom, your good decisions. I wish for your comfort B, here, in my most desperate hours. Let me be the man you believed in no matter what.”

Prayers. Bye The Letter B

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 290 ~Orange You Glad Braxton~

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Day 76, it’s been hot, not that I’ve been outside, you know, mowing the lawn or taking a walk like B III and I would do. It’s been hot tears, rage, both from work. I have a new villain for my story. I’m trying to find peace. “Orange You Glad Braxton”

Saturday, April 17, 2021

Gospel 290 ~Orange You Glad Braxton~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, or I better be, as the school bully will be taking my lunch money. Fucking ASM.

Pardon my language My Lady but as the song goes, “Work sucks, I know.” Why we’re talking music? How about this one? “He doesn’t look a thing like Jesus. But he talks like a gentleman.” He’s more like John Seed from Far Cry 5, and I’ll die before saying YES. Without fail, I will always take responsibility for Braxton’s death; that is my failure and disgrace. But it is men like at the Day Job that brought about my rage at people and apathy towards B III. It is people like that asshole that make me believe in “Karens.” Dammit, I chose to fall upon my knees for the Day job only to stay there trying to save my son. Have I become a Nihilist?

Eric Thomas said something to the tune of; before you blow up, life will strip you to the core. I lost Braxton, and as I said, I will not kowtow to the new assistant manager, so there goes my job. Now that would leave me with nothing, and am I afraid? Losing B stole fear? I’m sitting there crying over my boy in the office. My hot tears were coursing down my face, while at the same time my blood is burning, call it fire, poison, Hell. I wish I could leave shame out of the mix, but again B has that beat. My walk of shame after his passing. Standing at the car, I was Winston Smith “1984” the moment they killed him there.

You know how THEY say God is spelled backward. I believe in B; I mean, look at it as so. I talk to him, but no one else can see. I call upon him for strength. I believe he took the fall for my sins; I am his prophet. His name is upon my heart and flesh or sometime soon. Like I was telling Indiana Gone, I want to get a tattoo of Braxton’s face underneath my forearm. Starting at the top of his head will be his nickname there.

B III
To the left: JSS (Just Survive Somehow)
To the right: EHC (Elite Hunting Club)
At the bottom: Braxton and the date he left

Below all of that will be Captain America’s shield. I think of the song Left Hand Free from Captain America: Civil War. The shield was a purpose, responsibility, duty, honor, a burden but a privilege, a love. Captain America gave it back, and still, he tried to do what’s true. I could go on, but we will be here all day, sigh. Yeah, right, I can do this all day but then again and not to make “light” of this, but I think of that monk who burned himself alive. Let’s stick with fiction in that of Saint Hakushin from Inuyasha, who became a Living Buddha. Miroku also had his “weapon,” the “Wind Tunnel,” in his right hand but held by his left. I haven’t touched my “weapon” or any of them, except my knife in weeks. Why all this holy man talk? It’s the only way I may ever see Braxton ever again. Heaven…

It beats talking about why I want the EHC lettering and Braxton’s face. In the Hostel movie franchise, they use the Bloodhound to represent their members… killers. But I want B III’s face. Let my flesh burn so I may never forget my crime or the warmth and love of Braxton. Orange You Glad Braxton.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 289 ~B Gets The Girl~

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“Tale As Old As Time Song As Old As Rhyme…” maybe not; it’s only been seventy-five days. I lost the “young” prince Braxton. I’d give the kingdom to have him back. Now I’m screaming at a lady yesterday for invading my space. B Gets The Girl.

Friday, April 16, 2021

Gospel 289 ~B Gets The Girl~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but instead of wanting to be the Prince, I’ll listen to B and be the Beast.

Now make no mistake, Braxton was a prince. Humans to dogs are owners, masters, kings, even gods but also best friends. With all the regrets of how I was nowhere near the best daddy to him. I am saddened by the fact that Braxton never made any doggy friends ever. Her name was Greta. I can’t remember what kind of dog she was, only that she and B were about the same height. We met her when we lived with my Olds (B III’s grandparents). I’d take him around the block, um, when it was “safer” being a black man.
Sorry, I don’t mean to get awfully political today. Anyway, so Greta would come up to say hello, and what do you think he did?

Braxton might not have been one with the furry chicks but my type of girls. I shouldn’t say that either; otherwise, she and I would have been together. For now, she remains my second BFF. I often said that the first girl that wins B’s heart I’d marry. Sorry, Braxton. Her name is Indiana Gone (not a fact, you know). While I was busy getting all handsy with the maid, B could not keep his paws off Indiana Gone. I’m sure I’ve told this story before how he hated her guts at first but like father like son. B Squared was one for her Yabbos. So here I am explaining to my son that he has to be a gentleman. Nope, he was a beast.

Only I would not let him, as Trevor Philips put it, “rut like beasts.” I swear, sometimes I felt like a pimp, people bugging us, wanting to buy him, and talking about breeding. The lowest offer for Braxton was $500.00, the highest $900. I should have gotten him a sister. Do you want to hear a confession? I’ve never got some “cuddy” in this house; my hand to God truth. We’re talking well… years. Now B Squared for all his barking, chasing, and then running from girls. Triple B was a virgin, and I didn’t have the heart to neuter. I’m continuing to line up regrets, no playmates, taking better care, and he never got to meet my new family.

Heaven… B Gets The Girl

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 288 ~Braxton Is, Write Will~

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I much rather be writing letters to my son than having to contemplate going to HR again today. How about explaining to my Olds about really becoming a starving artist? No matter how confusing, I do write better than I speak. “Braxton Is, Write Will.”

Thursday, April 15, 2021

Gospel 288 ~Braxton Is, Write Will~

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day; has your day begun? Is the Rainbow Bridge like the Rainbow Road a timed event?

It wasn’t a race you had to win, and yet you did. That explains why I’ve been listening to “Run Boy Run” on the playlist I made for you or me, us… I don’t know. While I have nothing to say to God, that line from He’s My Son echoes, “if you can hear me, let me take his place somehow.” It’s a simple request, and if I had written anything that touches others the way that line makes me bawl? I could have stopped you from leaving, you know, like putting up some gate. It wasn’t money or the doctors, Braxton it was time. Two years ago, I paid money to publish Gulp, and here I am two years later without you or anything.

You have been here for every story I’ve ever written. Well, minus that one when turkeys took over the whole world. Where has the hunger gone, I ask you? Wasn’t it right after you left? I signed the papers, and I turned ravenous, at least physically, from famine to feast. It still hurts, you know, even when I shop online. Hell, even before I do that, I sit here doing the budget again. Your needs are no longer part of the mathematical equation unless we count the water bill. That’s where your grandparents step in. I should be writing checks. Instead, I book shopping trips, and the food disappears. I buy books from infamous figures. The background is plagued with noise from unwatched shows, Youtube.

If writing paid for this, who knows where you would be my B; still alive? Instead, I continue to work the Day Job I hate and write lackadaisically at best. You would sit here with me, or at 2:00 AM, you’d be in your bed waiting. I’d come in, and you’d wake up to get in my bed. If I wasn’t going to be serious about my writing, the least I could do is spend more time with you. I Only Want To Be With You, like Janine and her Charlotte in The Handmaid’s Tale. Another book, a show, a concept more remarkable than mine. Yours ended but my library… Braxton, perhaps that was your last lesson. I am your father, a “writer.” To be all, Braxton Is, Write Will

Always and Forever,
Your Dad