Gospel 280 ~Ain’t This A B~

On Easter Sunday, everyone was celebrating the resurrection with Jesus dying for all sins. I tell you that Braxton died for my sin and bringing him back day after day. Hell, like back then, religion is hard work. Ain’t This A B, and I deserve it

Wednesday, April 7, 2021

Gospel 280 ~Ain’t This A B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I must be a Smooth Criminal as the song goes. No, I’m damn horrible.

Is that why I’m studying crime? Inspector Echo, I’m not like some girl “No Offense” exploring all the crime shows. Although I’m beginning to understand why they do. If the world is any indication, women watch things like; SVU as the paper; hell, my history. More like what women think of me. Anyway, as has become routine, anytime I get scared, I’m doing something wrong. I only remember one thing. Braxton is dead because… Yeah, I’m guilty. I killed my best friend; I’m always waiting on my judgment Inspector. The paperwork is still sitting on the coffee table and my nightstand. My Braxton is around my neck and with his other ashes. I keep talking about a tattoo with cremation ink but of what exactly?

This morning (Saturday, April 3), as always, “Time-Travel.” Okay, besides B III and his name and possibly his picture. I was thinking of getting an EHC “Elite Hunting Club” emblem, the Bloodhound. Or I’ll only stick with Braxton’s face, but I spoke to M Anime.
We talked about the Hostel series and the idea of killing somebody in the fictional world, of course. “Hostel” is pretty brutal by my standards but then again, The Purge or a Zombie Apocalypse? With what I did to B, though, how can I conceive taking any life at all? Marking myself like that might not help my case any; when it comes to the ladies. Not that I’m looking… I’m trying not to women or getting a new dog.

As Sade sings, “Is It A Crime.” I’ll love B III always and forever, but such a love can’t be matched. Oh, “This love is killing me,” Echo, and it’s what I deserve. I deny myself the world, and I don’t want it back. But I’m not taking care of myself either. Why should I? Inspector, I continue to seek justice. Take, for example, yesterday what I got from Amazon. I’ve read authors who’ve gone off to jail, but I can’t even show you this book. If I’m not reading, I should write, but I’m falling way behind with Camp this year, you know. Lots of lives were lost, including mine, because for fifteen years I chose love and without hate… Ain’t This A B?

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 273 ~For Once B Write~

This will be the first Camp NaNoWriMo that Braxton won’t be here. My writing buddy, my words were supposed to save us. Maybe if I had written to God instead. The Vet told me there was nothing to do but with a higher number. For Once B Write, I failed

Wednesday, March 31, 2021

Gospel 273 ~For Once B Write~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so how am I still living on my knees, my belly, landing flat on my face?

“Please” is a word I’ve been using less sarcastically nowadays. Yeah, please, I’m not in retail; I’m a writer. It’s been more like please and thank you to people. Of course, I should be polite. It’s not only because of B III. Please, God, Doctor, anybody save my Little B. Hell, I’ll never forget how I was crawling along after him. How I was on my knees before taking him in. As the song goes, “No one laughs at God in a hospital.” I was sitting, well falling to my knees as Braxton left me alone in this world. How dare I ask for anything? Most days, I’m an atheist through and through, though I push agnosticism. Funny and sad, no human’s made me feel…

“All I know is the child is my warrant… And if he is not the word of God, then God never spoke.” –

“Person-like?” A man, a father, a writer, somebody, anybody. Again I think man evolved but not for the likes of me. No, I’m a primate, an ape, a monster, which is why most of my stories deal only with men. Okay, an android here or there and one of my characters evolving. On Twitter this morning (Saturday, March 27), I saw #SoTheLastTimeIHadSex. I still want a family Inspector Echo. That’s another thing I don’t write about. Wasn’t I working on a Christmas story at some point, “Look A Thing Like Santa?” Yeah, Braxton had a role in my tale too. Now here we are on my last day of… again, I never know anymore. Camp NaNoWriMo is about to start, and what am I going to write about or complete?

Poetry or Prose? Not a day goes by where I don’t imagine, “if only I had finished GULP,” where would B III be? I wouldn’t have been at the Day Job, that’s for damn sure. I could have paid a bit more attention. Maybe it was the water he was getting, those hotdogs, his food. I want to write a book for him since I’ve given up reading about dogs for now. While a good story, a Dog’s Purpose didn’t do me any favors when it comes to… what healing? Did I ever believe writing does that? It’s been two months now today, Braxton’s death. If I start my former series again… I’ll kill him?

Braxton’s character, which wouldn’t be right? For Once B Write

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 266 ~B III Of Numbers~

I’ll be broke again “financially,” speaking soon enough. I’m still “broken.” It’s been seven weeks. A lost son times 7 weeks, plus $1400, divided by a week in a “different” Hell the (Day Job). B III Of Numbers, not as long as I’m still breathing

Wednesday, March 24, 2021

Gospel 266 ~B III Of Numbers~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, with an extra $1,400 to spend. I’m not ungrateful, but what happened with my last check?

Is it a sin to keep retelling the same story? For now, Inspector Echo, consider it my confession, my condemnation. Perhaps one day my coup de grâce because it kills me to repeat it. Yet I’m in Hell now, and someone said that’s what, Hell is my dear, repetition. I still hate math, but here we go. So I have $600, and $100 of that goes for B III’s annual check-up. I put $500 in savings because those fuckers at Serra Hyundai tried to get it. That was late last year. January 27, a Wednesday, I ignore Braxton. He cries that night but by morning seems okay. That evening I worry. Friday, we’re at the vet, and there goes the other $500… running his tests.

I didn’t want to spend the money; I was mad. I called my mother, and she sent an additional $150. Then there was one day, that Saturday, I would have given up everything to save him. Banfield isn’t Serra. They never asked for $500 flat-out. Then there was only $323.60 and one word, Euthanasia. After that, the money, my sweet buttery Jesus, the cash. It didn’t mean a damn thing anymore. I still have the Day Job, of course. It’s Saturday now as I’m writing this because, as I said, this week is sucking, right? So I wonder how much of my Stimulus Check is left in only, yeah, a week. You know, The Triage Method… more like the Braxton method. His wants, wishes, Will

I want to tell you I’ll spend most of it on him. If I paid it before, it wouldn’t be on frames, candles, a headstone. I’ve looked at things I can put his face on. My own “Scarlet Letter.” No, I shouldn’t say that about Braxton, but I want to get a tattoo with the ashes. Inspector Echo, does that creep you out? I’ll take that over living the life of a selfish man. Make no mistake Inspector Echo, I still am as I look for distractions. Hell, aren’t I a good American wanting to spend the Benjamins as soon as possible? Tossing cookies already? Worse yet is How To Save A Life. Mine or some furry soul… after seven weeks? B III Of Numbers.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 259 ~It’s Messy B Leaving~

I’m not much of a neat freak. I only clean when pretty girls or hateful fathers come by. Braxton, though, if he didn’t go outside, it meant his bathroom spot needed cleaning, and with my hours, sometimes I would walk in and wow. It’s Messy B Leaving.

Wednesday, March 17, 2021

Gospel 259 ~It’s Messy B Leaving~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I still want to change my future kid’s diapers. No, Braxton’s bathroom pad, once more.

Shit, it’s been, um wow, forty-five days, while I am still very much attached to Braxton today. Inspector Echo, B III’s pad has been clean since he left me. What’re a few more smells to miss? I would indeed live in that filth than how I’ve been spending forty-five days. Disgusting, who am I to say, nature’s calling. I still haven’t checked the fridge when it comes to his food. Maybe I should donate it to a pet shelter, hmm? One, what if it was the food that took my son? Two, if I give it away, who’s to say I wouldn’t look around some. And three I saw a dog on Sunday but I didn’t want him or her. One Deer Head Chihuahua, please…

Not that many people giving them up, and what about buying one? With all the money I’m spending daily, and nothing is helping. I’ve thought again about buying more guns, but I’m trying to stay far away from the ones I do have. What’s one more sin, but then B? To you, Inspector Echo, this is as close to “Bargaining” as I’m going to get. How many sins have I renounced trying to what… talk my way into Heaven? Anything to see Braxton again because I know he isn’t coming back here. Yeah, says the man refilling a water bowl. I hid things from Braxton, I’ll admit that. What parent doesn’t? Lead me not into temptation, so I’m cleaning out my closet or stuffing it?

Nothing else to think about other than my son, warm in his bed. For a bit longer without one single breath. He was a mess, and so was I as the vet and her assistant looked on. You know how I hate to leave a mess, but by all accounts, I did that day… Braxton. Inspector Echo, my heart to this day is broken, my soul is shattered, and my mind. As the song goes, where is my mind? No longer in the trash, the gutter, the filth unless you count specific books and music. I want to continue to deny everything, to let go of anger, and Heaven isn’t too far away, is it?

Was that joke dark or messy? It’s Messy B Leaving

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 252 ~Braxton Was Full Of…~

How many times would Braxton come running into my room, and I would have to check his bathroom pad, or I would ask, “B Squared, did you eat everything?” My bed feels wrong when he isn’t cuddled beside me or, on the end, guarding. Braxton Was Full Of…

Wednesday, March 10, 2021

Gospel 252 ~Braxton Was Full Of…~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I’m “hanging tough, staying hungry,” as the song goes. As Braxton did, towards The End.

Belly pains hint that I should join him. No, I’m not starving Inspector Echo. You should have heard me rattling off food choices to Indiana Gone. Steak and Potato Soup, Buffalo Wings, Shrimp & Pasta, Boston Market Salisbury Steak. Not quite three squares a day. Remember how much I would share with Braxton? Sometimes I think my hands have forgotten how to move. If I’m not letting B III dabble, then I’m making a mess of myself. I keep saying it, but maybe that’s why I’m picking stuff that I didn’t give or I couldn’t. Always going to Subway now (no fries). I’m jonesing for onion rings. My nephew was here, and we talked about why I had gummy bears and didn’t like chocolate much.

X-Men, Pokemon, what cartoons do the kids watch these days? Braxton is easy. When he isn’t stuffing his face or pretending to, much to my shame. Braxton is filling his little deer-head full of intel. Sundays, he’s quiet, TWD; we’d ride out the apocalypse together. The truth, and I’ve never said this aloud, but at least when B III barks, he is trying to help me somehow. Other than Indiana Gone, M Anime, Cherry, and my mom, people’s words are only noise. It’s like being stuck in Charlie Brown’s world, but he’ll always have Snoopy. Oh, and I’m not discounting people on Facebook, the Mamas, the Papas, the Grandma. Braxton’s Life Matters. It is full of love, or so I try to tell myself now.

Okay, I talked to Indiana Gone (second BFF) last night, and it started innocently enough. With Triple B gone, I’m touched starved. I don’t know how I would “Just Survive Somehow” in 2020. Inspector Echo, no matter what, 2021 is the worst year imaginable, January 31. Anyway, we talked about me having friends, and I reminded her how I keep score. Then I looked around at the table full of Braxton’s treats, his full water bowl. His pillow empty, aside from his toy. In my room is his empty bed with his last collar. Around my neck is his pendant full of… Braxton, his remains, his spirit, what speck of him did they get, hmm?

Vacancies in Heaven, why my Braxton? Braxton Was Full Of…

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 245 ~Dollar Every Time Braxton~

I’d be broke is the answer, but what is the question? If I had a dollar every time, I thought of myself rather than him. One dollar for when Braxton showed me loved me, well then I wouldn’t just be rich, I would be wealthy, Dollar Every Time Braxton.

Wednesday, March 3, 2021

Gospel 245 ~Dollar Every Time Braxton~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but I still shop at Walmart. When’s the last time I went to Macdonald’s? Missing PetSmart…

Every day I’m missing Braxton. Hell, I miss being “broke.” I am growing into the brokenness of my heart and mind. Well, I still don’t have any money, but I’m wasting what I do have on books that make me feel worse. For real, I’m saving money which is horrible to admit. I know why. I could have bought Braxton stairs for my bed. Now I’m looking for a headstone. Didn’t I say before, I’ve finally started going back into Walmart but only for chicken and Subway. Inspector, I’m spending money like there’s no tomorrow. Oh, I wish there wasn’t. I get sick often enough because I’m always eating and still hungry. Maybe I could spend money on a new bed to be exhausted in. My “father” would appreciate furniture.

One of these days, I will finally frame these vet bills. It was $100 to tell me he’s still alive. $500 to tell me he won’t be. $300 and “I See Fire.” I’ve been second-guessing everything, like his food and water. I bought cheese and hotdogs for “medicine time.” To this day, I continue to live the life of a selfish man. How dare I.

On the one hand, Inspector Echo, I’m pulling an “Eastman” from The Walking Dead. I’ve believed I’m going to Hell. I know this is Hell. Now I’m trying every day to avoid it because I want to see Braxton. I hope someday. Once again, I spend every dollar to punish myself because nothing I have now is making things better. When you kill, right, Inspector?

The price is too damn high. I swore I would pay anything to make Braxton okay, and didn’t I? Only all the dollars in the world aren’t going to bring him back. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it… Another furry kid, but I’d only want a Deer-Head Chihuahua. Inspector Echo, I don’t know how much my “father” paid for Braxton, but to me, he was priceless. All dogs deserve homes, but I’m of the hoity-totiy sort “Pureblood.” What the Hell am I going to do? All my distractions catch up at the end of the month, no doubt? Most of all, I can ill afford this black mark on my soul. Betrayal, Treachery… Ninth-Circle offenses, now if only I had a Dollar Every Time Braxton…

I Am Afraid Without Braxton

Gospel 238 ~The Meanie Of Braxton~

Open the door, close it. That’s what I want to tell my father. Braxton still loved him despite everything. But Braxton wouldn’t move when he was around, scared, as was I. Damn termite guy. If my father dares moves anything… The Meanie Of Braxton

Wednesday, February 24, 2021

Gospel 238 ~The Meanie Of Braxton~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but there is only so much hair, so many treats left, and what about training pads?

Inspector Echo, this is my Braxton’s home. I can look at where he lies in that box all day long, but this place, all of it is ours. I said it the day I came back after… Nothing is going to change. Well, other than the nightstand that no longer carries my savings and knives. Money, blades, my 9mm. I haven’t really touched them since February 10. I’m a father without a son anymore, but I’m still Daddy, and as I protected him, he would defend me. What are we so afraid of? He would shake and jump; I’d load up and grab a knife too. Like father like son, we became mean because of one person. Braxton’s grandfather, or to be clear, my “father.”

B and I are dead to the world, or at least I try to be. I feel nothing, or I can’t stop crying. The closest I get past the 5 Stages Of Grief is ANGER. I hate myself for what I’ve done. But I’ve said it before, I was in the FUCKING PARKING LOT, “get a new dog,” my dad said. He’s had two dogs himself at different times, Rottweilers. My father called them family dogs, security. My sister and I never played with them, well, pass the puppy stage. They lived outside in their own cage. When each one died, the family, well, nothing. Inspector Echo, I’ve had a few dogs in my life. I will never say I’m the best man but Braxton…

Fifteen years, he is my son. I would die for him then, and I will die for him now. To protect everything, he was to me. I haven’t found much to be afraid of, though I am or much to be ashamed of. Yet again, I’m guilty. I’m living a lie that he is with me, but he’s not Echo. Now I get a call from my father about the damn termite guy, and I won’t be here, but my father will be. My first fear has been telling him I don’t want to talk about another dog and walking in, and he’s brought one. I begged for a dog. My sister got Braxton… figures.
There’s not much chance of him bringing another dog here.

Second, he’ll try to wipe away Braxton’s memory. EVERYTHING FUCKING STAYS. If he were to pull something as such? My father and I have fought once, and Braxton tried to protect me. Same blood, same mud; Braxton and I only had each other against him. The last fear is that if my father did such a thing? If I could follow Braxton wherever? Before that, though… no harm would come to Braxton, I swore it in this house. My anger, my rage against my father. Better he opens the door and closes it, otherwise. Fighting For The Meanie Of Braxton.

I Am Afraid Without Braxton

Gospel 231 ~Braxton And P Breaks~

Braxton needs what, and I’m paying who again… Patreon or somebody else? Most of the time, I don’t bother to check my accounts. It might help, though, an exercise that everything is normal but without Braxton. Braxton And P Breaks.

Wednesday, February 17, 2021

Gospel 231 ~Braxton And P Breaks~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now… putting that out there as I would, Braxton. Pretending with those aspects of my life now.

Probably should get some air, but I’ve only opened the backdoor once since January 31. Braxton is like me, we both hate the cold, but we would look at the snow. I shouldn’t have said that. Every time I remember Braxton’s eyes, his final look, I break down crying. Prayers aren’t for God, though. I haven’t spoken to God since last month again. It’s one part of my routine that’s broken. There are more tears when I forget, or there’s just no need. This will be the third week, and as I shook his medicine bottles calling “Braxton.” People will be upset or not. It could be both. It’s not like I can call the vet and order more meds. The water company should be thrilled, but not whoever the people are that make bathroom pads. Some are sick of me talking about him. My friends have their own stuff.

Piping up now only to speak to B III. I’m not sure how to stop it; I don’t want to. I’ve said it often enough, every day. “Medicine time,” Night, Night Braxton,” “Just Me Baby B,” I won’t stop myself.

My Olds would laugh at me for talking to myself but with Braxton’s deafening silence…

Postulating any idea of sanity seems out of the question. Will Smith said something to the tune of, does thinking you’re the last sane man make you crazy? Susanna Kaysen wrote, Crazy is you or me amplified. To me, everything about life feels plain wrong. Painful, a crime. It’s why I haven’t done anything, as someone would say, STUPID. My biggest fear was I wouldn’t be here for him. Now 8:00 AM, his meds and water, so I get a bite. 11:00 AM, outside and breakfast. 5:00 PM more water, 8:00 PM meds, and dinner.

Prolonging the pain as long as possible for myself. How long did Braxton suffer? Five days… he was crying Wednesday, stopped eating Thursday, and it goes on. He needed a break. A break from his pops, his father, his daddy. Now that he wouldn’t pretend. Pretending, though, that’s me since the day Braxton Slipped Away. And people talk about puppies. Progressing through grief and other problems. When I want is to believe Braxton is right outside. Braxton And P Breaks.

I Am Afraid Without Braxton

Gospel 224 ~Braxton Barks But Will~

He’s still here, at least when it comes to my mouth saying “medicine time” and “night, night Braxton, sweet dreams,” etc. His water bowl is freshly filled, gates are opened, blinds too for sunlight. Braxton Barks But Will listen to me go insane

Wednesday, February 10, 2021

Gospel 224 ~Braxton Barks But Will~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I’m surprised there really isn’t an echo. It’s only me repeating routine, again and again.

Look for me going downstairs. “Good morning, Braxton! Sorry, I didn’t say that sooner,” but he always understood it took me a while to get going. So much so that again, I would repeat myself. Once was for his medicine but also as I left out the door before praying. Lounge around after treats as I leave. “Good Puppy, good puppy, Be Good Puppy. I’ll be back. I love you. Make good decisions. Always make Good Decisions.” Afterward, “I’m out the door. Be Good Puppy, Make Good Decisions. I Love You B, Love You Braxton. Lie around, I thought to myself, though he would guard the house. He must have been thinking I was crazy back then. No, it’s only been ten days, only TEN!!!

Listen for me to come home. Other than Indiana Gone being here or my “father” being by Braxton would hear me utter the same greeting. “Just Me, Baby B. You have a good day?” Even on our last “normal” day as I passed out on the bed. He needed attention. Licking my face because he knew what was wrong with me was more important. I know it wasn’t. He is my son; he’s what matters. The pain in my mind was nothing to the hurt in his body and soul. Oh, look, my third cry of the day, and the day has not begun yet. Laugh at me, and he was capable, but it didn’t hurt so much when he did. Good times were better.

Long for those, and we both did. Now, as I was telling Indiana Gone, my best… Nope, she’s still my second best friend; Braxton will always be first. Anyway, I said to her that everything good feels wrong. Having fries, going shopping, even writing today. Like where is he to again lay by my side? To jump up every time there is a noise. He would be excited when something would come to the front door, presents… I said this is my third bout of tears. The first was when Amazon delivered Braxton’s tiny pendant. Love lunatics… I think we were. “So what if I’m crazy? The best people are,” as the song goes. He believes it because I’m listening as Braxton Barks But Will.

I Am Afraid Without Braxton

Gospel 217 ~You’re Killing Me, Will~

I believed the worst crime any human could possibly commit is the destruction of another person’s soul. Hell, I would give mine to God or sell it to the Devil if either brought back my son, my best friend but why is he gone? “You’re Killing Me, Will”

Wednesday, February 3, 2021

Gospel 217 ~You’re Killing Me, Will~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. There I said it because; only a “rich” man… Inspector, no one is above the law.

I am GUILTY of Misanthropy, Murder, and Madness. Misanthropy like a mother fucker (pardon my language). It started Wednesday of last week. I came home, and I was tired. God, I was so tired, and all Braxton wanted was my attention. The one life who gave a damn about me, and I ignored him because I was done with people. There’s this girl at work that’s been ever so sweet since his passing. Only she doesn’t know how to talk to me. Hell, I don’t know what to say. I wouldn’t have to say anything if I had been reading the signs that night. Only by hating people, I didn’t care for him. That’s how it started, Inspector, I killed Braxton, I killed my son.

Murderer… I don’t want to be a murderer. I am, though. Not the vets, no, not in the slightest, they gave him mercy. I thank them for their service. There was nobody else, only me, Inspector Echo. To think what I worried about all last week, STUPIDITY. Let the cops take me to jail, after what I’ve done to my son. For nearly five days, I ignored him Wednesday, my greed Thursday, my hesitation Friday. I let go of everything Saturday, and I prayed. I was on my knees praying, following, cleaning. Sunday, I gathered him up and murdered him.

Madness, fucking madness!!! Not Anger, not yet anyway. Well, other than at my “father.” Braxton’s body was still warm, and my father says, “get a new DOG.” They would say I’m still in Denial. I always open his gates as if he were walking with me. Every day I refill his water bowl. The trash was picked up today, but I didn’t throw out a scrap of his food. I won’t wash his bed, the sheets, my hoodie, which I’m still wearing. I walk into his room and lay down a treat. Three treats for three days. I keep his final papers, so I’ll never forget Inspector Echo. I need to see the proof of what I PAID for!!! I did this, Braxton is dead because of my Hate, with my Help, and now I dream of Heaven to be.

His last look, I swear, “Daddy.” You’re Killing Me, Will.

I Am Afraid Without Braxton