Category: Inspector Echo

Gospel 329 ~To Understand Braxton’s Writes~

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How often did I write about Braxton before? It’s still such a shame it took his passing for me to put his name on the page. Still, he was a minority, Chihuahua, an only child, and he loved me even in stories. To Understand Braxton’s Writes.

Wednesday, May 26, 2021

Gospel 329 ~To Understand Braxton’s Writes~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and like any other American, I have the right to remain silent. I won’t, though, nope.

If I had my way, to fulfill a “promise” I made to Madam Justice. I would much rather talk about Copious Cleavage, Titanic Ta-tas, Supersized Slobber Knockers. Indeed my shame. So if it’s not going to be about “stuff and thangs.” If you don’t understand by now, my euphemism for sex. I wish I could forget about my rage and wrath at the Day Job. Inspector Echo, that’s a lie because the only person I hate more than the ASM and my father at this point is myself. For the high crime, I won’t shut up about. I killed my son. It’s been 115 days. Braxton still appears, if not the main subject of my blogging, journaling, confessing. Pray tell, is this Exhibit A?

Did I tell you I killed Braxton twice? My first offering writing with Camp NaNoWriMo in April was to end Bastian “Barks” Bennett. Bastian was the adopted Mexican child of the main protagonist. Antagonist… Father Win William Bridgman. Novels mourn freely. While on the subject of Camp NaNoWriMo, I believe the next one is in July. I intend to write about the real Braxton Barks Bradford but is it out of love or laziness? I want to put the letters I’ve been writing to him in it, but that means so much of the work’s complete. Not only do I feel like a cheater but to exploit Braxton in such a way. My tragedy, my woe, “Is It A Crime” Inspector. One more for the list.

As you know, it’s sort of hard to be into “stuff and thangs” when all I do is mourn B III. I signed up again for “stuff and thangs,” what was it Friday, and they rejected me. It’s still Saturday, and you’re the fourth girl I’ve talked to. Yes, this week sucks… is it worse? Inspector, I should have spoken to Braxton more, even if it meant writing less. What was it? Four years ago I started writing about, you know who. And every day since it’s been these words, these words, these words Echo. They have power, and fuck what I wanted to do, I want them to bring Braxton back… they never do. Keeping love alive, rather than hate. To Understand Braxton’s Writes

115 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 322 ~Needling Away Might B…~

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Plenty of religious movies that say Mark of the Beast this; shot that, but I’m not a man of faith. If Trumptards are against this, then it must be good. My son B III would want his Dad alive. To vaccinate or not, against COVID? Needling Away Might B…

Wednesday, May 19, 2021

Gospel 322 ~Needling Away Might B…~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, a proud American, a good father, and an alright man. Like before, it’s fun to dream.

Since I’ll say I’m a Billionaire tomorrow, let me focus on being an American. The American Dream. Before B III, I was in the military, In The Navy but only a few weeks of Basic Training. That was the last time I ever intentionally saw a needle for myself, Echo. Now Braxton saw plenty, including his last one… we’ll get to that soon. Anyway, I don’t understand why this is such a hard decision to vaccinate or not from COVID-19. I’m not a Stupid Trumptard. Inspector Echo, I trust the science and want to do my part, USA yay. Honor, Courage, Commitment, yeah, one more reason I didn’t stick to my guns, literally on some ship. Nobody’s saying I can’t still wear my mask around…

I wasn’t when B took all his needles from the first to the last. Hell, half the time, I laughed, always telling him, “Be A Man B.” He’s a scaredy-cat…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMbcOC5dS5k

Anytime we went into PetSmart or over to Banfield, it was like he was walking The Green Mile. Or it was Room 101 from the book 1984 (scary). Allow me to be overly dramatic. If it were between having Braxton looking at me those last moments or the cage with the rats? He’s not asking me to do that, though. Braxton would want me to be healthy and safe, especially since he’s no longer here to protect me. If the vaccine did kill me, well, like I’ve been saying, I’ve got it coming. It’s deserved. Does it beat exploding “Spontaneous?”

Yes, I’m still a grown man obsessed with a movie about high school. I’d be lying if I said a bit of peer pressure wasn’t involved with my decision. What, I’ve made a decision? That explains why I have been sleeping so late or Depression? It’s almost 7:00 AM, shame. A “decent” man once said, “Listen to the woman,” or women in this case. I would do anything for a pretty girl. My second BFF hasn’t gotten the vaccine, but her hubby has. A woman I’m hoping to do “stuff and thangs” with is pleading with me not to take it. What kind of man am I then? Braxton’s father always, forever, and would he be proud of me after yesterday… Needling Away Might B…

108 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 315 ~A Mom’s B Leaving~

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Once in my life, I wanted to be a fighter pilot. Not really to serve but “reasons.” I don’t blame people for not counting on me. I can’t trust myself. But to not be a good enough son or especially a father because I’ll “F Up.” A Mom’s B Leaving.

Wednesday, May 12, 2021

Gospel 315 ~A Mom’s B Leaving~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I know it won’t be because of puns. Hell, I’ll take care of my mom.

Did that sound “sinister,” Inspector? You know what I mean, but I wasn’t even able to look after B III. It’s why he’s on the nightstand and not on the bed. I was saying today, May 8… yes, it’s going to be a bad week; I was thinking of that song “You Were Loved,” yep. Like mother like son, I guess. My Ma’s a big fan of Whitney Houston. While I can’t say I am, this song has made it onto my playlist for B III. Well, that is until the fucking ASM took it away from me. Should I be ashamed I’m still going on about that meathead bastard? Anyway, there is one verse that keeps playing between Charlie Brown’s language and my RAGE.

“When somebody cares that you’re alive
When somebody trusts you with their life.”
You Were Loved by Whitney Houston

My Ma doesn’t trust me. I’m always one to be direct, like saying I killed Braxton. Let me share a story with you. One night, still living with My Olds in my late twenties… another part of my shame? Okay, it’s late enough that Braxton stayed within his comfy spot. Strangely enough, my Ma comes downstairs and leaves. She didn’t say a word, only she hopped in the car and drove away. I figured something happened to my “father’s” truck, and she went to pick him up or something. In the morning, I found out she thought she was having a heart attack and drove to the nearby fire station for help. She could have died, but she didn’t trust me enough to say “HELP.”

Now I could play it as her wanting to protect me. A mother protects her kids, and she didn’t want me to see her like that. But something happened at the Day Job, and um, I have two words for you “short bus.” We’ll get into that at some point, but yep Ma and B. Ma knew I’d fuck up.

Does Braxton feel the same way? Every Wednesday, I remember him crying, and I ignored him, and come Thursday, it was as if he’d gotten over it. I have admired his strength over those last days, but no Inspector Echo. He knew his Daddy couldn’t make it better, but he had to save himself. Braxton didn’t fail; I did. Fuck up. A Mom’s B Leaving

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 308 ~When Braxton Throws Shade~

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Many things went over B’s head, covers, underneath the bed, the roof of his dog house, the fact that I would bring his water to him, and he didn’t have to be so strong. Now he’s over my head, probably giving me that look. “When Braxton Throws Shade.”

Wednesday, May 5, 2021

Gospel 308 ~When Braxton Throws Shade~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I lie better than most. I lied plenty with Braxton. My ultimate betrayal, though…

Yes, allow me to be selfish, Inspector Echo. Hell, let Hank Hill be a better father than me. He said that he was never ashamed of Bobby. I can say I was never ashamed of Braxton, but on January 31, 2021. No, it wasn’t him; it had more to do with me when everyone saw he was dying. There was the moment I walked in with his things and then without him. Picking up remains…

Okay, now that I’ve cried a fourth time today. Inspector Echo, this is what I get for my time machine antics. It’s Saturday, May 1, 2021, so that means next week will be hot garbage SIGH. Yep much like the ASM. If I hadn’t been fired already. Yeah, throwing shade. Echo, I can share so many moments of B III throwing shade but let’s focus on the basics; it was going over his head. I mean that when Braxton would hide under the bed often enough, even on that final day. It wasn’t like he was going to die, right…

My brave boy was sick of me babying him all day long. I know this is an old story. How many times I said, “I’ll help you.” I brought his water to him, but he rejected it. Braxton could walk except out the front door, into the vet’s office, or out. That’s not funny, Echo. I remember the day I thought I lost him. I was all outside in the backyard looking for him calling, then rushing back into the house. B III was in his doghouse, waking to craziness. I can’t blame him; I mean, have you met me.

I make MCD’s look pretty good. There were many times he would sit in the Den waiting for me to show up. Nope, he wasn’t worried about my day. Just start sharing the fries. Serves me right how he died. He ignored me for love of food. And I hated humanity. Inspector Echo, he wasn’t fond of people either for sure. Let Daddy go out and deal with them while he keeps his head under the covers. Literally, Echo, the sun didn’t shine until I was home and opened the shades so he could tan. Now When Braxton Throws Shade…

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 301 ~Can Count On B~

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15 years, 15 years, and near his 16th birthday found out here wasn’t here. I don’t know why I channeled Kanye West this morning, but I can always count on the background noise. Like me failing, or the Day Job, to make me mad. Can Count On B

Wednesday, April 28, 2021

Gospel 301 ~Can Count On B~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which isn’t something to be bragging about, considering when it comes to my son. Braxton counts.

How many times have I said it; Braxton’s Life Matters. Those are three little words like “I love you,” “I miss you,” “I’m sorry B,” “I’ll help you,” so it goes. Numbers Inspector Echo. Fifteen years Inspector Echo and I so want to say sixteen. Would twenty be enough for me? Hell, I wanted all of his tiny little tan/beige hairs to turn Grey. Braxton the Grey, or Braxton the White. Does that sound mean? No meaner than saying that he wanted to go. In two days, it will be official. Braxton and I haven’t been apart longer than two months and some change. But May 1 will mark three months. Will I still be crying every day for him? I shouldn’t jinx myself, hmm.

I keep talking about step two of the Five Stages of Grief. Inspector Echo, I don’t know if my anger has subsided yet. As usual, I am traveling the sands of time lost because indeed I am so. B III was my constant even in death. Today is April 22, and I’m lying in this bed. The ideas that come… not those, for I am still a monk. By the time I see this again, I won’t have 5000 words to worry about. Now that will mean I’ve done my first NaNoWriMo without B III. I don’t expect the feeling will change much but with my anger at the ASM. Let’s say I do publish. I make enough to quit the Day Job, a bargain.

No matter how much I get, none of it would buy back one day I lost with B. The last five that we would have. As the song goes, “All around me are familiar faces. Worn out places, worn out faces.” I see new babies, fur babies, and how many times have I said, No? Inspector, I lost my family. I don’t deserve another; not like any could compare. That’s the thought that keeps me here. One day I will run out of treats to place in Braxton’s room. Sooner or later, I will look at these Chihuahuas and, unlike God, will say I’m lonely. Always and forever, I will remember my son. He counted on me, and what happened? I Can Count On B.

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

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 287 ~B The Clock Challenge~

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Geez, what time is it? Let me rub the sleep from my eyes, or pollen, fur, doesn’t matter. I’ll never see my boy in this life again. I should probably stop crying with all these traditional books lying around but so little time. B The Clock Challenge.

Gospel 287 ~B The Clock Challenge~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and it wouldn’t matter if I had a Rolex or Omega watch. Telling time is hard.

Would you think I would be embarrassed by that? I the time-traveler; I mean, I can do it, but just like driving a stickshift, an automatic and a digital watch is easier. If anything, I could always use a few more hands. Mine are still stained with fur and blood… figuratively. People are sick of me talking about my kid, well, those who know. I’m speaking to you on April 8. Who am I to say what Indian Gone or M Anime thinks by now. My time is split between B, the Day Job, trying to stay awake, and as Taylor Swift sings, Blank Space. Who am I kidding? Braxton is always there. You would think I’d be earlier for the Day Job but B?

There is so much left to do for him, Inspector Echo, and how did I spend my morning. As I said, everything is about him, so I wrote him another letter. How about that tattoo I want of him? There’s a video I wanted to make of him (saddest thing ever). A lone high priest. The Church of Braxton? No, I’m as selfish as I ever was, still seeking my punishment. The ending punctuation in this chapter of my life, or a pot of gold. Why I’m learning about NFT’s? Not really, please, only killing more time, but something did catch my ears about them. For one moment, I wasn’t listening for Braxton. I continue to live by the alarms I set on my phone.

Anyway, Trevor Noah talked about ownership of originals, classics, whatever. That I don’t have B III in my lap, I’ve gotten into physical books even more so. An author I am reading turned me onto them. He talked about another author and these books he did before he passed that got him into a lot of trouble. I’ve read things from writers currently incarnated but these works… Well, one of them is 50 years old, is that old? The books go for hundreds, so yeah, between Braxton and body art, and bunches of artists, give me more books. What do I have to lose? I lost my god, I’m in Hell, and what time is it again to live without Braxton? B The Clock Challenge

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Gospel 280 ~Ain’t This A B~

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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~

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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~

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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