Chronicle 296 ~Have A Cow B~

Don’t have a cow, man! Well, my second best friend is about to have a lot of chickens. B would have loved to visit a farm… Poor choice of words, he got sent to “the farm.” And while I’m mad about that and other things. “Have A Cow B, if you like.” Ha

Saturday, April 23, 2022

Chronicle 296 ~Have A Cow B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so how can I be mad, having such maladies. And, of course, still want to masturbate.

What can I say today? I believe the word would be “Moo!” That’s considering the major beef I have today. Also, knowing that everything I say will inevitably be incoherent. Would I make myself out to be Marjorie Taylor Greene? The things that make us angry; yesterday, Lady Lunalesca, it was the Day Job schedule. More to the point, cowardice. Hell, I didn’t have to be angry. If I had done what I needed to do Wednesday or even called Thursday. Oh yeah! That would mean I have two ears, and I’m still pissed, Lunalesca. We’ll get to that, along with the things I can’t say anymore. Yesterday all I wanted to say was, “I’ll think about it,” “I’ll have to see” doesn’t mean yes.

Triple B never said a damn word, but I knew what he meant. What Lunalesca, you didn’t think I would forget about him… again. If this was Squid Game, my number would be “428.” I still can’t forget that, but it’s day 447 today. How many more in my Hell? When Braxton got mad, he would grunt and grumble a bit like a piggie. Growling? Lunalesca, that would be him too. I would have brought food. And he would have sat in the den waiting for me to change. B III was always waiting for lies, little bites, like, love. It was usually me that was having a cow, though. A burger, the bad stuff at work. I had a lot of beef Lady Lunalesca.

And as much as Triple B should hate me now… That’s the only thing I might have taken from all those books. Doesn’t Braxton hate me? He had enough love for both of us. Humans are the ones who carry hate, wrath, and so much beef. Fuck, shrimp, chicken. Luna, I think so little of myself that I couldn’t speak up, and I tried Friday; Lu, yep, I did. I couldn’t hear myself. I carry such hate for myself that I won’t go and see a doctor. Money for one. But best believe I’m going to buy two bottles of cranberry juice and more pills. Hate will maul me as I rage internally at the Rebeccas. I can’t be Braxton’s Dad. Have A Cow B.

447 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,

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