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,