“Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth,” I believe that was Tyson. One more reason I love B. He didn’t talk much, and he barked at everyone else. Then there are earbuds. But I talk to myself… oh no! Your Punchline Means My Punches.
Monday, April 10, 2023
Saga 283 ~Your Punchline Means My Punches~
Two-Hundred and Eighty-Fourth Rule
NOTE: I wrote about this effing rule twice! So much for my focus and concentration!
I AM a Billionaire right now… Now that’s funny. But I can buy more than $10.00 Walmart earbuds with that money. Work harder?
I rather hurt my ears than my hands today. However, considering what time it is. I did both this morning. Must have. I punched out a clock or went deaf. Who knows. Well, Braxton would or does… I’ve talked about the looks he’d give me; what I wouldn’t give for one of those looks now. And I try to recreate them with Virgil. He’s not Triple B, reincarnated. Oh, I’m reading yet another book on dying fur babies. Find that funny, huh? Not you, of course, Madam. You and all the girls know how I feel about my son. And with everything people have made fun of me about. Even the universe knows that my B III. He’s off-limits. Unheard, unseen… humor; why so serious
Only there’s plenty to make fun of me about. Though if we’re talking about something like last night… I’ll say I’m more sad and pathetic than angry. If Cherry understood. Okay, last night I spent more money, $35.00, to see some titties. Online strippers (sigh). There’s always the fact that I’m begging to see Cherry’s yabbos and M Anime. Haven’t I said before men and women can’t be friends? Friends, but there’s always, um, desire…
Hell! Braxton was my best friend, and I effed him worse than anybody. I killed him.
Anyway, there was this other girl who reminded me somewhat of cuckolding. Maybe that was General Hospital when Elizabeth was sleeping with Lucky’s half-brother. Getting way off the subject… I don’t care for laughter.
So what joke gets me to punch someone in the face? I’m surprised I still have the Day Job for one. Again I killed my son. Euthanasia. I don’t need the cops outside the door like last night. Well, that was more Fire Department and an Ambulance for the neighbors.
Punishment for what happened to Braxton. I still deserve it. But yes, I’m frightened (sigh). In a way, Madam, I’m so busy hurting myself in this way or that. The Cherry Collision or denying myself release from pornographic passions… It’s easy to get angry. Rageful. Madam, this existence is a joke. And when other people remind me of it… Madness. That’s why I like hearing about “My Dick.” No Joke? Your Punchline Means My Punches
799 Days Without B III, Day 240 of Virgil’s Arrival
BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,