Tale 075 ~Virgil Pretends To B~

If I can “see” ghosts, maybe V can too. Anytime I have to go out and pretend to be a good person, it sounds like a haunted house as I close the door. So besides writing, sleeping, or gazing at yabbos, I pretend it will be better. Virgil Pretends To B

Thursday, September 14, 2023

Tale 075 ~Virgil Pretends To B~

956 Days Without B III, Day 397 of Virgil’s Arrival

Just Me, Baby B,
Did you have a good day? More to the point. Are you happy? I read up on The Rainbow Bridge, sometimes.

It’s supposed to be a happy place. And more than anything, B, I want you to be a happy puppy. Hell! You were fifteen when you left, and I still considered you my little puppy. You’d be eighteen now. Even after your “passing,” I still call you for “medicine time.” How’s that for ACCEPTANCE? Your Dad could use some type of medication, I guess, B. Is it the fact that I’m calling out to the dead? Well, only you. But yeah, I have that book on vampires. It could be all the bugs biting as I clean up your yard like you would be proud. It’s all “The Land of Make Believe,” Braxton. But Hell is far too real. Which is why I’m writing today.

Yeah, your Daddy is time-traveling, but only a day. It’s Wednesday, September 13, 2023. And before I get started on why I’m talking to you so late. It’s around 4:30 p.m., and I’m in bed. Of course, sigh. V’s laying here pretending being here’s his “Welcome to the good life.” Like father, like freeloader. I swear, Braxton, one day I’ll stop calling him that. Lying? Daddy was never one for acting but, strangely enough, for ACCEPTANCE. Now, after E-Day, with me being another year older. I swear thirty-nine sucks. Thirty-eight, thirty-seven, thirty-six. Thirty-six was an awful year. Oh! I should have died at “Seventeen,” Braxton. But I keep pretending, don’t I? That bullying lie of It Gets Better. It doesn’t. Nothing stops. Nothing. Well, you…

Only I keep going like I was today. Do I want to talk about the Day Job now or yesterday? What about what I did after? All the time in the world, and besides eating and sleeping, what did I do with it? I was like you when your Aunt Carolina came through —buried in Yabbos. Only for me, it was Cherry’s. As if I could recreate that beauty like something out of “The Truman Show.” And speaking of big racks, there was also Momokun. After a couple of downloads, um… Your Dad is not a good man. And I don’t do well at acting. Well, “When we pretend that we’re dead,” you have me beat. Teach Virgil to be happy. Virgil Pretends To B.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad