Tag: B III

Saga 039 ~Where We’ll B Escaping~

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Didn’t I speak last week about Treachery? I haven’t betrayed a woman, my crappy Day Job, or my country. What, I’m not a “Trumptard.” Anyway, today required making several moves, and not one of them is leading back to bed. Where We’ll Be Escaping

Tuesday, August 9, 2022

Saga 039 ~Where We’ll B Escaping~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I should be pretty good at escaping. An armory, bunker, tickets to non-extradition nations…

This week I’ve been reading, well… 21% of this book, “Until we Meet Again.” Of course, there’s a chapter talking about “escaping” grief. More so, the impossibility of doing such. Now to be clear, I don’t want to. Ok, It’s been 555 days since B III. Not long enough, love. Only I envy him. You can take that however you want. And It could be the fact that the A/C is all screwy. You know I prefer the heat to the cold any day. What I’ll have to do to fix it… Anyway, I woke up this morning, and as with most things, they tie back to my son. Braxton would be hiding under the bed because it would be cooler. In bed all day…

Well, as I said, B under it. But I’d like to stay in bed. I’m reminded of the Day Job, my “Dad,” and whatever the Devil has in store for me. But to escape with B, my son my dog. Nope! These days it’s always about my dick. And you’re asking me, well, what’s wrong with that? My desire, my delight, my darling? As the song goes, “but we’re not making love no more. We’re not even trying to change.” I know. It’s only me who’s changing. Or I did. I can’t anymore. There’s nowhere to go. There’s nowhere to be without my B. Hell! I have you, I want to croon out: “there’s nowhere on earth that I’d rather be than holding you tenderly.”

Music and me, such is my escape. And to keep it going … “If I lay here if I just lay here. Would you lie with me and just forget the world?” Because where is there to go, I’ll ask? I could get up and be the dad I want to be with our children. Work on making more. My business today is nothing like the Day Job. What gentlemen wouldn’t enjoy this life? Didn’t I finish writing a book? Only it’s no different than the one I’m reading. All about dead fur babies again. I don’t mean to be harsh, but that’s the thing. I might as well appreciate the heat. Because Treachery is one cold as ice sin. But, Where We’ll Be Escaping.

555 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 038 ~Lesser Gods Mean Richer “Prophets” ~

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I had a Christian phase. Gone are the days I “believed” in men. And yet I bend the knee to my Dad, my dirtiness, and most of all, the Day Job. It was worth it to kneel and pat my son’s head. The little god he was. Lesser Gods Mean Richer “Prophets.”

Monday, August 8, 2022

Saga 038 ~Lesser Gods Mean Richer “Prophets” ~

Two-Hundred and Fifty-Second Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now. And I should continue to do whatever made me those billions, right? My boy B, Boobs, Books?

Not that I ever thought to make a profit off of B. So why have I written two novels about Braxton? Two unpublished stories, I’d say. I haven’t opened the second one since I “finished” it. I hate the idea that a picture is worth “1000 Words.” Need more pictures? Only that would have cost me time, now wouldn’t it, Madam? Fifteen years wasn’t enough? Oh, there’s the expense of it all. I keep going back to the value of cash more than my son. And then I talk this big game of how I would have died for him. But how much of my life did I give to him? My personal brand of heroin, my own “Personal Jesus.” I was “Losing My Religion.”

And I don’t blame the Yabbos for once. Hell! How much money have I saved in the past two weeks? What if we only count today? The investment I made so many years ago. No, not the publishing contract; we’ll get to that. But “The Big One,” to quote GTA V. My permanent slice of TLC “Tits, Lips, and Clits.” To a company that would play god to a certain extent. I haven’t put down my cash this week. Madam, I am weak, being honest. Because I’m no saint, no prophet. I am a sinner looking to make a profit. Isn’t that what today is all about? When you make the object of your devotion lesser than yourself, you can go, “Dollar dollar bill, y’all.”

So is that why I “worship” my Day Job like something out of ancient Egypt… king of kings, god of gods? I swear I have given everything to make some prophet rich. I know it. I sacrificed my firstborn son on the altar of that fucking job. Ignorance, insanity, inevitable. I’m spending what pittance I make not on my puppy but my playthings, pleasures, penis. What about my actual work? Rule #3 “Now The Work Can Begin,” but it never does. As the godhead that I would make myself out to be, does what, Madam? Sits naked in all his glory in bed, cursing the prophets that say this is the American Dream. Believing less in Braxton, Books, “Bitches, man.” Lesser Gods Mean Richer “Prophets”

554 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 035 ~Son Of A B-Word~

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I’ve had a few dogs, but B III was my heart dog, a soulmate, my kid. The only S.O.B. I ever loved. Because I don’t love myself. Plus, my mom is a good woman. Speaking of which, what have I been thinking of lately? “Skip Ad?” Son Of A B-Word

Friday, August 5, 2022

Saga 035 ~Son Of A B-Word~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but how can that be when I keep waking up this late? Oh, this week sucked.

So, before I put my mind back into the gutter. Let’s talk about the little S.O.B. who is my son. Don’t get me wrong, Lady Sophia, that’s a fact. He is a son of a bitch; I miss every day. The fact that I had to exist in such a week as the one that took him from me. A standard 40-hour work week? Ha! If that were the case, I’d have one more reason to… careful there, right? Dangerous words. But for the record, I haven’t tried to harm myself well since January 11, 2022. And that was an accident. What do you get when you have Tifa Lockhart’s mature dress? And a hard-on for Zoe Colletti. Confessions with Inspector Echo but Lady Sophia. The Day Job schedule makes me want to cry. Then I remember B III crying that Wednesday, and I was so driven to hate then.

That’s why I still read the words; no, I write the words; Braxton Is Dead. They didn’t write that on the bill, of course. THEY have their words, and I have mine fair enough. Reading? There are so many things I don’t want to read. Thanks to YouTube, I’ve quit reading the words “Skip Ad.” That’s because I don’t want to watch anymore. What pray tell are my fingers going to do now? Well, besides becoming fists at the Day Job. I continue to white-knuckle the mattress. And I’m not one for praying anymore. Last time… a week like this.

Son of a bitch was dying, and it was all my fault because I wouldn’t listen. Now I’m done with a second book where I tried to listen. And what am I going to do with it, I ask you? Son of a bitch can’t do anything right. I shouldn’t mention my Ma like that, but I told one of the girls what I think about while I’m wasting my life. “Yo Mama?” More like “Yo Son,” if anyone dared to disrespect B III. “Either thou or I, or both, must go with him.” This son of a bitch wishes I could say Shakespeare was on the brain. But between Maiko Kaneda, Tifa Lockhart, and Cherry… I’m just thinking about blowjobs. Son Of A B-Word

551 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 034 ~B Willing To Bark~

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B’s has gone silent again. I don’t blame him. Novel writing is hard work, and I should have been more vocal. Hell! I should be louder at the Day Job and go all Michael Jackson. “Leave me alone. Stop it. Just stop doggin’ me around.” B Willing To Bark

Thursday, August 4, 2022

Saga 034 ~B Willing To Bark~

550 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? If I could hear your answer. I wish my day was over and done with.

At the moment, it’s like old times. You know I don’t get up like this. Unless the day is going to go bad. It was a day like this when I held you in my arms and tried to rock you to sleep. A bad choice of words… but you know what I mean. This was an effed-up week. Do you miss me grumbling, griping, and growling like this? I could save it for the afternoons. As I said, I wish I was already there. If anything, I wish I was more like you. At the Day Job the other day, I was thinking. At least when my kid barked, he was helping me out. I would take your voice over everything every day, Braxton.

There’s this quote I always use in regards to you. “All I know is the child is my warrant, and if he isn’t the word of God, then God never spoke.” It remains true, Braxton. If God is love, then I could think of no better way to say it than Braxton. I’m still listening, trying. But with all the noise in the world, Baby B, I swear. When it wasn’t the silence of your death. It’s my shame I have when I walk into the Day Job. At least I’m not saying “Another Day.” It was that indifference towards my existence that ended you. Braxton, all the rage I endure that’s been bubbling up. I can’t tell you why that is. I’m your Dad.

Yes, we’re men. But there are many different, difficult, and dangerous little things to bark. Now, one of those is that I want to go back to bed. As if I’ve left it this morning for anything more than to have this conversation. The worthless discussions, Day Job. Now, as I said, my anger. I can’t tell you why but people Braxton have been driving me up the wall. Aren’t I one of them? Like that Wednesday, I came back and passed out. Blackout? I’m going to bring up that book yet again. It’s one I would share with you to a certain extent. You might sigh, scratch, or only sit there. But you were willing to live B, I know. B Willing To Bark

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Saga 033 ~The B In Blackout~

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I shouldn’t have said that idiot, insane. Um, then stop thinking about me. My kid? But he’s gone because of me. That crime beats all others. The women I’ve offended. The things I’ve done to myself. Three words black it all out, yep. The B In Blackout

Wednesday, August 3, 2022

Saga 033 ~The B In Blackout~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. And with that much money, while I’m doing nothing. I assume I could stay awake, Inspector.

But no, I’m at the Day Job. When I have to take out my “Air Pods,” my mind begins to flitter on everything. Then like that, I’m in a dark place. Let’s say it’s a version of the sunken place. I’m watching existence but in the past. Yet I believe I can see the future. Before I give way to despair, though, three little words wake me up. Braxton Is Dead. It always comes back to that Inspector. My Son Is Dead. No matter what “Humiliations Galore,” whatever will be endured. I say those three words, and everything becomes bearable. Yesterday it became more evident as I suffered. If you want my theory… it’s that time of the month, the year. My original sin returns.

You know Inspector because I don’t. It was only around 2017 when I started talking to Lady Lu again. It was about the Basic Bitch. And let us not forget Sweetness or The Harmonic War. Oh, too late! I hate reading my past work, Inspector; ok, Braxton Is Dead. His death was the worst day of my existence. It even surpasses horrific Emergence Day. Emergence Day… Fuck! That is coming up soon, ha! Echo, fuck me! Endure And Survive. And then, yet again, I have a note on August 6, 2017, saying such and such is not your friend. I want to hide from all these memories. Inspector, I try. I would have been better off dying on the floor. But no, my dear Braxton…

My son wouldn’t let me die when I blacked out on the floor, Inspector. He saved me, my little boy. The only other times I blacked out was when I drank some. I’m a lightweight. There’s also Blackout: A Thriller by Erin Flanagan. I swear that book’s living rent-free in my head. Inspector, you know I’ve been free of fapping going on 13 days… Surviving this AM? XXX blocks out everything and the blackness that comes from such a feeling. By God! Echo, why didn’t I for 161 days? Why do I resist now? It’s day 549 of my son being gone. Braxton Is Dead, and I deserve to feel every bit of Hell this day will be. Start in gratitude. I don’t think I will. The B In Blackout.

549 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 032 ~Going To B Lit~

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Treachery is the coldest sin. When Hell freezes over? But these days, I’m getting all hot and bothered. Burning my new novel or rather some data. I’m all sort of pissed at this week. Women are hot as Hell, like my wife someday… “Going To B Lit.”

Tuesday, August 2, 2022

Saga 032 ~Going To B Lit~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and that’s because life is no picnic. It’s not some big party. Nor some Pentecostal event.

“THEY,” say you can’t count on anyone to make you happy. It comes from within on whatever. It’s because of Braxton that I wanted to try. I’m going to keep saying it. I wouldn’t know what it was like to have that desire if it wasn’t for him. Love, Happiness? He showed me all this time that it was coming from the “wrong” place. Hell! Lola Bunny was the best of both worlds, but we’ll get to that. My boy, my Braxton, carrying the fire. He was my light, the reason, my ride or die, and my raison d’etre. There’s this movie “Captive State,” and one of the taglines is “Light a fuse… spark a war.” Live, laugh, love? I’ll agree with love Baby Doll.

When I compare you to my firstborn son… that’s no insult. Like the song goes, “I come from the dark side, so I’m having a hard time stayin’ on track.” “Like B, you’re my light. Yes, I know I should get off my phone. Or at least I should be “Takin’ Care Of Business” somehow. Instead, I sound like the Backstreet Boys. “You are my fire. The one desire” and such. Allow me to sound shallow for a minute. A lot more ore hopefully… If I’m not thinking about the warm cuddles of my puppy, then it’s your hot body. The things that get me out of bed in the morning. The warm smiles of our children. But 548 days, I’m not doing so hot.

As a matter of fact, it’s as if I want to burn it all down. My existence, that is. Inevitable? You ask? Is that why I’m driving you away in my grief and mourning? Not enough tears in the world to drown out what I’ve done. If to save a life is to save the world, what does it mean to take a life? I’m sure Triple B won’t like hearing that “truth.” Crimes are fireproof. The way I’m burning up with XXX tendencies because I don’t deserve to feel pleasure. Even after writing the novel. Oh! I’ll let it burn data and not do a damn thing with it. My rage? “I wanna be livin’ For the love of you.” Going To B Lit

548 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 031 ~Value Having A Real Choice~

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If I had a choice, my son would be alive. I could go back to sleep. After having some P.Y.T., How is it the Christians say? This is the day the Lord has made; We will rejoice and be glad in it. No, No, I Don’t Think I Will. Value Having A Real Choice

Monday, August 1, 2022

Saga 031 ~Value Having A Real Choice~

Two-Hundred and Fifty-First Rule

Madam Justice
I AM a Billionaire right now, so I’m up at 3:00 AM, or is it 4:00? American Dream at 7:00. Where is Braxton?

I didn’t choose to love him. And yet I CHOSE to love him. Does that make any sense? It’s like the very first episode of Pokémon; “Pokémon, I Choose You!” How about Power Rangers Ninja Storm? They weren’t the chosen ones. But they were all that was left, so yep. Or, as a “great” man said in Destiny 2. “You’re a bunch of dirty misfits, but you’re all that’s left, so you’ll have to do.” And didn’t I say that I wanted to be more of a grownup, a man? All that matters is I love my boy. And I don’t have any choice in the matter. As the song goes, “I Just Can’t Stop Loving You.” So, where does choice originate? Awake and Alive…

Fuck I am? Pardon my language, but I have chosen to be mad. I can say that for now, ha. Madam, I could say I’m choosing violence, but that might not go over well, considering. Anyway, so why am I angry? As always, my son is dead. And that’s too much for a Dad, Madam. I’m upset because of what I have to do now. A reason I want to write. I’m not so mad. And finally, it’s what I have been talking about daily. “Do I have a drink, or do I not have a drink?” I swear those words continue to haunt me, and you know I ain’t talking a thing about drinking. Do I masturbate, or do I not masturbate? More acceptable?

The ideas of violence over anything sexual. But more to the point is that I have a “choice” over something in this existence. Today will be day 11 if I can last, Madam. The thirst? Again what about B III? 547 days since he’s been gone, and where are my choices when it comes to him? I can’t choose what I want to buy to “honor” him. As much as I wish it were otherwise, I won’t be the man he thinks I am. Yeah, I already began failing Six Impossible Things yesterday. Hell! Everything up to this moment is no choice of mine. My puppy, people, “pen and paper.” But my wayward penis fuck! Someday, somehow, someway, may I Value Having A Real Choice.

547 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 028 ~B Leaving In Failure~

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My kid believes in me. If I was a good dad, I wouldn’t wait until the last day. But I can say I’ll have a 50,000-word book on the 31st. If I’m not busy with things. My knuckles are white and not just from pounding the keys. B Leaving In Failure.

Friday, July 29, 2022

Saga 028 ~B Leaving In Failure~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go punch out God. Am I Writing fiction or failure?

I’m still writing about Triple B and me, thank you very much. I should be done by Sunday, Lady Sophia. The thing is, I wanted to be done by today. So I suppose this counts as crying over B III this morning. The idea that I’ll be reading I’m a Camp NaNoWriMo winner on the very last day. But let’s focus on B III. Like the three chapters, I should do. Don’t forget there is also the eulogy. And yes, my lady, I just googled, “what is the difference between a eulogy and an obituary?” And I need poems for two chapters each but 50,000 words… If I didn’t know any better, I would say that sounds like an excuse. I’m talking to my son…

Ha! I can’t even talk to my friends. When I’m done with my Masochism. I’m giddy in my Sadism. Yes, everything short of my son’s passing devolves into sexual addiction. And even B liked Yabbos. I always told him the first pair he loved was the girl I’d have to marry. The first outside the family… his Aunt Carolina. Haven’t talked to her lately. Then there’s Cherry and M Anime, who he never met, and I’m thankful. Daddy’s a perv. Cherry has been suffering so much, yet you know what I’m hoping for whenever she texts. Two things. Don’t I have any empathy? Sophia, you’ve seen what I’ve started reading. When it’s not something on pet loss, it’s M Anime talking about such horrible men.

Why do you think I would read Erotica? I haven’t read anything like that since Christmas, Lady Sophia. It’s tradition. Anyway, you know how such stories fucking get me going. Pardon my language. Only I can’t tell my “other” friends. I’m much too busy to write such stories… yeah, right. Because what am I going to do today? I won’t be finishing Braxton and my novel today. I continue to white-knuckle my baser urges like that book Blackout by Erin Flanagan. “Do I have a drink, or do I not have a drink?” Fucking hard! Yep, I don’t want to tell the “man in the mirror” I’m walking around with my dick in my hands. Or that I failed with writing. B Leaving In Failure.

544 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 027 ~Tears B Coming Standard~

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Depression can be an addiction, and I always have something to cry about… I don’t have anyone to cry to. I instead cry or sleep than do anything. Tell that to my knuckles, but at least I ain’t breaking them against walls. “Tears B Coming Standard.”

Thursday, July 28, 2022

Saga 027 ~Tears B Coming Standard~

543 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I should wipe my tears away before walking in. Why? You’ve seen me cry plenty.

I’ve cried at least twice before talking to you today. I can’t even say you were reason number one, Baby B. But you should be. We’ll get to that. I am crying now, though. And I cried last night when I called you down for your medicine. Ironic, right, Braxton? Well, if you’re up THERE, of course. Or down THERE since I’m going to Hell. And you like being warm and guarding gates. Hell! For all I know, you’re in some cage somewhere B. Or have you even been reincarnated yet? I might cry a little more thinking such things. It makes my head hurt but not like when you would step on it, remember? The sun’s been up a while before me. That’s unacceptable.

As unacceptable as the reason I was up earlier and was crying tears. You and I are boys always and forever. Boyz II Men? “‘Cause we men, ain’t we?” Yeah. B yesterday I wrote some about the movie nights we had with your Aunt Carolina. They were good times, ha. But back to the original point, unacceptable. We’d talk about your Aunt’s Yabbos, B III. Only there are things I kept from you. My addiction, for starters. So this morning, as I heard the familiar beep from the phone, well… Anyway, it was a struggle. I was triggered thinking about, um yeah, Yabbos, and I had to white knuckle it. One hand on the mattress. The other was on the phone. Glad you weren’t here.

That makes me cry all the more. I’m always sad you aren’t here in the flesh. Why would I even bother picking up the phone hoping to see… something when I had my handsome “wee little puppy man.” But now, nothing is stopping me except for sleep. It’s 8:30 AM. As jayson_jvc might say, “get out your flesh!” I told you something like that, Braxton. Harsh, because I made that happen on January 31, 2021. Freed you from the mortal coil. There are other reasons for me to cry. Braxton, we could finish writing the novel. Going to the Day Job is another. Laughing to keep from crying about the stuff on the phone when getting it fixed. Shame over Cherry and M Anime. Your Aunt? Tears B Coming Standard

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Saga 026 ~ Bee’s Knees Of Addiction~

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It’s not every day I write something that makes me question? Should I put it out there? Republican ideas without the actual money. No, I’m only a black man who lost his homie, my son. Addicted to, a sucker for pain. The Bee’s Knees Of Addiction.

Wednesday, July 27, 2022

Saga 026 ~ Bee’s Knees Of Addiction~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means something must be bugging me. Chances are I am bugged. Or are people bugs?

I’ve been thought of as much worse. But if you ask me what I’d like to be considered as Inspector? Yes, even more than a billionaire. It would always have to be B III’s Dad. I was telling his Aunt Carolina the other day; I have thought of my wedding day. Hell! I have names picked out for the future kids. Katniss, Tris, Ember, my girls on fire. Luke and Leia. I will have to give one Braxton’s name, no doubt. My strongest addiction. Braxton’s death. Can we make this official? I’m addicted to the day, the depression, the destruction. I’m addicted to the misery. The song says, “This love is killing me, but you’re the only one.” That’s my Braxton. Loving my crying.

And speaking of music, “we don’t love them hoes.” But fuck me, I miss ’em plenty. Pardon my language, Inspector. I can’t get this quote out of my mind. “Do I have a drink, or do I not have a drink?” Only my drug of choice is, jerking off. Or paying to see a pair of tits. It’s only been five days, and I’m trying Inspector; I’m trying real HARD. So far, I’ve stayed off porn sites; what do you count OnlyFans as? I saw something on Facebook this morning, leading me to look it up on Twitter. Let’s just say, “Prepare For Trouble,” Inspector. The worse of it has been these two English girls. I swear I’ll break. But I can’t. Only So Hott

No, I save the breaking for the phone or, more like, the repairs. If only I could be fixed like that. Like someone out of The Screwfly Solution… No, I don’t mean the killers, Inspector. More like the character of Barney. And sure, there are support groups for every addiction. My Ma showed me one for mourning “pets.” I’m sure the information is somewhere Echo. I could delete every bit of porn I have. Leave OnlyFans. Delete Social Media. Everything! Echo, I’d cut off the phone. Ok, I was without it for six hours and suffered from withdrawal. And the Day Job? It brings no joy, yet it is a drug. “Why do the things I hate come so naturally?” The Bee’s Knees Of Addiction.

542 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will