To think that the moment of Braxton’s passing, “home” was the last place that I wanted to be. THEY say that home is where the heart is but with him being gone… It’s at least where I can say “whatever,” in peace. Will Of The B-Cells, no cure or escape
Hey Lady Sophia, I AM a Billionaire right now, only I wish I could have bought Braxton that big house I promised. A yard, family…
I don’t know if you would consider Braxton lucky or like some military kid. Why does love always feel like a battlefield, as the song goes? Whether it be the two “homes” we had with my Olds and then this place, they did pay for; truth. My family’s home Sophia… Whatever do I call it now? Fuck you, ASM. My apologies Lady Sophia but whenever I say “whatever,” I’m set off by the ASM, and I won’t have him tell me how to speak again ever. Not that I’m doing much talking because I can’t even pretend that Braxton is listening anymore. Dammit, I should be ashamed of what I’ve let happen to B III’s home. I had an ant invasion; the backyard is wild. There is such filth everywhere.
Should I burst out with my best rendition of Michael Jackson’s Earth Song? Again I am sorry, Lady Sophia. I want to tell “Happy” stories of Braxton and me, but my hate has tainted everything. I would hold Braxton at night, and he was keeping my heart inside me, yeah. Now my heart died in a cage, and this broken man is all that remains. He didn’t look at this place as a Hell, a prison, or a trap. In these walls, he was safe with his Daddy despite everything. What is this? The third time I’m crying today because of those little eyes, hmm. The look that says, “Daddy can we go home?” It’s what he wanted, I keep telling myself, now smaller boxes.
There’s my urn pendant, the box that remains on my nightstand. The frame that shows our lives together. Please let Braxton be running along the Rainbow Bridge. My Braxton could be guarding the gates of Heaven or Hell. How about Braxton finding the eternal comfy spot. All it took was something inside him, killing him for five days, causing his chronic renal failure. I know it takes longer than that, but then there was the hatred that surrounded me. Love B shed and shared like so many hairs, Braxton saying, I will try to fix you. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t visit me. He can’t stand to see his Daddy like this, and I don’t blame him. This was his home, Will Of The B-Cells.
Braxton was never one to go chasing his TAIL as he was always so busy following me. Like The Road, “Sometimes I TELL the boy old stories of courage and justice,” it was never many of those. “Catching Our Tales Braxton…” maybe the world will know
Just Me Baby B, Did you have a good day? Like last week when we spoke around this time, there was no story to tell.
If I do get fired, did, Hell Braxton, do you have any superpowers, supernatural? Have you become all-seeing, which explains why your Daddy is still a monk and a lazy ass? I have been talking to “everyone” today. I don’t know what the next day will bring for me ever. Now it won’t be the story of your resurrection, will it? As Tupac put it, “bury me in pieces cause they fear reincarnation.” My Old Man of all people said that your spirit could be calling out from another furbaby somewhere. I guess A Dog’s Purpose was plenty for me. You’ve seen what I’ve been reading nowadays. I would ask if you ever listened to me before to please avert your eyes and ears B.
You hated my phone as it took my attention away from you. Daddy always had a song for you, so let me sing. “Son, what you don’t understand, my words might never explain. So I am hoping that time will.” When I took a shower, though… Daddy’s stuff and thangs. However, when I wasn’t looking those things up, I’ve been researching what took you away. Oh, I still blame myself, no doubt, and I don’t blame you for wanting to get to the bottom of it. I read in Succubus Lord how the Shades relive their deaths over and over. Not saying you went to Hell, of course, unless Cerberus needed friendship or you’re saving me a spot by the fire. The two of us…
Didn’t I tell you I killed off your character writing for Camp NaNoWriMo? I swear if I write another book for the next one, it will be about us, I promise. Maybe I will include these letters with some poetry, and I’ve gotten into photography books. What do you think? Braxton, I haven’t been telling the happy stories about us these days because I explained to someone. Without your love, the void has been filled with hate, I’m afraid. Rage, I have no problem letting out, but if I had shown more love to you and less wrath to others, I wish? What I wouldn’t give to have you lying on my ass again as I come up with these gems of wisdom Little B.
I’m trying, and one day, hopefully Catching Our Tales Braxton.
Dearly Beloved… it won’t be many of those when I get married. For the longest time, I thought that Braxton would be there, my Best Man. I guess I’m going to need a new vetting process because I’ve been turning my back on EVERYONE. To The B Loved
Dear Future Wife, I AM a Billionaire right now, and someone said love or rather passion is like money. There’s a time to save it up, a time to spend.
So where is my love? An excellent way to describe it is this, and yes, it’s an explanation that I borrowed and/or stole, yep. My love is like having $19.00 in the bank. You know it’s there, it’s yours, but you can’t go to any ATM and punch in $19.00. And walking into a bank… Please stop me, Baby Girl, before I burst into Saving All My Love For You or I Will Always Love You. You never need to doubt my love, but now it’s just so damn hard to reach right this minute. First, it was my sadness about Braxton, and these days it’s this rage against so many idiots. I wish I could turn my back on the lot of them as I turned on our family?
Never ever, Baby Doll, it’s just, well, take today for an example. You know I’m a Star Wars fan, but I’m not one of these fans starting a fight about it. I can’t watch every movie today because of Stupid people. Only Star Wars is my heart (what’s left of it). God, I miss B. Today of all days, I don’t mean to hurt my friend Indiana Gone. Happy Birthday!!! The thing is this, much as I like her, if you pitted her against my little boy, she wouldn’t stand a chance. Braxton is my firstborn. Braxton’s my longest relationship ever, father to son. There is nothing that can ever make me turn my back on him. Nothing will make me betray us, my love.
It’s just, and I’ll never understand why. But in the words of Stephen King: “God is cruel. Sometimes he makes you live.” The hatred of people, my hate of those people, took my Braxton from me. My love, you show me that all people need not be hated and feared. Braxton and I met in my twenties. And he showed me that no matter what assholes like the ASM, the gemstone bitch, or the spectator do. There is love within me— that love I give to you that made our children. I have to find it without Braxton. Good Luck.
Well, I have you, always and forever, right? I ask you not to question me, and yet I doubt you. Trying To The B Loved
The day after my son died, I traded a day of mourning for a morning at the Day Job. I gave up music to hear curses I’d level at a meathead jock asshole of an ASM. SIGH, I break “Rule 186” every day at the Day Job. Trade But Don’t Betray Yourself
Madame Justice, I AM a Billionaire right now, but would it be worth being a sell-out for this or that.
Not for Braxton’s life. I keep telling myself, I’m not moving into BARGAINING as of yet. People are too STUPID!!! My ANGER still rules but isn’t that one more way I have broken this rule. Take, for example, my Empathy for Apathy. No, worse, all I had left was ANGER. It’s the reason I hate the ASM and the Day Job so much. THEY remind me of killing my son by giving me the same weapon I did it with. I raged at them and, in turn, killed my boy, trying not to feel anything. When my tears threatened to wash away the blood… dammit. A meathead jock of an ASM had to fuck it all up for me. Now yes, Madam, I deserve Hell.
So with that being the case, I trade Hell for what, PRIDE? I won’t be leaving with that, I know. Um, listen to me, like I’ve been fired now. Yes, I’m back in the time machine because it’s Saturday, May 1. Last week was Hell, and this one isn’t shaping up at all. Friday, I felt a bit like Andy Dufresne in Shawshank, giving a bit of myself for my friend’s happiness. That’s a good way of putting it, Madam Justice. Andy Dufresne helped the other prisoners because he wanted to feel normal again. Indiana’s time has been shattering. If I were a God-fearing man, I would say I’m giving up silver and gold to pick up my cross. The smallest coffins are the heaviest.
How dare I right? Not only for saying that, but B III had a nice long life, but ask anyone with a furbaby. They will always be our children, and I let a fucking job try and destroy me. Braxton’s death has done that sure enough. Now all I have is that fucking Day Job. The Manager told me about my loyalty, and I would be willing to trade a decade of it for twenty days of hatred. It’s been seventy-two days since I met that bastard and ninety-two days now, so yes, twenty. Hell, I don’t even remember the man I was a ten-years prior. Only I’d trade the man I am now to be who I should have been for Braxton. Be Better… Trade But Don’t Betray Yourself.
A dream. a little sex, violence, and not dabbling either. I miss my dog, my friend, my son. It was a crime what happened to him. “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” “Animal Crossing Nope, Just Braxton”
“She’s the girl that guys marry, and I’m the girl that guys fuck!” Kill Theory
What a weird way to start off a dream about my dog, right? He didn’t appear until the last half, if I’m being honest. It took me forever to figure out what this quote had to do about anything other than the movie “Kill Theory.” If you want me to remember anything, it usually has to involve sex or violence. My son Braxton broke the mold with that. Then again, he had a thing for my second best friend’s breasts, and I will never forget that I killed him. Call it being put to sleep, Euthanasia; whatever I ended him.
Most nights, I don’t dream at all, I don’t remember, or they aren’t worth telling ever. I can say to you within The Five Stages of Grief, I live in DENIAL. As always, I fill his water bowl, call out to him for his medication, eat when we both usually would together. On Day Seventy-Two, I moved into ANGER because of the fucking Assistant Manager. I’ve been revved up ever since, and my Day Job has become a battlefield. Before work, I would have said that on Day Eighty-Six, I have moved into BARGAINING. Too many STUPID people are breeding.
So that leads me back to this quote from my dream, and as I said, it’s from the movie Kill Theory, so a short plot:
A man kills his best friends to save his own life. To prove that anyone in the same circumstances (somewhat). That you will kill to save yourself, he picks a group of college kids. They have until Six AM to kill each other. The sole survivor goes free, but he will kill them all if more than one remains alive.
If you’ve been keeping up, I will die for Braxton. Tell me to give my life to save him, and I would do so without question. He deserves to live. We were together for fifteen years, one month shy of sixteen. He was my longest relationship, me and my son, and I mean a life I was responsible for. But I chose everything over him. That’s what killed him. The week before he died, it was my Day Job which explains so much Anger. Also, I hate three people there but the dream. I kept hearing the girl Ryanne Duzich “Amber” say this. SPOILER ALERT she does survive. Her friends died, her love, her enemies…
Ryanne Duzich “Amber”
So next thing I know, I’m in a car alone with her. At least, I think it was her because what I noticed was the moon outside as she drove. It was a pale pink moon that slowly became blood-red, and so was my dread. Ever since Braxton died, I have found that not much scares me anymore. I have a moment of panic every now and again, but like with every pain, I only say, “I killed Braxton.” I deserve whatever I get. Let the cops come, let me catch COVID, or crack some skulls. I can take it.
Anyway, before I freak out, the moon turns into C-3PO’s golden head. And then it’s my Braxton’s face, and of course, I calm down. I watch the moon as Amber drives on, and it doesn’t matter where. It’s the journey, and with Braxton up above me, everything is okay. Soon the sky begins turning blue, signaling a new day. Amber and I are now in this wooded area with rocks and little mini waterfalls. The trees surround the clearing, but then I see a big building to the side. I then discover it’s a replica of Braxton’s resting place. It’s a bit dingy and worn, but his name is right on the top of it.
I’m dressed in a blue robe like something out of The Purge series. Or I’ve been reading too much Succubus Lord (The Cult of Ralston), yeah. Amber is beckoning me closer, but I snatch away from her. She starts saying, “get in the box, get in, join him!” she cries. Now I’m scared, and I refuse. Then she starts saying “Look at me” and starts untying her top. While her voice, I think, reminds me of “Secret Girlfriend,” You Get an Aquarium Girl (Veronica Taylor). Still, I’m terrified, and I begin to back away as she starts to step forward.
Veronica Taylor
Before I can get away, out steps Jessica Garza “Penelope” from The Purge series. “Look at my lambs,” she asks, and then there are these three people in animal masks or maybe the animals themselves. All I remember is a black wolf waiting. So either I enter the building, or I face the animal beings. I start running, but then I’m so tired, and I want to give up, give in. Hell, get off with the two/three beautiful women, but the animals catch me then…
I didn’t wake up screaming, and I’m not sure what the animals even did to me. The wolf was charging, and my ankles were tied in dark blue cloth. Okay, so the four major components of the dream. There’s “Kill Theory,” the moon, the building, and the animals in all:
Kill Theory: The movie’s both betrayal and sacrifice. The killer got away with it, and Amber lived. She had been betrayed by everyone. She ended the film holding the man she loved who had been killed by his girlfriend. The killer said Amber would become like him, but she said she would never. I’m the same way. I’m surrounded by pretenders and people I hate. The one I loved the most died. And I’m half crazy. I live in lust, not love, not feeling anything.
The Moon: I don’t understand what the pink was about other than I love turning to hate. Or something to do with sex. I’ve been staying up working on an erotic novel and didn’t read about a pink moon until later today. C-3PO makes me think of when he wanted to donate parts to R2-D2 after destroying the Death Star. Braxton, of course, watching over me from the sky. I still say goodnight to him before falling asleep. He is my light in the darkness.
The Building: With today being the exception, I would usually be in bed lying in the dark. I told my second best friend I exist in the darkness because everything else makes me upset. In the dark, there is nothing, and suppose I wish I was dead. Only in the dream I fought going into the box. I wanted to stay out in nature. Another friend has been angling for me to try Bushcraft with her. Survivalist training and, like always, JSS Just Survive Somehow.
The Animals: I swear they looked like people at first. And the fact that a former sacrifice in Penelope presented them… Why can I only remember the wolf, though, and a lamb, hmm? But they were all chasing me, further evidence of my betrayal and guilt. I have looked at other dogs lately, and both my friends want farm animals. Did the animals want to eat me, or was I lying on some otherwise peaceful ground? Only I was tied up tight by a cloth-like the one in Braxton’s remains.
To say B III IS a good dog is the underestimate of the Millennium. Braxton Is the greatest son ever, and I can never be free of such love. Only what can a man do before such hate? I don’t want to hate but the Day Job SIGH. B III, B IV
To Will: I AM a Billionaire right now, and you might be too someday if you do like I did last night… just say no?
Being free of certain HABITS. You’re still HURT over Braxton, and that won’t be going away anytime soon. I think I brought it up some time yesterday that it’s been officially three months without him. You haven’t said no to the DENIAL or the ANGER… HATE. Being free of such love, but as Sade sings, this is No Ordinary Love. As Edmond Dantès learned, he could not escape such love. THEY say if only we could love as Braxton loves you. People though… I swear, we have mastered hate. If any consolation, you hate THEM. Being free of hating the ASM, the gemstone bitch, the spectacled spectator. Well, that’s not happening. You might get fired soon. But you didn’t harm yourself or Six Impossible Things:
I AM Finishing Reading, Melody In Lingerie by Imogen Linn Completed
I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums Partial
I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH Failed
I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 121 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception Completed (Day 128) No Fap
I WILL Cut The Lawn This Week Partial
I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am Failed
Before you give me a pat on the back for now having two completions, two utter failures, and two partials. What is this Japan (tentacles)? Um, keep being a monk, my friend. It’s “easier.” As I said last night, I did no harm, meaning giving more money away for… stuff. Before you start crying again as I did when I realized what bills were missing. Of course, they’ve been missing for again three months. Braxton’s food budget, trips to the groomers, tick removal, his meds alone were $45 – $60. Online streaming and artists $71. Before you give in to the nice girl from Twitter to Onlyfans. Or whatever loneliness-reducing gimmick being hocked today. Please remember what you owe Braxton and yourself, Six Impossible Things:
I AM Finishing Reading, Succubus Lord 14: Swimsuit Edition
I AM Finishing Gathering, My Braxton’s Albums
I AM Sending Gulp Off To Be Published SIGH
I AM Keeping It In My Pants (Day 128 No Fap) Real Girls Are An Exception
I WILL Cut The Backyard Lawn This Week
I WILL Be The Man My Son Thinks I Am
B III can’t help you through this week. As you woke up this morning, you asked for his strength. Hell, it’s the only reason you’re awake now after sleeping late. There’re more reasons to stay asleep than wake up. Living is easy with eyes closed, as the Beatles put it. Misunderstanding all you see, you know from dreams to porn, to the Day Job. However, you see all too clearly. It’s those Republican tendencies. Rejecting the evidence of your eyes and ears like something out of 1984. People show you who they are; believe them. Braxton would see you as The World’s Greatest. R. Kelly… not someone you should be quoting these days. This week will be bad, but SIGH relax, B III, B IV
Please say Hello to me… that’s after having such a nice dream. I’d forget it all if B III woke me up by running over my face, asking me for treats, or better if I had known something was wrong with him and been his Dad. Hello, Hello, Monsieur B.
Hey Lady Sophia, I AM a Billionaire right now, and I would wave goodbye to all of it just to say, Just Me, Baby B.
Sometimes I’ll say Good Morning Braxton when I walk into his room. The two of us weren’t AM people at all, Ha. There was a time when he would run over my head, eager to go out. Back with my Olds, it would be him barking. Then there’s “Medicine Time.” I’ve been thinking a lot about what THEY call The Golden Rule. I treat others how I would like to be treated. All I want in my life nowadays is peace and quiet. One more reason B III was perfect, we didn’t have to talk… we walked, and that’s how we knew we were ok. People think they are entitled to my voice… fuck people, especially the ASM. Braxton deserved the best version of me.
Now I shouldn’t say all people. Indiana Gone is my second best friend. I worry about M Anime. I still think about Cherry, Okay, even MILF Dos from time to time. But at the end of the day with Braxton, no matter what, I was always me. I got to say hello to myself finally. I could repeat the same stories about Braxton arriving in a monster’s hands. The time I caught him eating my breakfast. How about when he chose me as he jumped into the car? If I kept but one promise to my son, it was this. When I would leave, I told him I’ll be back. Do I look like The Terminator? Better you don’t answer that, my future being uncertain.
My favorite part of the day was crawling up the steps and seeing him. I would pet his head, hug him, let him jump all around, and then I’d ask, “you want to go outside?” Give me that moment forever. The Stairway to Heaven or The Rainbow Bridge, Braxton awaits. So here come the waterworks… Braxton’s last day and I dared to say Good Morning. The hello I gave him after the vet gave me the final prognosis on him, and I held him like we hadn’t seen each other in forever. I can even smell him. The brief moment after his death when the storm passed, there was such sunlight, Just Me, Baby B.
I’ve said hello in many ways. Hello, Hello, Monsieur B
I had no idea how bad Wednesday was going to be. The last one that was so… heinous, B III cried, but all I could do was pick him up, wrap him under my arm, and nap. It didn’t end there; the week only got worse but for a moment. “What’s The B Ending?”
Just Me Baby B, Did you have a good day? I don’t really want to talk about my day, and I haven’t even lived it.
I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that Wednesday when I was feeling this way. Time-Travel, Monsieur B. If I had done more of it on January, 27 perhaps I wouldn’t be here April 29 without you. At present, though, it’s April 24, and you know why I’m speaking. As I tell you every AM, I miss you, B III. I still love you like pancakes, but B, I must confess. Shouldn’t I have done that Wednesday? God, I hate Wednesday and Sunday. Not the days’ fault but mine. So my secret… when I say I miss you, I can hear MILF Dos’s voice. If it’s any consolation, you would have liked her yabbos. Now I know you appreciated Indiana Gone’s, without a doubt.
I was thinking about getting her a picture of you or us. Braxton, she misses you, but that would be weird. Always and forever B, so as long as I’m alive, you will be too until we’re together again. I should try cutting off Youtube once in a while, but um, “He Lives In You.” It’s what I tell myself every day, B, and look at me crying again. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop, but I need something to round out the Anger, especially this week. It’s almost like the one I had when you…. Again I’m not even living this week as I write you B Squared. Tell me something, do I deserve to have this pain end? I finished Camp NaNoWriMo…
Hell, if I had published a book already like Cherry? I saw her this morning, do me a favor, B, and see if you can find a cat named Millie. Talk about “stalking,” remembering some English vixen’s cat on the Rainbow Bridge. I’m still a monk and your Daddy. Braxton, was that even funny? So many things ended when you left, and those that began? I want to stay in the same place, you know, but life has its ways. How dare I say that. You wanted to live and now… was I going to say I want to die? I don’t want to move, I know that. The way our story ended like something out of NieR: Automata. Always, Forever, What’s The B Ending?
B III IS always a puppy to me, but he grew up. He can climb the stairs and hop on the bed. B was the angel or devil on my shoulder. Sometimes he would step on my face, and now I see how high he’s gotten. Should I stop crying? B Cause Growing Up.
Dear Future Wife, I AM a Billionaire right now, but why did I want to be? Power, no more, no less. God is Power, right?
Like the song goes, “I put my thing down, flip it and reverse it” thanks a bunch, Missy Elliott. Taking in all the connotations of that song, consider this. I put Braxton down (no, I killed him). As for flip it… if I want to see him, I look to Heaven, or there’s his “coffin.” I should call it an urn. It’s a box that I have to unscrew to see his ashes. Finally, reverse it; what’s God spelled backward… Dog. My Dog, my friend. My son is Power. Braxton is my heart; why not go ahead and say my everything. Um, I didn’t know I could love so much. Then you came along, My Love. That’s not an insult; it’s a fact, my reality.
They say God is love, but again Dog is love. THEY say that most people don’t know what they want. I know long ago when I spelled my first word. As I put pen to paper, I wanted to be a writer. Oh, I wanted to be a sword fighter too, so we both see which one I stuck with, ha. I wanted to be a fighter pilot, a comedian, a wartime journalist. Nowadays, “I’m a motherfuckin’ Starboy” Pardon my French, but my life is pretty hilarious. And how about how I write. I don’t need a war; all I have to do is sit down and bleed. A tad offensive? Such things weren’t when I was growing up. Here I am, crying about Braxton.
I’m just a little boy, a grown-ass man crying about a puppy. I don’t know when I decided I wanted to be a Dad. I’ve had dogs before, at my grandma’s house. B wasn’t even the first Dog I held as he died. I was covered in a puppy’s blood once; my fucking granddad. I’ve told the story enough; the day my Olds moved, and I called to Braxton. He came running without a second thought. I’m sure you’re having second, third, even sixteenth thoughts about the man you married. You, baby girl, have blessed me with children. However, I’m still growing, learning, and I have so much love to give. So I want more, undeservedly after my Braxton, no way. B Cause Growing Up
One can’t only care about the green. I hate someone, not because they’re any color but because they’re a terrible person. I’ve noticed my clothing is more colorful, missing beige and tan dog hair. Just me living my life. Every Drop Of Blood Cost
Madam Justice, I AM a Billionaire right now, but the cost of blood does fluctuate. The fact remains it cost.
Why don’t I go all Bubba with it (ahem) “(blood) is the fruit of the (body).” Yeah, that might not make much sense. Little does going on what, eighty-five days without B III. Something else to be angry about. As always, it’s never at my son but myself and ASM. My how my blood has boiled, frozen, and continues to spill across the pages. Speaking of “Every day, every day, every day I write the book,” should we be chatting today? I continue to time travel as it’s Thursday, April 22, 2021. I’m not a prophet Madam Justice. Now I’m not a historian either, but the thing is, neither future nor past look favorably on me. Tell me which cost more, Madam Justice, looking to my future or the past.
All I know is my hands are stained with blood that I cannot wipe away. Fifteen years and a month shy of sixteen. I wake up seeing red, and while the tears help, where are they now? Yes, I cried for Braxton today but still, when I get out of this bed… fuck such a feeling. As Drake put it, “They tryna take the wave from a nigga. Fuckin’ with the kid and pray for your nigga.” I can only speak for me, Madam Justice but from my tears to Braxton’s water bowl to the sweat and toil of the Day Job. Water… people demand such suffering; it’s human nature. Strange… not really that people want blood, aren’t I a person wishing to be judged for killing my B III.
I went from Paint It Black to Seeing Red. It’s one of the reasons I simply laid in the darkness after the Day Job. In the dark, I can imagine that Braxton is still here. His heart is still beating, the blood we have shed together because “we got enemies.” Braxton’s love. Madam Justice, I must never forget that. If he has gone to the Rainbow Bridge, the first color is red. What’s next, my “Orange Crush,” “Big Yellow Taxi,” “It’s Not Easy Being Green,” “Blue” (Angie Hart), “Mood Indigo,” “Violet” (Seal.) Took time to find those. Can you see why people choose red, blood, and dust? All I want is to find more of B’s hair than hating another black man. In some way, to see the Rainbow Connection.
