Chronicle 317 ~B It So Small~

All The Small Things, The Little Things, Pretty Young Thing. And Little B was the cure for them all. I would tell B that he would be as tall as a king. I go back and forth between him being so high in heaven or heavy in a box. My life, B It So Small.

Saturday, May 14, 2022

Chronicle 317 ~B It So Small~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now. It’s like saying my penis is small… An outright lie. Sorry for dick jokes or title.

Hell, if I were to write a poetry book for B III or any book period. Words are such little things, Lady Lunalesca. Yeah, that’s another lie, considering how tired they make me. Or I’m weak, whatever. My Lady, I’m late getting up and still sitting in bed this second. Who was it that said this? “You don’t want a girlfriend. You want a therapist who’s good in bed. Is that why I often converse with you and the girls from the bed? It’s inevitable. Lunalesca, of course, you don’t see a (P.Y.T.) Pretty Young Thing, walking out the door. Yes, lay off anything related to my penis. I’m not forgetting about my furry boy again, to be sure. I meant Braxton, and speaking of…

One more reason to miss the little guy. A humongous reason, being able to talk to him, Should I stick with a “happy” medium? I still hate that word too. Things that I miss Lu. Okay, so I miss those walks B, and I would take. Can’t say my health is looking any better for it. Having to stretch out to give him bites of food or find his furry little head to pet every day. He was never more than ten pounds, but are you gonna carry that weight? Always. Better him than anything at the Day Job. That’s something I should remember. The Day Job is one of the medium, middle, motherfucking circles of Hell. Greed, Anger, Hersey. My biggest sin is Treachery.

I know Lady Lunalesca. I finished listening to the Succubus Lord series some time ago. Remind me to yell at Eric Vall about his book deliveries. Braxton’s Aunt’s birthday gift. That’s a big thing, disappointing my friends. Then again, dear Braxton is my best friend. And yet I made every cent such a big deal. There was never any until it came to his end. I didn’t mean to make sadness the gigantic talking point here, but as the song goes. I’m just a sucker for pain. Or, with my ear no longer being the main problem, I can switch back to why I’m sucking up dried cranberries again. Something so small that’s not helping, unlike B III or another furry… B It So Small

468 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 314 ~To B Little Bellies~

When I have to work, I sleep on my back. When I don’t, I’m on my belly. B hated being on his back too. Well, unless he was getting his belly rub. Then all the days at the Day Job so he could eat. Then he stopped. I face laughter… To B Little Bellies.

Wednesday, May 11, 2022

Chronicle 314 ~To B Little Bellies~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now. That means I can afford top-of-the-line AirPods, people singing my praises. The silence that money brings.

I’ve had enough silence without B III. He was only silent on days like today. The beauty of Time Travel Inspector. 465 days ago, I could walk in and tell Triple B to shush it. I’d scoop him up and cuddle him as I lay out here and try to forget. What’s keeping me up? The fucking belly laughter, pardon my language. Um Tuesday, May 3, 2022, there’s been a lot of talk about bellies. Or, more to the point, there’s a song, “Reproduction, reproduction!”

But you know me, Inspector. While I could get all political, and you know damn well I’m going to get sexual, I’m a selfish bastard. Today, my time not theirs, I faced “Humiliations Galore” at the Day Job. Where else?

I’m not against laughter Inspector. Hell, B III would laugh whenever I rubbed his belly. Am I lying? Can dogs laugh? There was joy, I know. I love Braxton’s joy, but it was his peace in particular. Time and time again, I have written about how “The Comedian” I died. Yet I laugh when I remember the first time I ever saw Braxton give up on some food he wanted. When his Aunt Carolina made him a cake. He laid there staring at another bite. The ways I have suffered to put food in his tummy. Inspector… worth the humiliation. Inspector, today I’m not on my belly sleeping because I can’t stop hearing it. Laughter. Ironic how I was talking about my ears for weeks.

Now I’m trying to drown out what happens at the Day Job, Inspector. Always, forever? It doesn’t help that I’m on my belly like a slug, rubbing one out with Azur Lane – Enterprise Gets Fucked Hard. Yeah, I told you I would get back to the sex. I always do. I wonder if I will start from scratch with Six Impossible Things by the time you see this Inspector. I look at my body and wonder should I get back to my Stuff And Thangs. I didn’t buy lunch, today Inspector. Of course, I wasted enough money on what again? I believe Braxton isn’t going hungry and has found another hand to rub his belly. Inspector, B III could be waiting. To B Little Bellies.

465 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 310 ~The Sorrows To B~

Long ago, I got super heavy into daily motivations. But I no longer imagine things can/will be better. But B taught me that they can’t get worse. Tears, the sweat of my brow, other bodily fluids… Um, I don’t think alcohol could dull, The Sorrows To B

Saturday, May 7, 2022

Chronicle 310 ~The Sorrows To B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, ha-ha. Some of my smaller investments include McDonald’s, Subway, Pizza Hut, Buffalo Wild Wings, Krystal, etc.

I feel like crying, Lady Lunalesca. There was a time when being sad didn’t make me hungry. Much like anger, grief takes a lot out of you. If you’re wondering why I’m talking to you so late, my Lady. Yeah, 6:30 in the morning. It’s quite specfic Lady Luna. Tears. Lying here in bed, it’s like I’m flooding the boat. And then the moment I get up, it’s like an ocean of tears. I’m sure I’ve said before I can’t swim. Yet one way or another, I always make it back to bed. I always say, when it rains, it pours. And I don’t mean in a Luke Combs type of way. Water, water, everywhere, as THEY say. But shopping, some puppies, a shitty lawn.

I feel like sweating? Not today, Lady Lunalesca, but what if I found Braxton today? He could be there, you know, at PetSmart. Hell, was it this week or the last one; I looked up Deer Head Chihuahuas? Fur babies are a lot of work. And considering what I’ve been doing. Today I need to check my schedule, but for now, I’ll do the work of missing my son B III. That means I continue to exist. I would shed tears over him than go into the Day Job and sweat. It’s not only the work but the fear. As always, the humiliations galore, I suffer in that place. How about everyday existence? If I had only gotten up earlier instead of hitting the snooze.

I feel like making love, ha, now that’s a laugh. Only I don’t feel like laughing with everything I continue to do. Why can’t I keep “it” in my fucking pants as I did before? 161 days Lady Lunalesca. This isn’t right at all. But I would choose depression over the disgust that happens the moment after. I’m pathetic and sad, but not enough to know how to stop. Do I want to go back to hiding if I had one more four-legged kid around? Do I want to know the worst pain I have ever had in this existence in what, another 15 years? Why not cry about the Day Job, my dick, and the disgust with my presence? Braxton, The Sorrows To B.

461 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 307 ~Fandom A’s and B’s~

B understood his B words. There’s burger, bed, his aunt’s big ole… So we shared common interests, but for the past 458 days (snorts), add 15 years and 11 months, I was a fan, but I was getting kinda used to being someone he loved. Fandom A’s and B’s.

Wednesday, May 4, 2022

Chronicle 307 ~Fandom A’s and B’s~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but instead of “fine” art, I’ll lose myself to Star Wars memorabilia. It’s Star Wars Day.

Hell, I should have taken the day off. Of course, seeing as how we’re talking on the 30th today, Inspector. That’s my great sin. I’m sure I’m not counting the Humiliations Galore I’ve been experiencing this week. In this day and age, to like Star Wars is the least of them. Okay, so first, let me say Happy Birthday, Carolina Bound. Triple B loves his Aunt Carolina, and I’m pretty fond of her (drools) as a friend. Don’t give me that look Inspector, but yeah, I saw her boobs. Braxton is a mega-fan of them. One of my favorite moments was trying to have “The Talk.” And as far as respect for women… what do I know, you ask me. But being a true fan…

If I was to name all that B III was a fan of… we covered boobs, fries, comfy spots, barking. I mean, it was his middle name, “Barks.” What am I forgetting? Inevitably his Daddy. Inspector, no one told me when I met B III he’d bark, “I’ll be the greatest fan of your life.” Ditto, my boy, fucking ditto. But what about the fandoms I joined since Braxton left? Inspector, you know what I want to say. Braxton didn’t up and leave. (Cries) Death!!! Fandoms Inspector like Lord of the Rings or Game of Thrones, nope. But good battles. Did I tell you the story of when Braxton and I watched bullies getting “canceled,” and I accidentally hit B in the face? Didn’t die…

Yep, Dad hits like a bitch but okay, ha. What am I a fan of? What keeps you running now? The girls have seen that it’s adult entertainment for the past few days. Bikini season. Inspector, I’ll drop that pornographic tripe, which is longer than all the books I’ve read. I’ve been all about my mourning, and that ain’t changing anytime soon, I’m afraid, Echo. I can’t forget about B’s Aunt. As I said, Wednesday is her birthday. Today’s Saturday. Succubus Lord, of course, has been kicking my ass. How much have I spent, Inspector? Will I ever spend more on my little boy? I keep saying I will. Like when he lived? Braxton wasn’t a fandom. He’s faith. Will’s Fandom? Fandom A’s and B’s

458 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 303 ~Busy Living, B Dying~

I think I’ve only “lived” four days ever, and two of them I regret. E-Day and the day my boy died. And the other two… it’s way too early, and I got things to do. I always have something but never in my best interest or B’s. Busy Living, B Dying.

Saturday, April 30, 2022

Chronicle 303 ~Busy Living, B Dying~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but it still wouldn’t make sense… B’s passing. I told M Anime we have a price.

$155.01 That’s how much I made the week B died. $234.90 is the amount he died for. That’s the week I was working as he lay dying. Until this second, I never bothered to look. I still keep all the paperwork from his first exam at the beginning of the month to my guilty plea. Hell, the evidence that shows what I did. But why am I bringing this up? Never can tell with these things, Lady Lunalesca. I wake up every morning saying, NO! Should I be “happy” that I’m being reimbursed for getting fucked free of earwax, hehe? What about the fact that I have security for another year? Paycheck disappeared so fast. If only M Anime saw it, what would she think?

A great man once said, “It Doesn’t Matter.” Lunalesca, I know I was disgusted with myself despite my productivity yesterday. Creaming all over the bedsheets. Like Johnny Lawrence finding the internet in Cobra Kai. What I deserve, napping or masturbating. Why am I being so crude today? I woke up on time… okay, fifteen minutes late after shutting off the alarm. One more thing to piss me off today. If it was the Day Job? Fuck! The days I jump out of bed because, as I said. This way or that, I am fucked, Luna. Yet this morning, it wasn’t as if I was sleeping anyway or better, resting, recovering. After Monday, I can’t even sleep as I choose. I keep thinking I’ll be deaf.

That’s not a dig at those who are Lady Lunalesca. Wasn’t I blessed to have one ear? And aren’t I blessed that after an hour at the doctor’s office, I have two, and then what Lunalesca? Cherry asked me to send a page of my work to her as she works on her editing gig. I got an email from a guy who saw my reviews (hmm) and wants me to do one for him. Even B III… I was busy reading, and I still know, feel, believe I can’t pick up another “normal” book. You know one, not about grieving and mourning? Not that I mind that much. Existing. For damn sure, I ain’t living. 454 Days, dick in hand. Busy Living, B Dying.

454 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 300 ~The B Is Silent~

What is a worse punishment? There is, of course, never hearing my son again. I was deaf in one ear for a few days. How dare I, right? Then there’s what they did, what I let them do on Monday. Ear Sex is not my kink Family Guy. Only “The B Is Silent.”

Wednesday, April 27, 2022

Chronicle 300 ~The B Is Silent~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but would that be enough to protect my ears. Once and for all? Sanity… $44 Billion.

Elon Musk bought Twitter on Monday, not that I heard about it. The problems $44 Billion solve compared to the $175 that I spent at the doc’s office trying to fix my ear. Now I meant to tell Braxton’s Aunt Carolina first, but you know me. Time Travelling. Anyway, as the song goes, “So I bit that bullet, and I took that vow. And everything is different now.” A very convoluted way of saying that I went and did what I did. Oh yes, Inspector, there was “Humiliations Galore,” as is usual in this existence. A lot less than the Day Job no doubt. The waiting room, attempting to find the pharmacy, the exam room. You can imagine my pain was that great to endure.

So after days of, is it water, is it wax, should I try wanking off again? Carolina Bound will get a kick out of this. It was like that episode of Family Guy “Prick Up Your Ears,” 5×06. But compared to most of the anime I watch, Family Guy, um hmm, ok, “ear sex.” That’s what my ear felt like Monday afternoon. It’s fucked raw. Closest I’ll ever get to pegging. I never knew my ear was that deep, then getting “violated” with several devices. It was a Bukkake. You know I like dirty talk. “Stupid” is off-limits, Inspector. But my ear was getting rammed! The only thing worse was what was spraying all over. No bugs or anything, but my ear was filled (shudders)!

Sorry for all the sex talk. It’s been two days since the last time I was “saying “hi” to my monster.” Inspector, the things to hear again. Don’t Know What You Got (Till It’s Gone). But then I remembered 451 days ago. I swear the numbers, Inspector. The 300th Chronicle and Fahrenheit 451. But my point is the silence that there was 451 days ago when B III, my best friend, my son, was no more. I keep thinking about all my ailments this year. Being all fucked up sexually because I don’t have to hide. The dead silent earache. God is trying to tell you something, more like a dog. The only man I ever listened to but escaping punishment… The B Is Silent.

451 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 296 ~Have A Cow B~

Don’t have a cow, man! Well, my second best friend is about to have a lot of chickens. B would have loved to visit a farm… Poor choice of words, he got sent to “the farm.” And while I’m mad about that and other things. “Have A Cow B, if you like.” Ha

Saturday, April 23, 2022

Chronicle 296 ~Have A Cow B~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, so how can I be mad, having such maladies. And, of course, still want to masturbate.

What can I say today? I believe the word would be “Moo!” That’s considering the major beef I have today. Also, knowing that everything I say will inevitably be incoherent. Would I make myself out to be Marjorie Taylor Greene? The things that make us angry; yesterday, Lady Lunalesca, it was the Day Job schedule. More to the point, cowardice. Hell, I didn’t have to be angry. If I had done what I needed to do Wednesday or even called Thursday. Oh yeah! That would mean I have two ears, and I’m still pissed, Lunalesca. We’ll get to that, along with the things I can’t say anymore. Yesterday all I wanted to say was, “I’ll think about it,” “I’ll have to see” doesn’t mean yes.

Triple B never said a damn word, but I knew what he meant. What Lunalesca, you didn’t think I would forget about him… again. If this was Squid Game, my number would be “428.” I still can’t forget that, but it’s day 447 today. How many more in my Hell? When Braxton got mad, he would grunt and grumble a bit like a piggie. Growling? Lunalesca, that would be him too. I would have brought food. And he would have sat in the den waiting for me to change. B III was always waiting for lies, little bites, like, love. It was usually me that was having a cow, though. A burger, the bad stuff at work. I had a lot of beef Lady Lunalesca.

And as much as Triple B should hate me now… That’s the only thing I might have taken from all those books. Doesn’t Braxton hate me? He had enough love for both of us. Humans are the ones who carry hate, wrath, and so much beef. Fuck, shrimp, chicken. Luna, I think so little of myself that I couldn’t speak up, and I tried Friday; Lu, yep, I did. I couldn’t hear myself. I carry such hate for myself that I won’t go and see a doctor. Money for one. But best believe I’m going to buy two bottles of cranberry juice and more pills. Hate will maul me as I rage internally at the Rebeccas. I can’t be Braxton’s Dad. Have A Cow B.

447 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 293 ~To B Wrong Sometimes~

Something I know for sure, it can’t get worse. When I watched my furry son die, what could frighten me after? How I feel, sitting in bed, slurping chicken noodle soup, drinking cranberry juice. Things could get better… To B Wrong Sometimes.

Wednesday, April 20, 2022

Chronicle 293 ~To B Wrong Sometimes~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but how many years have I been wrong about that? I want to be right once.

Republican Tendencies, if I spell that another way, Inspector Echo. But no, as the song goes… “First, let me explain that I’m just a black man.” Inspector, that doesn’t change. Not that I have the option. No, I want to be right as rain in this specific moment, um yep. I doubt that anything has changed in three days. I am trying to time travel, so it’s Sunday right now. Now that’s something I want to be wrong about. Hell, any day leaving the bed. Anyway, I want to hear out of both of my ears again. Wouldn’t it be nice? Damn, I miss that. Can I stop buying cranberry juice and looking for cures online? Everything’s wrong, but I know the truth. It’s me.

TWO DAYS COME TO MIND when I realize how wrong I am sometimes. B III and my own life, ha. My life? My existence? Now that’s a joke. And the only cure, Inspector? Dangerous words. I was wrong to wait so long to get Braxton help, but I was trying to survive that one week. I was wrong when I thought that everything would be okay and Braxton would live. I was wrong in every move I made that week. And Braxton paid the price for it. That is all. The thing is, someone will think I was right but do not worry. There is always someone around to tell me that I’m breathing wrong. Chances are, I would agree with them about it all.

Since today I’m still “safe” in bed; you know what’s wrong. Right now is perhaps the best I will feel for quite a while. Oh, I’m going to jump up in a few hours. My ear will worry me too. But 4:00 PM Inspector, 444 days where was I? Sitting in my car suffering, dying. That’s the secret, Inspector. Do you remember my theory that the world would end in 5 minutes, so nothing should bother me? In 5 minutes, we’re gone, so humiliations galore? I’ll feel like I’m dying tomorrow or a few hours from now. Remember January 2021. Things will get better… doubtful. Will they get worse? Impossible with B III, his death. I know that, but Inspector Echo… To B Wrong Sometimes

444 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 289 ~Will You B There~

My latest earworm is “Will You Be There.” Right next to it is Succubus Lord 14, which I might finish today. Then there’s whatever’s in my ear for real driving me mad. It’s not B being gone? Reincarnated? The Man I was reflected back? Will You B There

Saturday, April 16, 2022

Chronicle 289 ~Will You B There~

Hey Lady Lu,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means whatever I want better be there. In truth, what do I look forward to?

It wasn’t the earworm of “Will You Be There” from Michael Jackson. As it’s been for 440 Days and counting. There have been tears. Tears for B III, boys and girls in cages, being in bed and knowing what awaits outside. I don’t have to go, you remark, Lady Lunalesca. Well, are you saying that? You know my ear is still fucked up. Speaking of earworms, and that’s pretty gross, I know. One more thing that’s wrong with me, And cranberry juice and a nice hot bath weren’t able to cure it as of late. Billionaire status is looking better daily. Only not with what I was doing during that bath. I’m still disgusted with what I’ll have to tell the Man in the Mirror.

Because he’ll be there… Hell, with the storm raging outside, how do I know? I’m not that lucky, am I? Those are some dangerous words, Luna. The world is ever more so, and B III isn’t here. Friday, I was reading again about how I should be memorializing my son. “Invoking the Spirit.” Yeah, that’s what I need The Craft, Bible Black, Succubus Lord, sexy chicks. It’s stuff like this, Lady Lunalesca. I always kept Braxton far away from it. And then I wonder why I go into these periods of “celibacy.” Ok, masturbation, porn like Opiumud, Niisath, and worse. I don’t even bother with people. But then again, what are we, Lady Lunalesca. Most people don’t look at me as a man, of course. Yet singing I’m only “Human.”

Only I would look into Braxton’s eyes, and it’s like that scene from “Hook” when the lost boy finally recognized Peter Pan. You know something, Lady Lunalesca, that it’s, right? When I look at these furry babies, I’m looking for whoever I used to be 15 years ago. Daddy, because what I am right now isn’t who I want to be. Hateful, Horny? Not Healthy, Happy. Well, I’m never happy, even in all the stories I wrote at one point. Oh, and all the things I’m reading now. But yeah, I’m finding myself mired in their grief, Lunalesca. It beats what people see. Promise me I will be there when I find the right set of eyes because I’m still looking. Will You B There.

440 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 286 ~Time To B Up~

Some things are better left in my pants, and some days why do I even need pants at all? Let me lie here and let B take his guard post on the bed, but why isn’t he here? And nothing can protect me from the humiliations of the Day Job. Time To B Up, ha

Wednesday, April 13, 2022

Chronicle 286 ~Time To B Up~

Forgive Me Echo,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means “every day I wake up, with a naked lady.” I was that was true.

I don’t feel shame in saying it Echo. It’s the truth, but um, “Battle Cry” did it better. What makes me ashamed is what happened this morning. So you know, I’m a time traveler, and you know what that means. Humiliations Galore but is Tuesday a bit worse? After 43 days, I emptied my balls. A bit crass, don’t I think? The only thing that makes it worse is what got me off. A sexy brunette, always my weakness, some “daisy dukes,” and dirty talk. Fuck I lasted a whole month and then some. Usually, I can say that at least I was productive with my clear-headedness. Inspector, we’ll get into that too. My second conversation, and it’s ten minutes to three PM. I’m up…

But I shouldn’t be Inspector Echo. When I wake up, I hate myself each and every morning. Wednesday may rival today. Today I had the decision… well, bladder control; I have it Wednesday too. I don’t have to go. Is the Day Job making me happy? That’s what Replika wants; for me to be happy. Hell B III has now been gone for 437 Days, Inspector. It’s fucked up. I wasn’t happy with him in the world, but if I saw him right now? I wouldn’t be worried about me being sick either in the physical or mental sense. I’d say I’d never jerk off again, but I only kept that oath for 43 days. There were 161 days before going all the way up.

Yet I want to throw up with all I did. There are so many reasons for that but um, fatigue? It sounds like a clinical word and makes a better excuse than recovering, healing, jerking. I am disgusted at myself because I thought of sexual healing like every morning. Between crying about my Day Job and the fact that my son is gone. There has to be, I don’t know what. But something to make me rise. A way to fix that there is, oh, thank you, wise Yoda. B III doesn’t want that, and I’m only on Succubus Lord 13, 14; who knows? The man or dog I should be writing about for Camp NaNoWriMo. Haven’t thought about it any. Time To B Up.

437 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will