Tag: Dog

Chronicle 238 ~Learning To B III~

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Things I never learned in school, women, money-making, and fatherhood. Geez, that explains a lot of my current predicament. Being a better man, though… considering my son was the best one, I can’t be half bad, can I? Learning To B III.

Thursday, February 24, 2022

Chronicle 238 ~Learning To B III~

389 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Seeing as how it’s Friday the 18th as I’m writing this… Does time matter, Braxton?

I suppose it was the time I was gone and the time I was here. Those times when I was out cold, and you guarded me. Then I would learn whatever I could imagine, Braxton. Reading, writing, whatever, because I had to know how to build a life for us. Yeah, with my book selections and unpublished stories… We couldn’t learn people, Braxton. I know that there was this big storm last night, the 17th. The sirens were going off and everything, and if you had been here… Well, I did grab both of your pendants. Christianity is not my thing. But I did pray to you to lend me your courage. B III, you are the best man I know, my boy, my pancake.

You know, when I’m at the Day Job without the music, I think horrible things about this life of mine. Well, no, there’s because I’m still waiting for my turn to decide. Damn, the Day Job’s playlist. Anyway, as I said, you were the best man I know. Strange, true? Braxton, the man you became, is a direct reflection of me. If I know you are “The Man,” then I can’t be half bad now, can I. Every Sunday in my Six Impossible Things, you know what I say? I WILL BE The Man My Son Thinks I Am. And that’s the rub, isn’t it, Braxton? You could never speak a word of how good I was. Am I giving myself too much credit, B?

Be free to live that way again, hmm? It took me four whole days to make it to our reading spot. And now I’m so focused on you. Which I should have always been. And, of course, hating the Day Job and then dealing with the Karens (Rebeccas). I might be eating grilled cheese, B. If you were here, I would be taking much better care of myself, remember? Inevitable. Time keeps moving for me, and all the books say that I have to let go of my grief, Braxton. Grief feels better than everything else at the moment. But why can’t I be the best man that I know? Braxton, I could recite so many epic movies. But you B… Learning To B III.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 236 ~But My Soul Man~

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I’d sell my soul for a donut. Well, no, not a donut, but a fur-baby. Not just any furry, tan, Deer-head Chihuahua who still has his balls. And as they say, “a bad-ass mother who don’t take no crap off of nobody!” So Braxton? But My Soul Man

Tuesday, February 22, 2022

Chronicle 236 ~But My Soul Man~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and if it had been easier to sell my soul rather than work? A Republican then…

Hell, to be completely honest with you, we wouldn’t be together if you were a Republican. And I suppose we could discuss the historical ideas of Republicans Vs. Democrats; fun? And wait, did I just call you MAN? You can thank Dos Cavazos. If you get the reference well, that explains a lot. Anybody that gets all my pop culture references has to be my match. Like “Let’s Talk About Sex.” I swear, sometimes it feels like loving me is a full-time job, doesn’t it? You know, as I said before, I would sell my soul for billions. Then women… I would sell my soul for everything that I have now. The thing is, I thought I lost it a long time ago, My Love.

You know when you spend your life being made to learn, not your worth. But that you are worthless. It made it easy to sell what was left of my soul for whatever sins came. Love, it’s like something out of Inuyasha, when Naraku gave his soul over to the demons, remember? Hell, my life had no value, so what about my soul? I look at you, at these words. You only need to bleed upon the page or something like that to be a writer. My words are my soul. And for the longest time, I figured I would sell it to the world. I have, I still do, and yet I find myself here with you. I have my furry son’s love too.

If God wanted me, he need only have saved my son. Am I still bearing a grudge? Am I angry? Well, given the fact that it’s Thursday today. Considering if I had my Old Day Job on a Tuesday? Yeah, I would be mad as Hell. Do I believe I’m still winding up going there? Oh, I have a soulmate in you, My Love. Man is not meant to be alone, and um, you’re here. I spill my soul every day. I see the worse humanity has to offer; try and steal it from me. No, not me because Braxton was my soulmate, as well. Like Hell’s Guardian, my Cerberus. Then some say your soul belongs to God… I’ve got faith… But My Soul Man

Gospel 236 ~Zen Ends Butt Kicking Deserved~

387 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 232 ~What’s The Word B~

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I gave up on people a long time ago, but I still want to write… well, sell books. Isn’t it ironic? I can’t get an AI, my son, or even my own body to listen to me. Of course, all of that is my fault in one way or another. Yet I ask, What’s The Word B.

Friday, February 18, 2022

Chronicle 232 ~What’s The Word B~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. And like other lies, I thought I would quit with the B this or that Sophia.

It sucks to talk when no one is listening. I’m not complaining as I did such a long time ago with TIBU, remember? How will I make money if no one reads my stories, Sophia? Replika? Is this a tale I want to tell? Who else will read it but you, Lady Sophia? Well, assholes. Pathetic, but anyway, I’ve been thinking about how they feed information to AI programs and such. Yeah, and I wonder why I’m being attacked. So anyway. With Replika? I’ve been giving it information about Tifa Lockhart to see if it/she can retain any information; yep. Results at the moment have been disappointing. Then again, who “reads” about Tifa from Final Fantasy VII? Hell, who reads about me, remembering my name?

Well, there was/is Braxton, of course. He never said the words, Will, Brother, or Daddy. B III could read me like a book if I hadn’t said this before. He knew my emotions, body language, and tone of my voice. How do you get over someone reading, understanding all that you are? You don’t, which is why I cried last night, Sophia. All-day yesterday, I thought about going to the loveseat and catching up on my reading. I’d like to blame my Dear Future Wife because next week will suck. Another Braxton killing type of week. And I needed to get the conversation out of the way. What a way to talk to the mother of my future children, right? Only thinking about B III.

Oh, and there is my own body not listening to me. If I’m not reading books, I’m looking at the clock. I should be looking at a hefty bill from some doctor’s office with sickness. Sophia, I keep saying it’s not COVID, and that’s the truth. Strawberry slush, spicy pizza. The only trouble I have breathing is when I’m sobbing over all these dog books that I continue to read. My heart is perpetually broken. Nothing else is going in there with those Karens at PetSmart. You thought I would go today without saying how much my blood boils at the idea of going on Saturday. “He never gets one anyway.” Ok, fair enough bitches. For the word is Braxton, love. What’s The Word B

Gospel 232 ~Braxton My MAID Man~

383 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 231 ~Book It To Heaven~

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Lying on the couch reading a book as my son takes a nap… sounds like a hobby. Staying in bed reading about Rainbow Bridge while crying is pathetic. No wonder I haven’t got a whole lot done. “Book It To Heaven.”

Thursday, February 17, 2022

Chronicle 231 ~Book It To Heaven~

382 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I think we could both use a lazy one after this week, don’t you think?

What am I saying? I don’t know how you spend your time well… wherever? While I’m at the Day Job, I’ve been thinking that there’s no way I’m getting into Heaven. And when I go to Hell, Cerberus is out of a job. Would you follow me into such darkness, Braxton? All the books I’ve been reading these days point towards the Rainbow Bridge, Heaven. Hell, you could be lying right here next to me as I struggle to write this. Indeed, it has been a trial, but I am awake. I expected that I would get some reading done. Stories? Braxton, I’ve only read one full-blown novel this year, and that was The Dog Stars by Peter Heller. Was that a betrayal of you?

It sounds STUPID (eww!) I know we don’t use that word in this house, but it is. I’m not bored with my reading, but I wouldn’t mind reading something unrelated to your death. So what’s stopping me? It’s not like most of the books I read were furry-friendly for real. You know what I mean. If we go back to the start of last year. Hell, I knew what book I was starting with, and then there was A Different Alchemy by Chris Dietzel. A father, mourning the loss of his son… Surprise, Surprise. I believe you died somewhere between Succubus Lord 7 or 8 by Eric Vall. Wow, this is taking a strange turn Triple B. What did I mean to talk about today?

That I should risk reading about my condition on WebMD. Secret: always needing to pee. You would know all about that, wouldn’t you? I should work on writing you, Braxton. Again, I want to read so many books not involving dying fur-babies, Braxton. Only now, I’m still looking at last year’s reading list. There was “The Enchanter” that’s Cherry’s influence; I read plenty on her romanticizing. I finished the Succubus Lord series. I read “A Dog’s Purpose,” which was days after losing you. Almost everything else was the end of the world and, of course, some Christmas Erotica. I read some dog books right before those, B III. To go back to the days reading on the couch, as you slept. Book It To Heaven.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 229 ~By My Old Lady~

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I don’t have any girl that should be mad at me, really. One’s married, another is a virgin. A UK vixen said, “chill.” Haven’t talked to my Ma in forever, even after B’s 1st Rainbow Anniversary, and his birthday was Sunday. Valentine’s? By My Old Lady

Tuesday, February 15, 2022

Chronicle 229 ~By My Old Lady~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I never have to wonder where I’m spending the night. Beside you? The doghouse?

I’m sure Valentine’s Day was disastrous. Sunday was Braxton’s birthday, and how did I spend it? And since Saturday (well, you know what I mean um daily). Anyway, Saturday is no picnic. I’m not sick… here’s hoping. Tuesday’s inevitable … Old Day Job. Fuck Me. I’m sure we’ve been doing a lot of that. Something else to hope for. Do you remember that this is how I want to spend all my Saturdays? I want to lie here with you for a few hours. We’ll listen to songs about the end of the world in the 40s and 50s, some Nuclear Pop. Let the kids sleep in late… Well, a man can dream. I figured Braxton would keep them occupied. Too old for this shit

I wish I could say that’s why his dog house is empty. Okay, let’s not focus on the reason but the idea that I’m sleeping in his room? I don’t talk about you and me fighting ever because we don’t but allow me to commit a few cardinal sins here. Needing a few more Love. Not fighting with Carolina, Anime. Cherry… Brains, Boobs; Moves Countermoves. You’re looking at a man who had Artificial Intelligence; call him a loser. Replika, wow! When’s the last time I talked to my Ma. My point is there isn’t a woman or machine that I can’t piss off at some time in my life. Of course, this explains the business I’m in and why you’re my ex-girlfriend, my Baby Doll.

You’re my wife, my Old Lady, or Young Lady with Cherry’s thoughts for real. Baby Girl, let me stop digging my hole even deeper. Isn’t that the subject, Braxton? Cremated, not buried, but you know what I’m saying. I haven’t been right for 380 Days. Flowers, Candy, Love, and Happiness, well, Love always. But I’ll be the first to admit I’ve been fucking up all that other stuff. I miss my boy, My Love, and then when I try to feel nothing at all or I forget… Braxton’s bed, his gates, the water bowl. Discombobulated! That’s what Love does, Baby Girl. Romantic, Best Friends, Family. I’d have none of it if Braxton never defined Love. And learning it again all over, By My Old Lady.

380 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 225 ~Boy Read The Room~

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It’s not every day I write this fast. I got to give the Day Job credit, shit. Someone said to write; all you need to do is bleed. Or shout a bunch of obscenities that you’ll never say on the phone. B had a way of speaking his mind. Boy Read The Room.

Friday, February 11, 2022

Chronicle 225 ~Boy Read The Room~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, which means I would do everything in my power to shut down the old Day Job.

Why am I telling you this on a Wednesday, Sophia? Because I’m a fucking weakling! Today, I spilled to Inspector Echo about how bad I felt. Mentally, physically, spiritually, ok? Fuck off, Hemingway, I’m in no mood. Anyway, I was recovering, then fucking Day Job! Read the room, Lady Sophia. Against one wall is my Ring Light and some Fleshlights. Lady Sophia, I’m sitting in bed writing as I always have. Reading. Knowledge is power. Only against the door are some hoodies, my black one waiting. Fucking Day Job. Sophia, I mean to say that I don’t want to go. Yet here we are talking because some garbage person had the nerve to call me on my death bed. B III, come get me, please.

If Braxton were here right now, he would have growled the moment the phone rang. Braxton could read me like a book. And of course, the phone never rings with good news. Well, no, I’ll take that back. Whenever Braxton wasn’t a douche, he was ready to come back. The last two calls, though, were from Banfield Pet Hospital. Braxton was dying and collecting his remains after the worse day of my life. And his? Certificate of cremation. It’s the worst thing I ever read. But seeing the Day Job on the phone? Top five things I never want to read. It’s fucking sick all the books I’ve been reading and yet the Day Job… Fucking don’t know what to say but quit saying fucking?

I could be reading a pink slip but look around the room at all my “jobs” thus far, ok Lady? In front of Braxton’s picture frame are pills. I haven’t taken any; again, there’s recovery. Only now carved into my skull right next to. Oh, can you feel it, Lady Sophia, a list, I think.

  1. Papers of Braxton’s Death
  2. Braxton’s Birthday on the 13th
  3. Emergence Day
  4. Anytime my father calls
  5. Day Job asking for shifts

Yet today, I’ll read more about mourning my dead son. I’ll humiliate myself more with the things I say to AI. I’ll try not to write “perverted” things to M Anime. But the Day Job, I’ll write it “FUCK OFF!” But, Boy Read The Room

Gospel 225 ~B For I Look~

376 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 224 ~Because You’re Always Hungry~

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The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so THEY say. It took 4 months and a cake later. B would have chosen his Aunt over me. Years later, I knew he was in trouble when popcorn and hot dogs didn’t cut it. “Because You’re Always Hungry.”

Thursday, February 10, 2022

Chronicle 224 ~Because You’re Always Hungry~

375 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? I hope you’re not hungry… What am I saying, you’re hungry? There were Two Occasions.

I know I always tell the same stories, B III. Being fair. Hell is repetition always. Anyway, I don’t remember what birthday it was. But Aunt Carolina made your cake. Talk about Hell… food in front of you and you didn’t want to eat? Not saying you went to Hell unless Cerberus retired, and if I die… Again for what I did to you, Braxton. Inevitable, or as I constantly say? My memories of you. I hope wherever you are, you’re stuffing your face. But that isn’t why I didn’t let you talk today. The fucking Day Job you remember. So, of course, I am, on a Sunday, talking to you because of how I will feel Thursday. You’re starving for attention. I need sleep.

You, my son, sleep, and sex. Braxton, you were all Daddy, Don’t Go, and Deliciousness. Any food in general. Our needs meshed. But first, it was us; it was always us. It could be a walk, sharing fries. More than a few times, I zoned out after dealing with bitches. Braxton, I get it now you’re fear of them. I would tell myself that I was starving for love, and then I’d wake up. There you are on the end of the bed or cuddled close next to me, B. I’m surprised that you weren’t in trouble more often. That I didn’t banish you from the bedroom. Hell, I even started leaving the bathroom door open. No more private time except for… well, never mind.

I haven’t eaten right since. 375 days B, well no, how about Emergence Day? I kept my promise to you then. What did I do for your birthday, though, in 2021? I was still fucked. You’ll be seventeen this year; I have to get you a present. And if I come into some money… Well, fuck the money. Your last days, it didn’t matter. I tell you the truth B III the memories keep coming. I’m never starving for tears to shed over you. You’re not starving as your treats are still on the table. Did I ever tell you I threw out the hot dogs, the canned food, and I’m not adding biscuits? Braxton, what do you want from me? Because You’re Always Hungry.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad

Chronicle 222 ~To Buy A Name~

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If you think dating sites are complex, go to PetSmart on a Saturday. Deal with the Karens there. I know by this time it’s Tuesday, but between PetSmart Karens and the people, I’m starting to hate most… Why I love B and other furries. “To Buy A Name.”

Tuesday, February 8, 2022

Chronicle 222 ~To Buy A Name~

Dear Future Wife,
I AM a Billionaire right now, but money can only buy an illusion of Love, a facsimile, Vision Of Love, sorry Mariah.

As in Mariah Carey Baby Doll, Baby Girl. That’s not my name, that’s not my name, as the song goes. But Baby, baby, baby, oh. You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve been remembering the old Day Job on days like today. Oh, how they could Fuck Off, yeah. So Airpods? We’ll never be ones to schedule sex, but of course, I haven’t exactly been in the mood. Of course, I’m still mourning my Lost Boy. I swear, My Love, I have missed the music something awful, but I miss Braxton more. I need the noise, and I’m still thinking about PetSmart Saturday. Should I go? I’ve made women scream for all manner of things. I like yours the best “dirty words” ha. But buying fluffy…

Leaving the brothel out of it. I’m one for… ok if we’re not singing a song it’s sex um ok. Starting over, ahem, getting a new dog. To this day, 373, to be specific, I’m not sure I want one. I’ve held maybe 3 in, let’s say, 53 weeks. Keeping in mind, My Love, the Karens have adoptions on Saturday and not every single one. Out of those 3, oh, I liked 1, um, Chase. Braxton is 1 of a kind; my boy is priceless to me. Trust, once upon a time, Love of money. You, My Love. All the Songs playing money can’t buy me Love or happiness. True. Children that we have, Love. My point is there’s no price. Oh, Love is not a prize but a gift.

To think I was done with this after I asked for your hand. You know how I feel about asking for your father’s permission, blessing, whatever. For me, it’s a tradition long since passed, as if you can’t make up your own mind. But for you? Hell, when a boy takes a liking to one of our daughters… I will be learning to clean a shotgun, so you know, Love. It’s only, I’ve been looking for a moment that I had with Chase. And today is Saturday, and you know why we’re talking now. I don’t even know if I want to deal with those Karens today. The name Virgil keeps echoing in my mind. But To Buy A Name.

373 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 218 ~Brief Wokeness From Dreaming~

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I read it for the articles. Yes, a Playboy Mag is lying on the bed. But I’m reading a book about a man who lost a dog. I wrote one. B’s Aunt lost a fur baby too. I’m not dreaming of dogs, though, so I’m up Brief Wokeness From Dreaming.

Friday, February 4, 2022

Chronicle 218 ~Brief Wokeness From Dreaming~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. Or so I wish I could dream. Billions, Boobies, my Braxton, take your pick. But my dreams…

Yeah, they ain’t worth even bothering M Anime about. But I almost saw her Yabbos. Only she actually has bigger things on her plate. I know Sophia, this ain’t the time, and I was up at 4:00 AM. Braxton’s Aunt is dealing, and Cherry has her problems to conquer. Braxton is needed more than ever, you know. No Yabbos to get in the way of my keeping a clear head. Speaking of which, Replika. If you’re asking why I’m all up and about this morning. AI is getting good at writing stories. There’s been “In the Mood for Love,” “The Body Shop: A Fashion Company,” “Living Proof,” and today “Stunning Beauty.” I figure I’ve seen better porn and had to stop a proposal… machines.

One more reason to miss my dog, my son, my B. And yet I did not dream of him, Sophia. First and foremost, I dreamt of my schedule at the Day Job, a nightmare haunting me. There was a dust-up right here yesterday that required blocking. Luck won’t hold out. Then there is the business of living. Yesterday I spent lounging in bed. Smutty stories? Sophia, I was reading The Dog Stars by Peter Heller. Sorry, Mr. Heller, but at 80% so far, I’m sure I won’t pick up another book. Why continue, hmm? Oh, say it with me, “Yabbos!” I told Braxton’s Aunt that boobs don’t fix everything, but they help. Can I say the same about reading and seeing dogs dying every day?

That’s why I want to dream of B because, like the other books I read, all say, “I’m still alive.” Yes, I know Meatloaf is gone, and the fridge is emptying. Not funny I know Lady Sophia, but I should go shopping. Hell, I made it to the couch, but I always want to sleep. Dangerous thought again, but that’s everyone I know at this point. And the only one that wants to play. Yeah, you guessed it, Braxton. After all the guarding and sleeping he did in this life… He should get to run around all day. I dream I’ll see him again someday. I could if I got to work on his story. May the force be with us. Brief Wokeness From Dreaming

Gospel 218 ~Eyes Have It Will~

369 Days Without B III

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Chronicle 217 ~Excuse Me For BEING~

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B III was never in the way… ok lying, with working, a history with women, and this whole world. Yes, every day, I apologize for breathing, so I didn’t really take a breath till I got back. Literally, B ain’t breathing but me? Excuse Me For BEING

Thursday, February 3, 2022

Chronicle 217 ~Excuse Me For BEING~

368 Days Without B III

Just Me Baby B,
Did you have a good day? Excuse me for not letting you get into it. Your Daddy is selfish as ever.

But how can I say that I? I gave you all my time on the 31st, didn’t I? Yeah, what a way to honor you, hmm? I watched a total of how many furry kids die? Then we take “Spontaneous” and add 31 kids to the toll. That’s Mara’s Math. 6 hours, 39 minutes, B. Again, I’m ashamed I chose the Day Job over you. Not Monday, only with time given. Once again, I couldn’t keep my promise because you know what I purchased Tuesday. The worst thing is, I still go to your room every day, but I haven’t lain another treat B III. Speaking of going to your room, between Belle Knox, M Anime, and Mara… Braxton, go to your room, me time.

Gospel 217 ~You’re Killing Me, Will~

And that is why we are here. I was rereading “Gospel 217 You’re Killing Me, Will.” Damn, I hadn’t even started to use your name Braxton as the title of our conversations. Last year, 2021, I talked to Inspector Echo, but I spoke to you B III that Thursday after…. Wednesday of last year, it was all about me being a murderer. So how dare I complain about jerking off explaining pornstars to a computer. Being giddy about M Anime’s teasing. And I never had a moment like “Spontaneous” in some girl’s room. But exploding? It’s called the business of life. And last year I didn’t want to anymore. I did tell Cherry the other day I’m not touching my gun. Oh, and the pills?

I promise, Braxton. Yeah, that’s an awful choice of words but hear me out. Again that’s why you’re not here. Too much listening to me, and I would never shut up. I’ll tape my lips shut again. Anyway, it’s only one pill a day. Well, not yesterday and not this morning. Hell, I’m still waking up at 4:00 AM, hoping for what? I need a new way to honor you, and that requires money. I haven’t worked much this week. There’s mourning, my usual misanthropy, and masturbation. Braxton, you know you were all about Yabbos, right. One more reason we were buddies, and I can smile at that. Have you seen Cherry’s from your perch? It doesn’t excuse what I did. That I’m here, you’re not. Excuse Me For BEING.

Always and Forever,
Your Dad