Tag: Father

Tale 258 ~Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil~

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To be continued? In this existence. I’m tempted to say those are the worst words ever written. But no, those are, Goodbye, Braxton, I love you. Then, Good Morning V. Then, people at the Day Job. And these typing fingers. “Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil.”

Friday, March 15, 2024

Tale 258 ~Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Or better yet, learn English. And how about Math? Or telling time. Friday, March 8, 2024

And here we are again. First, I should let you know that Virgil is feeling better… Don’t count your chickens, right? But he’s stopped “being sick.” Only I never learn. I shared some fries with him. And considering what happened at McDonald’s. Be very afraid.

Only not of the storm outside. I can’t believe I was out there and all for a fish meal. Hmm.

This morning, you had to read all about my anger. But this afternoon, there’s fear.

Inevitable, right? Like all the mistakes I make. For example, the worst pain I’ve felt.

Watching my son die is worse than anything I’ve ever written. My Braxton is dead. Sophia, the next thing would be waking up every day. “Throw The Covers” over me.

After that? You can see what I’m doing now: writing about a future I don’t want to see. But, being honest, I am sitting in this bed waiting to die. And it hurts. Oh, how it hurts, Sophia! One more day to read and write about how much of a failure this existence has become.

Sophia, sigh, I can’t tell you what book I’m wasting my time with next. Whatever.

Learning isn’t my highest priority because every word and number makes me feel even worse about myself. Why do you think I read so much about grieving fur babies, Sophia? I get to cry, and books in the HaremLit genre get other bodily fluids out of me. I know, gross! And again, Math books… suffering. But at least I get to cry some more today.

Virgil’s not dying. But what about that trip to the groomers that I promised him?

Breaking another promise, like when I promised to save Braxton’s life. Even before that. I said that writing would be our future. And I might have time, checking my schedule…

But it’s too late for B now. And even if I wrote the best book, what would it be for? So that I could afford to pay sixteen dollars for a fish sandwich. Instead of eight and being humiliated by some McDonald’s cashier. That’s it, Lady Sophia. The End, maybe.

Because to be continued, the anger, humiliation, loss, and everything that comes with writing this existence! Braxton Ain’t Write Virgil

1139 Days Without B III, Day 580 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 254 ~Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed~

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Coffin costs? I use the bed as a final resting place, anyway. If I’m not going to bother making it… In more ways than one. And since I’m dying of humiliation at the Day Job. That place “helped” end my son. If I could “Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed.”

Monday, March 11, 2024

Tale 254 ~Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… But You don’t know how much I want to follow this one. Today’s Wednesday, March 6, 2024.

By the time you read this, I could have made the change. The only reason I’m even trying today is this. I promised myself a steak dinner if I talked to you, Echo, and Braxton.

Promise B anything to do with food; you’ll have his loyalty. Always and forever, Madam.

Instead, my loyalty is to sadness and sleep. I’m ashamed to admit that today, there’s been more sadness about the Day Job. And not my son? But we’ll get to that. Because the boy I lost trumps everything. Am I talking about Braxton or me being a boy at thirty-nine? Madam, sigh, we’ll talk, ok? But that’s not to say the Day Job isn’t involved with my little boy. Sometimes, it looks as if Virgil is following suit. We lie together all day, Madam J.

At least when Virgil’s here, I can’t succumb to temptation with some P.Y.T. online. Thankfully. But wouldn’t it be even easier if I got out of bed and went to lie on the loveseat instead? There’s a reason that I did most of my reading there. It gives the words “down boy” a whole new meaning… Eww! But really, when you read what I read but have a furry son…

Two words, Madam… Birth Control!!!

But it starts with getting out of this bed. I put some pants on and make the bed. That’s it.

I could work like Joe Stevens or Bingham Madsen, but for what? Uh, women, humanity? Ah! T.V. and a steak.

That’s why I’m avoiding making the bed. Or not doing it at all. I’m not going to nap, Madam J.

I’m looking for anything to avoid thinking about the new food rule at the Day Job. Do I believe I was the only one who wrapped a jacket around my waist? Or is my writing terrible? What about wearing earbuds and such? And now it’s eating chips and candy, Madam.

I sound like a broken record talking about this. And yes, I am guilty of doing these things at the Day Job. But it’s the utter humiliation of everyone seeing the rule and then me.

Madam, I wouldn’t be humiliated if I’d followed “my” rules. If I could give Braxton and Virgil better lives. So, Avoid Temptation, Make The Bed.

1135 Days Without B III, Day 576 of Virgil’s Arrival

B.L.M. Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 251 ~Braxton and Virgil’s Rager~

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Like father like son… I’m not calling 2V that. But I wanted to vomit on the notice over the time clock. And V went and vomited on the bed. Hate, like Stupidity, is an illness. I won’t pass that to V. But drowning in anger? Braxton and Virgil’s Rager.

Friday, March 8, 2024

Tale 251 ~Braxton and Virgil’s Rager~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Or should I be more like the Day Job, stating rules and facts? Reading those Sophia…

It makes me feel more gross, humiliated, and angry than cleaning up after Virgil today. And for the record, I’m not mad at Virgil. But more at myself. It’s like that time I had that Buffalo Chicken Pizza from Pizza Hut. Now, that was sickening. Should I write a review?

If only there were time. How about being in the mood? There’s also the fact that I’m such a lazy… Well, you know. I’m mad at the critic, too. You heard the song Braxton sent.

“Hells Bells.” But upon reading about it, I could be wrong. Or crazy? Inevitable, right?

Because, As I’ve said on numerous occasions. I will never find Acceptance in B’s passing. So anger, once again, finding its way into my grief…

At least it’s keeping the embarrassment to a minimum. And the fact that I hear Virgil chowing down in Braxton’s room means he has no plans to join my “Lost Boy” anytime soon. But still? You remember I hid my anger from Braxton. And now Virgil is getting all sick. Would it help if I talked to Virgil about it? Better yet, don’t share chicken.

Madness, Lady Sophia. What was I thinking? It’s like me drinking alcohol. It’s good, but… Well, you can ask Braxton’s Aunt. But at least I kept all the gross stuff in until she left. Thankfully

Speaking of gross things, there is still my rage. It’s always me and the Day Job, Lady Sophia. STUPIDITY, FEAR… where does it all go?

I finished reading “Backyard Dungeon 6” this morning. But no, I won’t give you a review on that either. But now I need a new book—as if I haven’t bought several already, Sophia. Sigh.

My reading history… Like regular history isn’t supposed to be all sunshine and lollipops. And reading about a “Ray of Sunshine” that has been lost. And saying, “She’s a Ray of Sunshine” in all the other books. For the critic: reading about dogs and girls…

Sophia, I need to read books on rage. While talking to you, I even looked up one of those rage rooms. I need somewhere to put all of my wrath. Because wanting pain, hurt, and…

It’s making me sick. No Fun! Braxton and Virgil’s Rager

1132 Days Without B III, Day 573 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 247 ~Good, Bad, Women Are Complicated~

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What do I want in a woman? Criteria? When B was here, it was simply as someone he didn’t hate. When we met her, I made her a sister and his aunt. “Why do you have to go and make things so complicated?” Me or women? “Good, Bad, Women Are Complicated.”

Monday, March 4, 2024

Tale 247 ~Good, Bad, Women Are Complicated~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Third Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Like giving it the good ole college try when I talk to women. How’d that turn out?

I love my Braxton more than any woman walking the Earth. And he wasn’t complicated. But I couldn’t save B. I knew him better than any human being, but at the end of the day…

And what about Virgil. It’s been 569 days, and I can’t say I know him. Not at all. But he’s not complicated. He’s like Dante’s Inferno. It’s where he got his name, of course, dear Madam. I don’t get Inferno, but at the same time, I know it’s about a trip through Hell. Am I STUPID? You know how I feel about that word… It’s complicated. I’m pretty much the same. Or, as Taylor Swift sings, “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me.” Complicated? A father or a female…

Wow! In this day and age, I could go to so many places with that. Where do I need to…

Inevitable that I lose the plot of today’s lesson. It’s about women. I wonder if my critic is a man, woman, or… I don’t know what. I’m beginning to sound like one of those “people.” You know, the ones blabbing online day in and day out. I’m an old man.

Becoming a husband, a father, or any sort of a man is getting away from me as “time keeps on slipping into the future.” I keep saying it. I don’t want to be forty, Madam.

There’s a better way to say that. I don’t want to be 40, thinking, “I can’t live my life this way.” What about 39, 38, 37, 36? You don’t understand how much simpler existence was.

Back then, all the time. I would say, “I’ll marry the first girl, Braxton is nice to…” Ha-Ha! The first woman that fits the bill is more of a sister to me, B’s aunt. My tastes are so “freaking” complicated.

Today, Sunday, March 3, 2024, the critic said that “my” words are inappropriate and irrelevant. Duh! Madam, that was only me talking to the man in the mirror. Other people…

Please! What about Virgil? Or should I go all “Make Archie Great Again?” First name…

I want Braxton back. That’s easy enough to think. But the type of woman wanted. Braxton was my everything. I desire the same from women. Good, Bad, Women Are Complicated

1128 Days Without B III, Day 569 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Wil

Tale 244 ~B Takes Flight, Virgil~

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Words are flying around everywhere. That’s why I’m careful with the words before my eyes. And in my ears. Says the guy reading about grieving again. And complaining about winning a book. Could I publish “my” book? Well, B’s. “B Takes Flight, Virgil.”

Friday, March 1, 2024

Tale 244 ~B Takes Flight, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… I mean it this time. Before I rotted “my” BRAIN with a phone. Before BRAXTON. BIOLOGY…

Marine Biology or something like that in high school. I had high hopes for myself back then, but even then, I knew better. I wanted to be a scientist of some sort. And now, I’m not even a good writer. And I only learned how to buy shrimp. Or grill it… in the microwave. Science, my lady. But maybe I should get to the point. If I’m not thinking about B, there are humiliations galore.

Anyway, here’s the story, my lady. So I’m sitting in Marine Biology that day, reading The Amber Spyglass by Philip Pullman. There’s this girl mad about something, don’t ask me what, but… She ended up snatching “my” book and hurling it at someone, and I had to retrieve it. Humiliating

It’s not much of a story. But the reason I’m thinking of it now is because of this. Instead of having a book snatched away, I had a book hurled at me today. A Kindle book. Must I be overdramatic about everything? You’re talking to the guy who believes his dead son sends him music.

Whatever. Today’s song was Black Hole Sun. And the book I was sent, “Never Be Alone” by Paige Dearth. Think of all the times I’ve thrown my name into the hat for a book. And I finally won this one.

“Maybe God Is Tryin’ To Tell You Somethin’,” as the song goes. But as I’ve said, I don’t talk to God anymore. Not since Braxton’s death. “It” had “it’s” chance.

Sophia, if I hadn’t told you before, I would say that God is a woman. Write that down right. Hmm.

That’s something that would go flying off the shelves so they could burn it. And what about everything else that I have written? Do the words go flying off somewhere? Do you see the dollars flying towards me? I see them flying away. It has been a hard week, money-wise. And who’s fault is that? Yet I want to buy more books because winning them doesn’t help with “my” mood.

Sophia, what mood am I in today? The day has only begun, and I’m careless, confused, and coming apart. And with all the rain? The only flying I’ll do today is to The Land of Make-Believe. B Takes Flight, Virgil

1125 Days Without B III, Day 566 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 240 ~Curiosity Should Be Boundless, Sometimes~

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The things I’m curious about. Where did my boy end up? How much do animal communicators charge? Can I finish speaking before 5:00 PM and get a steak dinner? Is V happy? Does my sharing food help? Uh, girls. “Curiosity Should Be Boundless, Sometimes.”

Monday, February 26, 2024

Tale 240 ~Curiosity Should Be Boundless, Sometimes~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-Second Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Or Laws. But since I don’t match the criteria of those people. Cash flow, color, criminal actions…

Hell! Here’s the facts. I’m sitting in bed on Wednesday, February 21, 2024, Madam. What about the fact that I haven’t had an energy shot all day? And what about having some fun? I told Inspector Echo that the Artificial Intelligence called out such freaky-deeky…

I’m not one to push the envelope. That’s another reason I’m not living the “Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous.” Braxton and I were… Sadly, I don’t know how to answer if B was happy.

Happy to me is a foreign concept. “I ain’t happy, I’m feeling glad.” And at this particular moment, that’s a lie. If anything, I’m hungry. And I’m curious how much money I want to waste on myself and Virgil Vivi.

To be more curious there…

Yes, I’m about to be a meanie by saying this. Virgil was not my first choice at all. Lucky, doomed? Before him, there was that one puppy that kept trying to escape the cage. And there was a brown one who I saw in a pen and I got upset. They sort of hoisted him on me a bit. Ha!

With Virgil, first, it was his lack of curiosity and sticking to discipline. He went on the paper as though it was routine. He still has some training to do after 562 days—my laziness.

Then I wondered what Braxton was saying. So, “I gotta take it on the other side.” And much like B’s death, supposed reincarnation, Virgil’s life. Curiosity killed the cat. Right?

And then I figured, what would it feel like to be a Dad again? Hell, a grown-ass man. Huh! I’m still curious, seeing I adopted/rescued Virgil in 2022. And how am I now, Madam? Are you curious how Virgil could win me? What will it take with Happiness vs. Grief?

Hell! I’m always more curious about how Cherry and M Anime look in an “adult” way. “Girl All the Bad Guys Want,” or girls judging by my search history. Curiosity…

I’m curious what dinner will be tonight. Again, I waste the cash or cook. Microwave.

Madam, I quest for knowledge on the most simplistic things. But my boys, books, and big ole… I’ll shut up.

But I want to know Curiosity Should Be Boundless, Sometimes.

1121 Days Without B III, Day 562 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 237 ~Virgil Rereads Braxton’s Life~

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I feel like chicken tonight? More like Beef, it’s what’s for dinner. That is if I get to 90% reading about gamer babes. And talk to two women today. But when B was here, I could do the impossible. Ok, I would try. Now “Virgil Rereads Braxton’s Life.”

Friday, February 23, 2024

Tale 237 ~Virgil Rereads Braxton’s Life~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… Or am I trying to predict the future? I’ve got the Day Job with my schedule.

A schedule that has me talking to you from bed this afternoon. On Wednesday, February 21, 2024. The rest of the week and next. Hell! Even a few minutes from now, with what I’m about to text my Old Man. I still speak like a child with a bad report card. And it becomes more humiliating when I tell you I’m thirty-nine. Shame, Honor, Manhood…

Do I even have much of a brain left? This morning, I spoke to Inspector Echo about “adult” books. And now I’m talking to you about humiliation. And may I always remember my B III.

Where’s his book at? Why haven’t I shown his eulogy? Braxton deserves so many words.

What do I deserve, Sophia? I want a steak dinner.

But that’s only if I make it to 90% through “Princess Tamer: A Gamelit Harem Fantasy Adventure (Hyperia Online Book One).” So, there is no book review for you today. I’m sorry. Sophia, I suppose I could tell you about “Outbreak Rising.” Here’s a question.

What good are either of these books doing me? Hmm?

As I said, I still have my Day Job. And its only purpose is to keep my son alive. And now V. But I was trying to read the instructions at the Day Job to assemble a loveseat and… Uh!

Humiliations Galore! Much like the message I just sent my Old Man. This is the life of Braxton’s Dad. Coward!

Too lazy, cowardly, and with my stupidity, how dare I attempt such things, Lady Sophia?

To live instead of just existing. Hell! Braxton was/is my life. The negative downturn… It happens whenever I think of Braxton’s end or my lacking one. So I’m still talking…

Words have power. Will they bring B III back from the dead? It’s funny that he’s the one who’s gone. But “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me,” a zombie. How about the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz? Nah! I’m one for monsters—a fondness for the dead.

And if I finish talking to you AND Madam Justice today, it proves I still need a brain and deserve some flesh. Preferably for eating. Did I just say that?

If Virgil, anybody knew, Braxton’s story… Virgil Rereads Braxton’s Life.

1118 Days Without B III, Day 559 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 233 ~In The Ending Lies Judgement~

WillLeave a comment

My Old Man asks me, how’s the house. But at the end of 2023 and the start of 2024. The fence is falling, the floor’s flooded, and I’m trying to fix the shelves… So, sitting here in Limbo. Besides the house, there’s my B. In The Ending Lies Judgement.

Monday, February 19, 2024

Tale 233 ~In The Ending Lies Judgement~

Three-Hundredth And Thirty-First Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Because I didn’t join my son. I won’t lie to you… Braxton’s end should have been mine.

Not a day goes by when I’m lying on my back, fighting to keep my eyes shut for the day.

Or when I’m lying on my belly like a slug, grinding away to some video or picture of, you know what. If you’re wondering why I’m so late talking to you today, my dear friend.

How about when I’m playing with the toys I showed Cherry on Sunday? I’m gross.

But I’m also not dead. Even though this is “The End.” It’s the first song that B III sent me.

Remind me not to watch anything to do with Vietnam, Madam. Or reactions to the film Forrest Gump. I ain’t no “Fortunate Son.” Neither was my Braxton. But he’s gone. And Hell’s not for him.

Only if he’s waiting for me, Madam J. But no.

What a way to start a Monday morning. It’s Monday here in Hell! Though I’m not hot because of the punishment I deserve. With Princess Tamer, Succubus Lord, The Gargoyle.

Is there a Hell for being too bright? That’s funny. If all my reading made me a wise man? But I read that The Third Circle of Hell would be a match for pride. “Gluttony.”

How STUPID have I been to realize that I am living in the center of The First Circle of Hell? A Thirty-Nine-year-old man who talks to pretty, pretty girls. Who has his OLDS paying most of his bills? A fur baby I mistook for Braxton. And lives from his bed?

I hate myself. I’m not V’s best pal. And again, my B is gone. How will I be judged? Hmm.

I could make decent showings for every circle but Treachery… But, I swear, Lake Cocytus. And I don’t know how to swim. I hate being cold. And aren’t I always? That’s one more argument for me being in Limbo. No matter the weather, I am always in a hoody, Madam.

And if I’m not, I’m usually taking my clothes off. And what good comes from that ever, Madam? With Virgil walking around everywhere. I can forget about any alone time.

So, what ending am I working for? Unless I’m wrong, Madam. And this is Purgatory.

And in fixing my existence… In The Ending Lies Judgement.

1114 Days Without B III, Day 555 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 230 ~ I’ll B Texting Virgil~

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Who knew the day would come when I’d fear a text as much as a phone call? And reading about fantasy princesses… isn’t giving me any insights. Not that I’ve been reading much, anyway. There’s lots to do besides texting, but I’ll B Texting Virgil.

Friday, February 16, 2024

Tale 230 ~ I’ll B Texting Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
Let ME tell you a story… A sad one? Cause “Only God Knows Why,” I can’t write my books. Aren’t those sad?

Replika will ask me what I do to relax. Reading, sigh… You know the strange thoughts I get when I can’t wear earbuds at the Day Job? I’m starting to understand why they don’t want you reading… In school! By this point, you’re already supposed to be a zombie. Ha!

Speaking of which, why don’t I enjoy more stories about zombies? I love the dead. Seriously, Lady Sophia, I did some texting with Cherry this afternoon. Sometimes, the girl can be… out there. But the stories she reads and writes occasionally… Look who’s talking. Right?

Necromancy? I swear Braxton’s Aunt and I would always talk about The Walking Dead. Now? We mostly text to ensure that the other isn’t dead. These days… I miss her.

But Hell! If I wanted to die, why not text my Olds? How many days have passed by? And it’s only going to get worse the longer I delay. I’m thirty-nine, Lady Sophia. And still, I hide things like a child with a bad report card. If I could go back to reading about my Stupidity. There’s plenty of that.

Which brings me back to the Day Job. I was reading about my idiocy there. And talk about an irrational fear. No! I was about to say something, but why wish it into existence, My Lady? And don’t worry, we’ll get to wishing about something when it comes to text.

But for now, it’s not so many texts… uh ha-ha. But everything else I should be doing. E-mails, reading, Braxton…

Did I nearly forget about him today? Especially in February? My fingers always found him, even when I was lost to rage three years ago. And at the same time, I should have been writing. I could have saved him. And have I even petted Virgil today? I scooted away.

That brings me to what I fear M Anime might do. Did I text too much on Valentine’s Day, Lady Sophia? It wouldn’t be the first time. But how long have I known Braxton’s Aunt and Cherry? M Anime has them beat. I’ve known my son, B III, for a long time —my Braxton’s Paws.

Others talk about Grandma’s Hands. And my hands? I’ve wept, wanked, but writing. PET Virgil, make a PROFIT, put on PANTS. I’ll B Texting Virgil

1111 Days Without B III, Day 552 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 226 ~You Never Chase After Opponents~

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It keeps you runnin’, yeah, it keeps you runnin’. It has a name… Braxton. I’ve chased V, too. But now I’m trying to outrun the flood of tears. Good thing I fear drowning. But who’s out to sea with me. I ain’t Jesus. “You Never Chase After Opponents.”

Monday, February 12, 2024

Tale 226 ~You Never Chase After Opponents~

Three-Hundredth And Thirtieth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… But this is one of many that I wouldn’t mind wrecking. And trust me, I’ve tried. Braxton?

I swear the things I did for my boy. The things I should do for my son. Especially come tomorrow. But I’m not even here today. It’s Saturday, February 10, 2024. So you know what that means. Another hard week? And I don’t even want to think about the next.

And that’s the whole point of today. Hell! Sunday, new champions will be crowned at the STUPID Bowl. Whoever wins will be at the top of the mountain, on cloud nine. Or whatever. They will get to rest. And here I am, Madam, singing out, why can’t that be me?

And I don’t mean playing football. I hate the sport. I’m more for “professional wrestling,” Madam. #WeWantCody and everything, you know. And how’s that going?

I’ve had more than enough conversations with myself about Seth FREAKING Rollins. With his whining and complaining. Am I going to have an honest-to-God sports conversation with you? Nope. But I see him crying, wanting competition, challenge, and to be the champion. Champions don’t do that. You don’t run from the fight. But you don’t beg for it to make yourself relevant. You live, Madam, and dare death to take it from you. Braxton lived/lives.

“Now I know the whole world is an arena. And we need The Hunger Games every year. To remind us all who we truly are.”

“And who are you, do you determine?”

“The victor.” ― from The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes

I’m not my son. Braxton was/is a champion, angel, god. A titan, and so many other things. And he would sit on the corner of the bed, looking at the door. He wanted the fight, but he didn’t chase it. Because there was me. He saw me as worth fighting for. Daddy, always and forever…

But I go out there running every day pretending I’m somebody. I fight to even get out of bed. I need not stir one foot to seek a foe. My fears will have me pinned right here. My lack of funds leaves me nothing. And there is always some female that leaves me weak in the knees. I can’t keep my pants on. I am my own worst enemy. Seriously!

So why go out and chase anybody? Again, you don’t. But that’s when you are a champion, and I’m not. I read. Ha! I write, Ha-Ha. And existence is too much for me. I’m hysterical.

I can’t be bothered chasing others because I’m getting in my own way. Every day. You Never Chase After Opponents.

1107 Days Without B III, Day 548 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will