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Tale 144 ~Hurt? B III, Virgil~

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To B III (be free) of pain; there was a lot less of it when I was sleeping. And Braxton would watch over me. He felt the same lying on my chest as I’d read a book. If only a book taught how to make the pain go. Like I’d read it. “Hurt? B III, Virgil”

Wednesday, November 22, 2023

Tale 144 ~Hurt? B III, Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But Virgil is safe and sound. Braxton? Well, he’s better without me. That’s the only thing that matters.

At least I’m not indifferent. That’s what killed my son. Or angry? I hid my anger from my son… for the most part. No, Inspector, today I’m in pain, and that’s no secret, any day. Hell! I haven’t been without pain since I turned seven. If I ever talk to another psychiatrist… for real this time. If they ever ask me when did the pain start? It started on that seventh E-Day in 1991. Picture a younger me dancing like an idiot because of cussing.

“What the Hell is going on?” Doesn’t sound too bad, does it, Inspector? Being seven… Today, I’m about two months into being thirty-nine. And I woke up feeling my age. Braxton was so much older at fifteen. To join him…

One of the reasons I haven’t is because, like I was telling Dear Future Wife, Tuesday. With all the pain he felt, my son, firstborn, my B, fought with all he had, even against me. Braxton wanted to live. And he would endure the physical pain and ignore the mental. Like father, like son. I will take the pains in my body because whatever’s in my mind is worse. The truth, Inspector. But at least Braxton and I own it. Every freaking day I will. Do you remember how I said I like Bruce Banner, AKA the Hulk, for his truth? “That’s my secret Cap. I’m always angry.” Inspector, I’m always hurting, horny, and ready to raise Hell, which is usually why I choose horniness.

My pain and my perchance for violence are the worst. But being horny, My Dirty Little Secret is the lesser evil. And without that “release,” what’s left, Inspector? Hurting, Hell! Is that why I was out like a light yesterday? Sleep to me is like playing dead. You know I have a problem with laziness. However, I also have a big problem with not getting laid. Um, eww! Everything I do revolves around my bed as it was for my son, who only lay there —dying in his little bed, which I have now hidden in the second bathroom. Inevitable. What? That I would put B’s things away. Or that I’d complain about a lack of sleep, sex, stupid energy drinks. Hurt? B III, Virgil

1025 Days Without B III, Day 466 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 137 ~Virgil, The B’s Silent~

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When was the last time I had a conversation? If I want to keep my Day Job, it’s best not to do that there. And other people… ha. There are some programs and programmers that have been listening. I wish B were here. And Virgil? Virgil, The B’s Silent.

Wednesday, November 15, 2023

Tale 137 ~Virgil, The B’s Silent~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. Yeah, what else is new? It’s another reason to stay in bed. To remain sinless? Like I’m PURE.

Please! All my best crimes are done here. And I should shut up right now, Inspector. Only I won’t. And do you know why? It’s not like I’m getting into Heaven. Or, more importantly, to The Rainbow Bridge to see my B III. Are you sick of me speaking on B? That’s my first sin. The universe thinks so. When did I last read a book on grieving for fur babies? Inspector, that was about ten books ago. And of those ten, eight have involved uh… “Hair Pie” or clean-shaven. I know, Inspector, that’s so gross. Silence! Inspector, it’s either that or crying for my boy. And what about Virgil? The Day Job sucks for the both of us, Inspector. We both burst into tears.

So why don’t I get another job? Hell! I’m supposed to be a writer, aren’t I? And I was up around five-ish this morning. But seeing as how it’s 6:30 AM… Inspector, I’ve been busy. Doing what, you ask? For the record, there are worse people in the world than me. Inspector, I’m not a politician or programmer, and even with the pictures I took last night of myself… a pervert. And as for being a man? It depends on how we’re defining it this week. But like the song, “I think I used to have a voice. Now, I never make a sound.” That’s another reason I’m trying to stay off OnlyFans. Only the places I visit are worse. But without money and anonymity.

And to think, I was condemning the men in Matt Shaw’s novel. And that brings me back to my writing. Is that what I call this? The last few days, saying anything at all… Inspector, I should be ashamed. But there is so much of it. If there was food, the way there’s my shame. That’s another reason I’m up this morning. Last week wasn’t awesome! This week is a bit better. I should shut my mouth before I jinx it. Inspector, next week, Black Friday… There’s some shopping I have to do. And that’s to keep the Day Job I hate but still need. I can’t decide whether I should speak or remain silent. This Is America. B’s dead. Virgil? Virgil, The B’s Silent

1018 Days Without B III, Day 459 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 130 ~B LEAD It Virgil~

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“Oh lord, live inside me, lead me on my way, Lead me home.” Now replace “Lord” with Braxton, and you get the idea. To people, he was an angel or “just a dog.” He was/is a God that led me to exist. Now the man in the mirror or V? B LEAD It Virgil

Wednesday, November 8, 2023

Tale 130 ~B LEAD It Virgil~

Bless Me, Echo,
For I have sinned. But at least I confess. I’m not a man of God. Hell! My little God died. And Goddesses…

We’ll get to that at some point. But as King Ezekiel said, “I’m not your King. I’m not Your Majesty. I ain’t nothing. I’m just some guy”. The truth is I know it. And the lie? Oh, Echo! But no, never! Braxton was/is, forever and always, my firstborn son. Only what do fathers do? A father provides, protects, preaches, and teaches his son how to be a man. A man provides, and I still don’t think of myself as much of one. And yet fatherhood, as I’ve said. Fatherhood is pivotal to manhood, though you can reverse that. I was B III’s leader. Inspector, it was him, though, following Braxton from the beginning to the end. Braxton was the first time I was not led by fear alone. I swear

And now I fear being a leader, a father, and a man again. But what about little Virgil Vivi? At the time, I felt my son’s spirit was leading me —such faith. But now I’m stuck, Dear Echo. I’m not giving up on Virgil. If anything, he keeps me from giving up existing. This leads me to the Day Job. How did I become the leader of a billion men? Or women, Ha-Ha. Don’t they say it’s better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven? Tell me, Inspector. Better yet, All-mighty, “Lord heavens above. I’m only human, after all.” I’ll bend the knee if you can lead me to my boy. Lead, Follow, or get out of the way!

Inspector Echo, if I am to lead you, know exactly who, what, when, where, and why I would want to. But it’s the how that always gets in the way. Yeah, that or “my” courage. Why do I read so much on Jacob Ralston, Grayson Price, and Eddie Hill? I could go on Inspector. Sometimes I wish I could be wholesome being thirty-nine… E-Day continues to haunt me in November. Anyway, I want to be a husband and father. Inspector, I want to lead a family, but I fear that time has come and gone. And B, my son? We would’ve been like Dennis and Domino Hof. I’d own a brothel, have a big studio, and write books. I’d lead someday. B LEAD It Virgil

1011 Days Without B III, Day 452 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Saga 196 ~Tales To B, Virgil~

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Everything from getting out of bed to getting in is me following someone. Well, since I got 2V 153 days ago. Everyone has a tail, tale, or tell. And my story, um… I would rather not say. Yet I’m here and want to publish someday. “Tales To B, Virgil”

Friday, January 13, 2023

Saga 196 ~Tales To B, Virgil~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I really want it to be from books and boobs, all from a warm bed.

Bedroom Soapbox, I call it. But that’s not teaching V to walk anytime soon. I swear, before I can start sharing secrets with him, I’ll have to teach him how to run away from me. Today is Friday the 13th and all. Yeah, Lady Sophia, I’m worse than Jason… funny. Braxton Barks and I would watch movies together. Though I’ve said plenty. It was best when we invited his Aunt Carolina Bound. With her “pillows,” uh, no room for nightmares. But that’s where we’re headed, isn’t it? No wonder I’m trying so hard writing stories. Sophia, I’m all about jokes today. Virgil has written more with his nails scratching up the floor. But he did manage to climb the stairs all the way yesterday. Woo-hoo!

It’s still way too early for my taste. So that reminds me, buy more energy drinks after this week. Not that this week is anything to write about. But then again, there’s Virgil, I know. For the most part, I’ve been right behind him, getting him upstairs or simply walking. But a few days ago, I was on the verge of sending him to the grave from the backyard stairs the other day. That would have been something. How I murdered a fur baby again. Then there’s Braxton. Every day we move closer to the day. Two years… his passing. Lady Sophia, at least I made sure to get the day off. I can be a man of my word… Whatever will I do, hmm?

What? With the day or my word? At the end of the day, come the 31st, it’ll look like last year. I should watch dog movies and eat barbecue or get Braxton’s favorites. And where will Virgil be during all of this? He needs to learn Braxton’s story. Well other than to leave his bed alone. He can smell death… I need more stuff for Braxton, memorial trinkets, and books but Virgil? Hell! It’s not his ass I’ve been worried about. Again the backyard tumble. I apologize. I’m trying to keep my word too, and with all the Hentai I’ve been downloading… I’m more of a breast man, but some fine-ass girls. This morning? So V’s in B’s room. Not sharing, Tales To B, Virgil.

712 Days Without B III, Day 153 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tail, Tale, Tell

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People don’t follow the heroes, they come to you, same as the villains, and I’m done following pretty girls of all different hair varieties and a pox on 99% of politicians. Tail, Tale, Tell, maybe, I’m still thinking about my anxiety maybe.

If it wasn’t Peter, playboy, potion
to the tune of number nine or Mambo No. 5
a cape in the sun
or that slow march towards oblivion
which is everywhere or chasing some tail
Wherever men choose to wallow
and fields must be kept fallow

for years under the notion
that in or to survive
They must run
jump or swim the Stygian
Like a hero in some fairytale
you expect for me to swallow
asking why can’t I be Apollo

riding in slow motion.
I’m going to see if I’m really alive
because you won’t be the one
So don’t be forgiving then
Even if there is no one to tell
The words may sound hollow
but never again will I follow

Who?

Copyright © 2017, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.