Tale 205 ~Don’t Await Crowns, Take Them~

My head is too big for a crown. Hell! The last thing I had on my head, besides a hood, pillow, or blanket, was a Christmas hat. B’s looking down on me from wherever. Or up as I’m going to Hell. For his death or waiting. Don’t Await Crowns, Take Them

Monday, January 22, 2024

Tale 205 ~Don’t Await Crowns, Take Them~

Three-Hundredth And Twenty-Seventh Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Even death? Are we talking about Satan’s Sorority Girls? What about a zombie apocalypse? A halo, horns…

You’ll have to excuse me for bringing up Satan’s Sorority Girls yet again. First of all, I’m time-traveling. Today is Friday, January 19, 2024. So, I was talking to Lady Sophia this morning. And every day, we move closer to the day Braxton got his halo and wings. I hope he went for the horns if he ever intends to see me again. I’m going to Hell, Madam. Gospel 205 ~ Will’s The Breast Starer~. Talk about something in my head or face (Sigh). No. I’m going to Hell because of what I did to my son. Now, where did I put my executioner’s hood? I am a man of many hats and masks. And I wish for some crown. Inevitably, why’d I want it?

I wanted a crown to have a queen or a princess by my side one day. I thought. Madam, I wanted a crown. So I could raise the little prince that was/is my Braxton. I wanted to “Take The World” for him. I saw this video the other day about what a mother would do for her child. A “Dog Mom” said she would watch the world burn for her fur baby. As a Dad… once upon a time. I haven’t been for three years. It’s coming up soon. Anyway, the things I could’ve, would’ve, and should’ve done for my son, but for a crown. My Braxton was/is good, and so he deserved his. Braxton earned his. My little boy. Me, on the other hand…

Hell! I have another rule that addresses this, Madam: Rule#13, Power Is All That Matters.

And me being underneath my hood or hiding under the blankets isn’t wearing a crown. Putting a jimmy hat on the other head… Uh, like, have I needed one of those since 2015? My confession.

My head isn’t getting any bigger with all the “knowledge” I’m gaining with these books.

And while I live in a “castle,” it’s paid for by my Olds. Does it look like I have any crowns to pay for anything? If the world isn’t comprised of empty-headed zombies. It’s people who make themselves kings and queens over me. Or I give them such power. And Braxton’s looking down ashamed. No halo, horns, but hoodies galore. Don’t Await Crowns, Take Them.

1086 Days Without B III, Day 527 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 198 ~May Races, Species Share Thought~

To be an orator, writer, and man like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., He knew what it’s like to be hated. As long as my boys like me. Braxton is love. Virgil? Then, B’s Aunt. And some women, and well, I’m broke. May Races, Species Share Thought

Monday, January 15, 2024

Tale 198 ~May Races, Species Share Thought~

Three-Hundredth And Twenty-Sixth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… At least human ones are. Hell! I learned more from my furry son than any human alive.

Well, that’s a STUPID thing to say. Look at me channeling my Old Man or this gray Friday afternoon. Tim Travel. And I’m sick too. Can’t I die already and join my little boy? Sigh.

Again, that’s something STUPID. Plus, it’s Dr. Martin Luther King Jr’s birthday. And what am I, as a black man, doing with Friday and Monday? Seeing as you’ll see this Monday. Never a good day…

Yep, I’m at the Day Job. Either working under the sexy visual lady. Don’t I wish… Stop It! Madam, I’m trying to be positive. So I might be in the backroom working alone. Hmm? Now, that’s one thing Virgil and I have in common. Sleeping and MJ’s “Leave Me Alone.” I relate to my boys.

But then there’s “my” people. I remember when I was young… Have I mentioned how much I hate thirty-nine? Stay positive! Believe me. I’m trying, Madam. So, as a child, my Ma touted my “Quietest” award. That certainly doesn’t sound that “Black” to me, ha-ha.

And while mentioning a stereotype, what about all the “interesting” people on Twitter? And no, I don’t mean the blog, WOKE, and being a good friend account. Oh no! There’s the account where I listen to what “men” say about women and “freaking” nod. There are accounts where girls… women… models call you all kinds of things. But everyone is thinking the same thing—the best way to get that green. Talk about black men and white men, women all around. Such are some desires.

As the song goes, “You and me baby ain’t nothin’ but mammals.” But is that worse than everything else that separates people? From one of my top five favorite books, I’d like to quote Andrew Davidson. “I am an equal opportunity misanthropist.” I Hate Everyone. If only I could find it in myself to hate the characters I write about and bring them to life.

Then I wouldn’t be working on MLK’s Birthday when I would instead do something else. I can never forget January 2021. It was the Day Job killing Braxton. It was more like my indifference to my son because I hate the Day Job, Madam. Passionately. I’m sure everyone feels that way about me. Be positive. How do I know? People are good. My Braxton was/is. May Races, Species Share Thought

1079 Days Without B III, Day 520 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 191 ~Life Attracts Death, Vice Versa~

Don’t Fear The Reaper, indeed. At this rate, I would use him as a matchmaker. Or as the finder of lost children. Geez! Now that’s dark. But I’ve been looking for my son going on 1072 days now. The box on the nightstand? Meanwhile, what’s on TV? Life Attracts Death, Vice Versa

Monday, January 8, 2024

Tale 191 ~Life Attracts Death, Vice Versa~

Three-Hundredth And Twenty-Fifth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… (Shakes his head and shoulders vigorously and mutters “positivity.” Plays Fifteen Million Merits “I Have A Dream…”

You know me, okay? I have an utter obsession, fascination, and infatuation with the dead. Let’s leave the creepy factors out of this… Positivity. Now, first, I would say zombies. Madam, that was replaced on Sunday, January 31, 2021, with the death of my firstborn. After Braxton died, I thought of finding his reincarnation. Yeah, I’m still not speaking to “God.” But I’m not talking to Braxton through Virgil, either. He’s his own furry, ha-ha.

But after that. I would say, zombies. Being amongst the living helps me in noticing the dead. They’re my kind of people. That doesn’t sound very positive but look at it this way. If I couldn’t find my son in death, I’d like to come back as a virus, Madam.

Solanum, Wildfire, Rage? Some type of zombie virus. Hell! There are all kinds of death cults running around. One big one was on January 6th. But I’m not that desperate.

“People pontificate suicide is a coward’s act. Couldn’t be further from the truth. Suicide takes tremendous courage.” ― Cloud Atlas.

What I mean by this. To put it simply, I lack such courage. Yeah, and water sure is wet, too.

Now being the pop culture whore I am, I want to bring to your attention (sigh) the things I’ve been watching. The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes, The Mill, and Fifteen Million Merits. Or namely, the characters Coriolanus, Joe, and Bingham. Here, you have three living men who do what they must for love and lose the life they believe they want for what? They die, or a part of them does.

“My old self. I killed him so I could come with you.” ― The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes.

I don’t know if I’m trying to live or die. Really. You see, I don’t particularly appreciate saying the word “live” because I only exist. Here’s some more Pop Culture for you: JSS Survive Somehow. Or Endure and Survive. My obsession with death is overwhelming and overflowing. No wonder I seek out life like the Grim Reaper or a zombie seeking out FLESH. That’s, without a doubt, one of my Twitter lives. And the other? Save the country. Then there are all the lives I write about that don’t live. They’re going unpublished. Today, I talked to Braxton’s aunt about my ghost dog and being Virgil’s friend. Father? No, Braxton’s Daddy died along with his little boy. Without a doubt. Life Attracts Death, Vice Versa

1072 Days Without B III, Day 513 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 184 ~Love, Skill, Create A Masterpiece~

Can I not be negative? If just for one day. With that rule, the list would be… a masterpiece. And how was today? Happy New Year. I was at the Day Job, and that took no love or skill. But being a writer or a Dad? Love, Skill, Create A Masterpiece

Monday, January 1, 2024

Tale 184 ~Love, Skill, Create A Masterpiece~

Three-Hundredth And Twenty-Fourth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… But not this one. I don’t think… Anyway, Happy New Year! Though it’s still New Year’s Eve.

Time-Travel? Madam, you know how they ask if you had one superpower, what would you choose? Comedy comes and threes. Necromancy, Time-Travel, X-Ray Vision. Invisibility if I had a fourth. Madam, you know why I would want to become a necromancer. Yes, it is a new year, or it will be in about twelve hours. And yes, I’m trying to… (grumbles), “Put On A Happy Face.” But everything comes back to my son Braxton. Cheers to a chance to tell his story and keeeping Virgil Vivi Bradford breathing. Madam, this brings up the subject of time travel. How could I have done better with Braxton? Or what about V’s future? With writing, I can see it if I keep my eyes in my head. Uhh…

Again, X-Ray Vision and Invisibility. My dear Madam. At times, technology indeed goes too far. Madam, have I committed any crimes in the new year? Let’s say speeding… Day Job. Which means I should focus on a real superpower I have. Writing? So I ask myself the question. Do I have the love and skill for it? It’s one of the few resolutions I’ve kept. Madam, it doesn’t mean I have that love and skill. And a masterpiece? Another resolution. But how do I accomplish this? My second superpower would be this Madam… choice. Yesterday, well, today, I talked about making DOA my first song of the year. Only there’s Weapon Of Choice by Fatboy Slim. Okay, so if writing is “my” choice, Madam. Um…

Masterpiece. I should keep repeating that to myself. So, to create something, if anything, in memory of my son. Now, last year, I would say, um, money, mammaries, and manhood. Even now, I’m having trouble stopping my hands… No! Not because of that, dear Madam. I mean with writing. Yes, tomorrow will be hard… Stop It! And I have to stay up until midnight anyway, as it’s still the 31st. Does that mean I have a love for the craft? Madam, with some love, is there any left for me? I want to do less on Monday, today, or whatever—the Day Job. And I wouldn’t be working it if I followed the rules. Hmm? Happy New Year, Day One. Love, Skill, Create A Masterpiece

1065 Days Without B III, Day 506 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 177 ~Hurts When You Hurt Somebody~

Merry Christmas? And we’re celebrating? Someone born to save us. And as for myself… The gift of noise to the neighbors with the fans running? “Kibble” for Virgil. And turning on a light, ah, my Olds. Pain’s my gift. Hurts When You Hurt Somebody.

Monday, December 25, 2023

Tale 177 ~Hurts When You Hurt Somebody~

Three-Hundredth And Twenty-Third Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Like the one saying Happy Holidays over Merry Christmas. Or whatever, sigh. Oh, and Merry Christmas, Madam.

“It’s how I was raised; the OGs had me.” Or more like my Olds, right? What? Did you think Virgil and I would be listening to Christmas music today? Hell! At this very moment, it’s Saturday, December 23, 2023. Fortunately, I haven’t “hurt” any person… Humanity… But I love my Braxton and, like Virgil, more than most people. And you always hurt the (ones) you love/like. And that’s what I’m pondering on Christmas Day, Madam.

Again, it’s the 23rd, and what have I done for 2V now? Oh yeah, food, water, outside time, and I don’t know how long that’ll last. Look at the floor, dear Madam. There’s no money.

The 25th? There are no presents. No special meal. How about an I love you?

At least I can’t hurt Braxton with that anymore. The last time I’m sure he heard me say that was on Sunday, January 31, 2021. Now, that’s a day worth remembering. No matter how much it hurts, Madam. Again, on the 23rd and 25th of December, what a waste, Madam.

A waste that started all the way back on E-Day. Who knows? By the time you see this, Madam. The Grim Reaper instead of Santa could have visited me. But Santa could always bring Hemlock instead of Mistletoe. Medicated for your protection, indeed, I wish

Because with everyone that I’ve hurt on the daily… Hell! With me sitting here powering God knows what devices. All those fans were blaring downstairs for what? One day’s silence?

I should have been on Saturday, August 13, 2021. That would have given V a chance at a better life. They say that euthanasia is the last gift of love. But I’ve never believed that with B III. So rescue is the first gift of love. I don’t believe that with V. No, that was commendation. A sign should be over the door: “Abandon all hope ye who enter here.”

The entrance to Hell, right? All Halloweeny or close. With Virgil’s birthday being October 20, 2020. One way he’s a better man/male than me. Virgil values his life on Christmas.

And he’s not hurting anyone. The source of my pain, knowing that I do. And, like the fans, how do I stop it? I could celebrate Christmas and Easter… God, how many holidays can pass the buck to someone else? Or kick the can down the road. Madam, there are rules. Example? Rule 15: I Take My Own Lumps. But I can’t, Madam. The floor, fans, and family. What about Braxton’s Aunt and “my” friends? Again, if I just lay here, somebody is left in pain because of me. And that’s every day. “They” talk about being born black is wrong, Madam. Being born ME is wrong. “And it hurts like Hell.” The day I want? The day it doesn’t. But not today. Every Day Hurts When You Hurt Somebody

1058 Days Without B III, Day 499 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 170 ~The Truest Sentence, An Excuse~

Motivational speakers talk about those with excuses. Why aren’t I at the table? They had to pull the floor up. Why aren’t I writing? I have a freaking Day Job. Why am I in bed? I’m tired, and B III’s gone. But Tomorrow… The Truest Sentence, An Excuse

Monday, December 18, 2023

Tale 170 ~The Truest Sentence, An Excuse~

Three-Hundredth And Twenty-Second Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Especially this one. I can sum it up in one word. Tomorrow… Two? No Fear! And Three?

“I love you” was my favorite… as the song goes. All nothing but excuses, falsehoods. Today is Saturday, December 16, 2023. How about why I’m writing to you right now? Hell! I told Braxton all the time that this would lead to a future. So where is it? Why hasn’t it happened? What’s the excuse? I’m no good for Virgil, and I wouldn’t dare use him as a prop, a scapegoat, or an excuse. Indeed, I have another one-word answer for you, dear Madam. Laziness. How about Lazy-Ass? I can keep going. (Opens a dictionary).

  1. Braxton
  2. Disgusted
  3. Masturbation
  4. Sleep
  5. Sick
  6. Money

These are in no particular order. But I’ll say, AHEM, “Sleep is for those people who are broke.”

Do you want evidence that I’m healing over losing my son? Not accepting! Oh no, Madam! Braxton died 1051 days ago, and I’m still counting. But when I wake up every morning and cut off the alarm, do you know what I think? It’s not “Braxton isn’t here anymore.” I say, “I’m tired and should try this ‘Big Sleep’ thing again.” I mean, either way, “Make Me Wanna Die.” Only it’s more I’m sick of existence rather than Braxton’s gone

Don’t get me wrong. The day Braxton died is still worse than the day I was born. B is ahead of E-Day, as it should be. Ohh! “What’s really going to bake your noodle later on is my excuse for waking up.” Do you know?

That makes two of us without a clue. I can tell you why I feel disgusted with myself right now, Madam. Eden McCoy… I am going to Hell. Instagram, GH. I woke up and… TMI! What’s my excuse for it, though? I’m sure I told Lady Lunalesca about stressing out. Madam, every single word has me that way. Hell! Even the meaning of life. Whatever…

“Seek out a kingdom worthy of your soul.” Madam, why aren’t I? Braxton’s still dead. Getting any deader seems unlikely. A zombie apocalypse? The end of the world, uh huh.

“My future is coming on.” But that’s tomorrow’s problem. Let my will be done tomorrow. That is my excuse. Dying? I’ll FAIL Today and Tomorrow. The Truest Sentence, An Excuse

1051 Days Without B III, Day 492 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 163 ~The End Embodies MY WILL~

What does it take to have the will not to sleep? There was Braxton’s sickness. Then I found out he was dying. A bit of bucks from the Day Job. And then bouncing along in bed doing… other, never mind. And in the end, who am I. The End Embodies MY WILL

Monday, December 11, 2023

Tale 163 ~The End Embodies MY WILL~

Three-Hundredth And Twenty-First Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Like the one I made, that said, “My son will never die.” Unwritten, right? Considering Rule 321.

I would make it either Rule 1 or 366. Hell! I fear a whole lot, but for Braxton. His courage. I should pray for that more than the other stuff. But didn’t I say God, and I haven’t been speaking lots? So, um, 1044 days and counting. Because, in the end, it doesn’t even matter. He’s still dead. And what was I willing to do to save him? I’d give anything. Or at least that’s what I want to say. But what do I do in the end? Why am I late talking to you? Madam, I’m time-traveling, but it’s past 3:30 PM this Saturday, December 9, 2023. Madam, I didn’t even nap today, and all for what? What does the end goal look like, Madam? Please don’t say girls.

“You exist to continue your existence. What’s the point?” Equilibrium

As I see the end. It’s me closing my eyes and hoping I’ll never have to open them. Never again. It’s like I’m always ready for a funeral… my own. “Hell is for those who don’t know they’re dead.” So, for all I know, I may have “done it.” Hmm… well, being here now. If the end is life. Which I have been thinking about plenty with that lady in Texas, Kate Cox. The life and death being forced upon her. I keep saying, Madam, I want a family, but I don’t force women into anything. No! All the lives I could have made are in tissues, tears in the bed sheets, and these two hands. I hear you. Gross!

But do you know what’s worse? You guessed it, breaking the rule and knowing that Braxton was going to die before me. And I did think about it long before it happened on that Sunday, January 31, 2021. And it was by my will that brought about my son’s end. So how does this (motions to myself) all end? And why don’t I feel my will has anything to do with it. If you want the short answer, money. People telling you differently are lying. You can’t see the end if you don’t know where to start. That’s why Braxton fought so hard to live. How do you begin saving me? V has no answers. My will be done indeed. The End Embodies MY WILL.

1044 Days Without B III, Day 485 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 156 ~Have Plans After The Win~

For the past few weeks… Hell! Why not just say, 1037 days and counting? I’ve been losing. When it comes to the whole Victory or Death bit. One is definitely closer than the other. But what if… Happily ever after? Ha-Ha! But… Have Plans After The Win

Monday, December 4, 2023

Tale 156 ~Have Plans After The Win~

Three-Hundredth And Twentieth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Especially this one. Does it look like I’m winning to you? Being with my boy, that’s winning.

And dying? As the song goes, “Everybody wants to go to Heaven, but nobody wants to die.” (Raises my hand). Hell! Don’t mind if I do, as it beats this place by a mile, Madam. Today at the Day Job, that’s Sunday, December 3, 2023, to be specific. I was thinking, instead of saying, “I’m Here.” I should start saying, “I’m one step closer to my boy.” I wonder, would Braxton consider seeing his Old Man again a win? I looked in the mirror. And I heard the things that came out of my mouth. And as far as my Old Man… I woke up today and this Monday saying, “Soy un perdedor. I’m a loser, baby, so why don’t you kill me.” But Virgil?

Talk about taking the L. Of all the people that could have adopted him, he got me. Notice I said adopted. Hell! So was/is Braxton. But I call him my firstborn, my pancake. Because he couldn’t have been more mine if I had “poured the Bisquick. My Braxton, the winner. And with everything going on with the house, I can’t imagine giving some girl the D ha-ha. Yeah, even if I paid for it. And what if it were more than that? Eight years, Madam. That’s how long I’ve been here, and I’ve had no idea what to do: Dad, Hubby, a man in general. No matter what I do, I have plans to get effed… Isn’t that what happened? I just did it myself.

But what if, hmm? I’ve been hearing that a lot. What if or Destinies and the like? To win, ok. There’s a reason I’ve been heavy into HaremLit in my reading. Hell! In my writing. Please! Madam, if I did any of that for real, well… I do want to be a writer. That’s winning. Besides that, I want to be like Dennis Hof. Again, um, dead? But while he was alive, I swear. Next to all those Softcore “films” I was watching, Cathouse was everything, I swear, Madam. Can you imagine me in charge of anything? This house, “my” daily humiliations, and some ho, ho, ho’s. And then there’s a studio like PureTaboo. Live forever and conquer all. Winning! Have Plans After The Win

Tale 149 ~Best Seat Is The Throne~

One of the worst things about being lazy. It’s sitting here being lazy, knowing I’m lazy. Yet I work… ha-ha. So I can afford to be lazy. Then I say I want a beautiful wife, a bunch of kids, businesses, Braxton. I’d be a king? Best Seat Is The Throne.

Monday, November 27, 2023

Tale 149 ~Best Seat Is The Throne~

Three-Hundredth And Nineteenth Rule

Madam Justice
Rules Are Made To Be Broken… But I’m here, aren’t I? Sitting in anxiety, anguish, antsy as all Hell. An A for alliteration?

Maybe then I wouldn’t be sitting on my butt in the middle of the bed if I made more A’s. My father would have beat me more if I had flunked out of Summer School. But there’s Times Like These… What? Thanksgiving or Monday? I wish he’d done the “deed.” Inevitably, I want to be with Braxton. It’s funny how my son was always looking for comfy spots. We both agreed on Yabbos. But then again, he ended up in Heaven, The Rainbow Bridge, or wherever. And I would choose his fur over any girl. No melons are that nice. And yet I sit here at the Dining Room table where I told him one day it’d be worth it. His pillow, bed, my lap

Now I sit alone in the car. But no, I don’t feel “safest of all.” Braxton hated car rides. Once again, my Little B was right about something. Have I ever felt comfortable driving? I know the longest drive was to B’s aunt’s wedding. And renewing my driver’s license… With all of that, where else do I go? I can sit for a few minutes at the Day Job. And hate the whole damn world. That’s why we’re talking Thanksgiving Day. Because as I sit in fear there. I’ll have to rise to get the door for a Thanksgiving meal today: the horror, the horror. Madam, I’m sure the food is good, but it’s the fact I rise at all. I’m like The Walking Dead.

And there was a time I thought if “God Gave Me Everything I Want,” I’d be in a beach chair talking to you. I could look out and see my children playing in the sand. My wife would be beside me or with the kids. Braxton would be in his little chair, getting too old. Only right this second, I want to be in bed. Madam, I mean a king-size mattress. And may I have an understanding wife with the businesses I want to run? Back, butt, beneath me.

Wheeler Walker Jr. sang, “I don’t need no air.” Women can lead you to the grave, sigh. I could be The Succubus Lord taking Hell’s throne. But the Sword of Damocles? Best Seat Is The Throne

1030 Days Without B III, Day 471 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

Tale 142 ~Laughter Isn’t The ONLY Medicine~

“If you can make a woman laugh, you can make her do anything,” that’s my only interest in Laughter. B made everyone laugh, including me. And I looked after him for fifteen years. What’s Laughter done for me lately? “Laughter Isn’t The ONLY Medicine.”

Monday, November 20, 2023

Tale 142 ~Laughter Isn’t The ONLY Medicine~

Three-Hundredth And Eighteenth Rule

Madam Justice

Rules Are Made To Be Broken… Hell! Plain ole words, too. The comedian is dead. My son. And FTWD. We are the dead.

I’m not trying to be comedic, clever, or cool. That’s for damn sure. And you know what I’m not cool with? Laughter. “I smile… I laugh… I rejoice this day.” A lot of days, Madam. Back in the day, I wanted to be a comic. I wrote comics for… let’s say a few weeks, Madam. Not the funny kind. But I didn’t start hating Laughter until E-Day number seven. Hmm? I don’t remember, and I don’t want to. Every day we move past E-Day thirty-nine, I come to another truth. I wasted “my” life. Um, existence. And the comedian is still alive and well. Nothing will be bringing Braxton back. And “Fear The Walking Dead” isn’t officially dead and buried, as I missed one episode.

How embarrassing. Braxton would give me one of his patented looks. Every Sunday, I chose my love of the dead over him. And yet I decided to kill him on a Sunday. What! The Walking Dead was on hiatus. Oh! You mean the whole “I killed my best friend” thing. Braxton had a dark sense of humor like his Dad. Again, I remember him giving me those… AHEM “blah, is you crazy?” But he never laughed. He would smile, remain silent, and then sleep. And that was my solace. My cure to every day. Let the people laugh at me. Madam, what else is there for me if it isn’t my son sleeping or guarding me while I sleep? I really want to know. You?

While I’m busy singing one of Jodeci’s hits. “Come And Talk To Me,” for those unaware of the classics. How about “Let’s Talk About Sex?” If you’re wondering why I’m late talking to you, Madam. If it weren’t for the humiliations galore at the Day Job, I would say I hate the implication of “We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off” right now. So, without my Braxton, I’m left with sex and music. And both can be funny in their way, too. As a thirty-nine-year-old man, it’s hilarious that I have to tell succubus stories to sleep. Laughter is one of those medications where the side effects are worse than the disease. Won’t laugh, smile, make a funny face… Laughter Isn’t The ONLY Medicine

1023 Days Without B III, Day 464 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will